Chapter 13 - Dawn at the Courthouse
The first pale streaks of gray dawn were just beginning to cut through the heavy canopy of oaks as we crested the rise overlooking the disused county courthouse. The grand stone pillars of the municipal building looked skeletal in the early morning fog, their classical facades stained by years of neglect and municipal budget cuts. Yet, parked directly in front of the sweeping marble stairs sat two unmarked federal sedans, their metallic grey finishes gleaming with morning dew, red and blue indicator lights dark but operational.
My legs felt like lead, every step through the damp gravel sending shooting pains up my shins. Sophia had gone quiet hours ago, riding the final mile perched high on Brutus's broad back, her small arms wrapped tightly around the dog's thick neck while the massive animal paced with deliberate, steady rhythm.
As we stepped out from the treeline onto the cracked asphalt of the courthouse parking lot, a pair of sharp, professional voices rang out.
"Hold right there! Keep your hands where I can see them!"
Two figures in dark windbreakers and tactical vests detached themselves from the shadows of the portico, their hands hovering near their belts. Then, as the gray morning light hit my face and caught the tear-stained uniform I had worn since the previous morning's nightmare, their posture shifted instantly from aggressive caution to professional shock.
"Federal Marshal Vance," the taller of the two agents said, flashing a badge as he jogged down the marble steps. His eyes swept over Sophia, the enormous Rottweiler standing sentinel at our flank, and finally rested on my trembling hands. "Are you the ones who placed the secure dispatch call from the Ridge Road sector?"
"I am," I managed to say, my voice raspy and cracked from hours of cold air and swallowed panic. I reached deep into my coat pocket and pulled out the heavy brass ID tag, extending it toward him on an open, shaking palm. "And I have the property they've been killing to keep buried."
May you like
The marshal stepped closer, his gloved fingers carefully taking the metal plate. He turned it over in the pale morning light, reading the deep serial stamp and the municipal registry code engraved along its back edge. A slow, grim smile touched the corners of his mouth.
"Well," Marshal Vance murmured, looking up toward the towering mahogany doors of the courthouse. "That's the missing puzzle piece for the grand jury indictments. Let's go home."
