His father's initials.
Ethan opened the box.
Inside was a photograph.
He froze.
The photograph showed his father standing beside three men outside a mine shaft.
One of them was Sheriff Walter Harlan.
Another was a younger version of ranch owner Victor Crane, the wealthiest man in Cedar Ridge.
And the third man—
Ethan stopped breathing.
It was Daniel.
The photograph had been taken only months before Daniel disappeared.
On the back, written in his father's handwriting, were seven words:
If Daniel vanishes, trust no one.
A floorboard creaked behind Ethan.
He turned.
The cabin was empty.
But outside, somewhere beyond the trees, a horse whinnied.
Then came the sound of footsteps running through the forest.
Ethan grabbed his revolver and rushed onto the porch.
A dark figure disappeared between the pines.
He raised his weapon.
“Stop!”
The figure kept running.
Ethan started after him.
Then a gunshot cracked through the mountains.
The bullet struck the tree beside Ethan's head.
He dropped behind a fallen log.
The forest became silent again.
Whoever had brought him back to the cabin did not want him asking questions.
They wanted him dead.
And suddenly Ethan understood something terrifying.
Daniel's disappearance had never been an old mystery.
It had only been waiting for him to come home.
The Photograph
Ethan spent the night inside the cabin with the revolver beside him.
He did not sleep.
Every sound became a warning.
Branches scratched against the roof.
Wind moved through the pines.
Once, around two in the morning, he heard what sounded like a horse walking around the cabin.
He stepped outside with the rifle.
There was nothing there.
At dawn, Ethan examined the photograph again.
His father stood on the left.
Victor Crane stood beside him.
Sheriff Walter Harlan was on the other side.
And Daniel stood between them.
Daniel looked younger than Ethan remembered, perhaps twenty-four.
He was smiling.
That bothered Ethan more than anything.
Daniel had never smiled for photographs.
Not willingly.
Yet here he was, standing beside three men Ethan had never known were connected.
Behind them was an abandoned mine shaft.
Ethan recognized the location.
Black Hollow Mine.
The mine had closed twenty-five years earlier after a collapse killed three workers.
Everyone in Cedar Ridge knew the story.
The mine had been exhausted.
That was why it closed.
At least, that was what everyone had been told.
Ethan turned the photograph over.
There were no more words.
He opened his father's notebook.
Most of the pages contained ordinary hunting notes.
Weather.
Animal tracks.
Water sources.
Then the handwriting changed.
The notes became shorter.
More urgent.
Victor Crane is buying land around Black Hollow.
A few pages later:
Harlan is helping him.
Then:
There is still something inside the mine.
Ethan's stomach tightened.
He continued reading.
Daniel found the shipment records.
The next page had been torn out.
Then another entry.
If anything happens to me, Daniel knows where the ledger is.
Ethan sat back.
His father had died of a heart attack.
At least, that was what the doctors had said.
But now Ethan wondered if Samuel had been afraid before his death.
A knock came at the door.
Ethan reached for the revolver.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Another knock.
Three slow taps.
Ethan approached the door.
“Identify yourself.”
A woman's voice answered.
“Ethan? It's Mara.”
Ethan lowered the gun slightly.
Mara Bell.
She had grown up in Cedar Ridge and had worked as a schoolteacher before becoming a reporter for the county paper.
She was also Daniel's closest friend.
Ethan opened the door.
Mara stood on the porch wearing a brown coat and carrying a canvas bag.
Her eyes immediately went to the rifle in Ethan's hand.
“So,” she said quietly. “You found it.”
Ethan stared at her.
“You knew about the cabin?”
“I knew your father was hiding something.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know who I could trust.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“That seems to be everyone's favorite answer.”
Mara stepped inside.
She looked around.
“Has anyone been here?”