Now Derek Vaughn had walked into his garage.
And knocked on a door that should have remained closed.
Friday Night
Friday arrived with snow clouds gathering over the mountains.
At 4:00 p.m., Derek Vaughn returned.
This time he brought six men.
Will was waiting.
The garage door was open.
Ray Dobbins stood across the street.
Mrs. Whitfield watched from her porch.
Emily stood outside the diner.
Nobody spoke.
Derek stepped from the SUV.
“Got my money?”
“No.”
Derek smiled.
“Then I guess you made your choice.”
Will looked at the men.
“Did you?”
Derek’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“Did they tell you what they were getting into?”
Derek walked closer.
“You really think being mysterious is going to scare me?”
“No.”
Will stepped toward him.
“I think the truth will.”
A car turned onto Main Street.
Then another.
Then another.
Black SUVs.
Three of them.
They stopped around Derek’s vehicles.
Doors opened.
Men and women stepped out.
Not soldiers.
Not police officers.
Older.
Calmer.
The kind of people who moved with the confidence of those who had survived things most people could never imagine.
Derek stared.
“What the hell is this?”
Will sighed.
“I told you.”
Derek looked at him.
“You have no idea who you’re standing in front of.”
One of the newcomers approached.
Frank.
Older than Will.
Broad-shouldered despite his age.
He held out a folder.
“Derek Vaughn?”
Derek said nothing.
Frank dropped the folder on the hood of an SUV.
Inside were photographs.
Bank records.
Property transfers.
Names.
“Your little protection business has been operating in five counties,” Frank said.
Derek’s face changed.
“How did you get that?”
Frank smiled.
“You really should have asked about the old man.”
Sirens sounded in the distance.
Derek turned.
Sheriff vehicles were approaching.
But Derek suddenly laughed.
“You think this is over?”
He looked at Will.
“You’re seventy years old.”
Will nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
“You can’t protect everyone.”
Will looked across the street.
Emily.
Lily.
Ray.
Mrs. Whitfield.
Then the entire town.
“No,” Will said.
“I can’t.”
He stepped closer.
“But I know people who can.”
Fire in Silver Creek
Derek was arrested.
By midnight, three of his men had agreed to cooperate.
The evidence against him was overwhelming.
But Derek had been right about one thing.
He wasn’t working alone.
Two days later, Silver Creek learned the truth.
A state investigator named Marshall Keene had been feeding Derek information.
Permits.
Police schedules.
Financial records.
And protection from outside investigation.
Derek’s arrest was supposed to expose the network.
Instead, it made the people behind it panic.
At 2:17 in the morning, Will woke up.
He heard a sound.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But wrong.
He sat up.
Listened.
Then smelled smoke.
Will was out of bed before the fire alarm activated.
He grabbed his jacket and drove toward town.
His garage was burning.
Orange flames climbed through the roof.
Emily was already there.
So was half of Silver Creek.
“Will!” she screamed.
He stopped beside her.
“Are you okay?”
“My daughter’s at home.”
“Good.”
“Will, your garage—”
He watched the building burn.
Fifteen years.
Gone.
Emily took his arm.
“I’m so sorry.”
Will looked at her.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“Do you know what I learned when I was young?”