Chapter 6 - The Trap at the Quarry

The quarry trail was narrower than Eleanor remembered.

Pines crowded the path.

Loose stone shifted under her shoes.

Behind her, Clara kept muttering.

"This is a terrible idea."

Eleanor did not look back.

"You were supposed to stay with Ben."

"You raised my mother. I inherited bad judgment honestly."

"You did not inherit it from me."

Clara laughed once.

"Sure."

They followed a fresh set of footprints.

One belonged to Thomas's boots.

Another set was deeper.

Likely Marcus.

At the ridge, the old quarry opened below them like a wound.

Rusting equipment.

Gray water.

A small cabin near the far slope.

Eleanor whispered, "There."

Thomas stood outside.

One arm in a sling.

Marcus faced him with a gun.

Rebecca was tied to a chair on the cabin porch.

Eleanor's heart tightened at the sight of Thomas's daughter.

Rebecca looked almost fifty.

Dark hair streaked with gray.

Strong face.

Margaret's face, Thomas had said.

Marcus shouted.

"The will!"

Thomas held up the envelope.

"Release her."

"Put it down."

"Release Rebecca."

Marcus laughed.

"You don't negotiate well."

"I've had a difficult day."

Rebecca shouted, "Dad, don't give him anything!"

Marcus struck the chair with the gun.

Thomas stepped forward.

"Touch her again and—"

"And what? Bleed on me?"

Eleanor whispered, "We need Ben."

Clara held up her phone.

"No signal."

"Of course."

"We can go back."

"No time."

Eleanor scanned the quarry.

A bell rope hung from the old blasting shed.

She remembered workers used it before detonations.

"Can you reach that shed without being seen?"

Clara followed her gaze.

"Probably."

"Ring the bell."

"What will that do?"

"Ben knows the old quarry. He'll hear it."

"And you?"

Eleanor looked at the cabin.

"I'll distract Marcus."

Clara grabbed her.

"No."

"Someone has to."

"You are seventy-two."

"And?"

"And I would like you to become seventy-three."

Eleanor smiled.

"So would I."

Before Clara could stop her, Eleanor stepped onto the gravel slope.

"Marcus!"

Everyone turned.

Thomas went white.

"Eleanor?"

Marcus raised the gun.

"What are you doing here?"

Eleanor continued walking.

"Apparently saving men from bad decisions has become my retirement."

Thomas whispered, "Go back."

"No."

Marcus laughed.

"This is touching."

Rebecca stared.

"Who is she?"

Thomas did not answer.

Eleanor did.

"Eleanor Hayes."

Rebecca's eyes widened.

She knew the name.

Of course she did.

Marcus pointed the gun at Eleanor.

"Stop there."

She stopped.

"You wanted the will."

"Thomas has it."

"No. He has a copy."

Thomas looked at her.

Eleanor continued.

"The original is in my car."

Marcus frowned.

Thomas whispered, "That's a lie."

"Yes."

Marcus looked between them.

Eleanor smiled.

"I've had fifty years to learn."

"You think this is funny?"

"No."

"Where is the original?"

"Safe."

"What safe?"

"My bank."

Marcus cursed.

Thomas said, "She wasn't supposed to know where I kept it."

Eleanor looked at him.

"You left it on my kitchen table."

He blinked.

Then understood.

Play along.

Marcus asked, "Why would Thomas give you the original?"

"Because the will names me."

"You have no claim."

"Then why are you holding a woman at gunpoint?"

Marcus's face tightened.

Rebecca said, "He needs signatures."

Eleanor looked at her.

"What?"

Rebecca continued.

"The mineral company won't close while title is disputed."

Marcus shouted, "Quiet."

Rebecca ignored him.

"They need Daniel and Dad to sign affidavits saying the will is fraudulent."

Thomas said, "I won't."

"Then Marcus planned to use me."

Marcus grabbed Rebecca's hair.

Thomas moved.

Eleanor shouted, "Stop!"

Everyone froze.

Then the quarry bell rang.

One loud metallic strike.

Marcus spun toward the sound.

"What was that?"

Eleanor smiled.

"My granddaughter."

Clara rang it again.

And again.

The sound rolled across the ridge.

Marcus fired toward the shed.

Thomas lunged.

The gun went off.

Rebecca screamed.

Thomas hit Marcus with his good shoulder.

Both men fell.

Eleanor ran.

Marcus kicked Thomas away and raised the gun.

Rebecca threw herself sideways, chair and all.

The chair struck Marcus's knees.

He fell.

Eleanor grabbed the gun.

He caught her wrist.

"You stupid old woman."

She looked him in the eyes.

"People have underestimated me all week."

Then she drove her knee into him.

Marcus shouted.

Thomas stared.

Eleanor pulled the gun free.

"That was for calling me old."

Rebecca laughed despite everything.

Sirens sounded faintly.

Marcus stopped fighting.

Clara ran down from the shed.

"Grandma!"

"I'm fine."

"You have a gun."

"I noticed."

Thomas untied Rebecca.

His hands shook.

She stood and slapped him.

Eleanor blinked.

Thomas closed his eyes.

"I deserved that."

Rebecca slapped him again.

Eleanor murmured, "Family resemblance."

Rebecca turned to her.

Then stopped.

For a moment, the two women simply looked at each other.

Rebecca spoke first.

"So you're Eleanor."

"Yes."

"My mother hated your name."

Eleanor almost laughed.

"I don't blame her."

"She didn't hate you."

"Oh."

"She hated that Dad loved a ghost."

Thomas looked away.

Rebecca's eyes filled.

"He spent my whole childhood telling me not to live in the past while carrying yours everywhere."

Thomas whispered, "Rebecca."

"No."

Her anger cracked.

"You disappear for weeks chasing records about Willow Creek. You come home after Grandma—after Mom died—and suddenly decide you're going to prove you were murdered fifty years ago."

Thomas said, "I was trying to clear—"

"Your name?"

"Yes."

"At seventy-three?"

Thomas stopped.

Rebecca continued.

"You told me we were coming for a legal hearing. Then men break into the motel, drag me out, and suddenly I discover half your life was a lie."

Eleanor felt a painful recognition.

Rebecca looked at her.

"Apparently that's common around him."

Thomas said quietly, "Yes."

Rebecca stared at him.

No excuse.

It softened something.

She looked at Eleanor again.

"Did you know about me?"

"Today."

"Good."

"Why?"

"Because if you'd known for years and never contacted me, I might slap you too."

Eleanor smiled faintly.

"Fair."

Police arrived minutes later.

Ben took Marcus into custody.

Daniel came down the trail.

He hugged Rebecca awkwardly.

She stared at him.

"Who are you?"

"Your cousin."

She laughed helplessly.

"Of course."

Back at the farmhouse, everyone gathered in the kitchen.

Ben placed Harold's journals into evidence bags after photographing each page.

Daniel found the original title ledger in Peter's bedroom.

Thomas finally produced the original will from a waterproof pouch sewn into his coat.

Eleanor stared.

"You had it the whole time."

"Yes."

"You told Marcus—"

"I lied."

She almost smiled.

Clara pointed.

"He is learning."

Ben sat across from Daniel.

"Tell me about the sale."

Daniel rubbed his face.

"The lithium company offered forty-two million."

"Who benefits?"

"My father's estate, Carter Ridge Holdings, two local investors, and Marcus's firm."

Eleanor asked, "Michael?"

"His company gets almost thirteen million."

Thomas frowned.

"But if the original will stands?"

Daniel looked at him.

"Then Peter never legally owned the farm."

"Meaning Daniel doesn't either," Clara said.

Daniel nodded.

"And the mineral deal collapses."

Eleanor looked at Thomas.

"You own it."

"Maybe."

Daniel said, "The will has that condition."

The promise to Eleanor.

Thomas looked down.

"We never married."

"So the condition failed."

Eleanor frowned.

"Then who inherits?"

Daniel opened the will.

"If Thomas failed to fulfill the promise within one year for reasons within his control, the property passed to Peter."

Thomas's face tightened.

"So Peter gets it."

Daniel continued.

"But if Thomas was prevented by fraud, coercion, incapacity, or unlawful interference, the condition is suspended until the interference ends."

Clara stared.

"Fifty years later?"

Daniel nodded.

"Possibly."

Eleanor laughed.

"So what? Thomas has one year to marry me now?"

Everyone went silent.

Thomas nearly choked.

Rebecca covered her mouth.

Clara started laughing.

Daniel looked horrified.

"I don't think that is the legal interpretation."

Eleanor laughed harder.

For the first time in two days, the kitchen felt human.

Then Ben's phone rang.

He answered.

His smile vanished.

"What?"

Everyone quieted.

Ben listened.

Then looked at Eleanor.

"Michael is gone."

Eleanor stopped laughing.

"What do you mean?"

"He escaped during transport."

Thomas stood.

"How?"

"Vehicle was hit at an intersection."

Daniel whispered, "Marcus's people?"

Ben shook his head.

"We don't know."

Eleanor's phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

One photograph.

Her father's grave.

Below it:

YOU FOUND HIS JOURNALS.

NOW FIND WHAT HE BURIED WITH HIM.

Eleanor stared.

Thomas read over her shoulder.

Clara whispered, "Michael?"

Eleanor nodded.

Rebecca said, "What could be buried with your father?"

Eleanor looked at the message.

Then remembered the last years of Harold Carter's life.

Unable to speak.

Right hand paralyzed.

Always tapping his wedding ring against the arm of his chair.

Three taps.

Pause.

Three taps.

Her mother said it was frustration.

But once, when Eleanor visited his grave after the funeral, she noticed something strange carved into the back of the headstone.

A tiny number.

314.

She had never understood it.

Until now.

Eleanor whispered, "Not with him."

Thomas frowned.

"What?"

"Behind him."

Everyone stared.

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Eleanor looked toward the cemetery hill visible beyond the farm.

"My father left us one more place to search."