Chapter 6 - The Long Walk in the Dark
I didn't wait to see what his men would do next.
I turned and sprinted toward the passenger side of the truck, yanking the door open.
"Get out!" I shouted to Carol, hauling her out by the arm.
"Where are we going?" she panicked, struggling to balance as I handed her the crutches.
"Into the woods!" I commanded, pushing her toward the thick tree line.
Gunfire erupted behind us, the deafening cracks shattering the silence of the night.
A bullet pinged off the metal door of the truck, sending a shower of sparks into the air.
We plunged into the dense pine forest, the darkness immediately swallowing us whole.
I pushed branches out of the way, carving a path for Carol to swing through on her crutches.
She was incredibly strong, moving with a desperate rhythm despite the uneven, root-covered ground.
We ran blindly for what felt like hours, guided only by the faint silver glow of the moon.
The shouts of the security men slowly faded behind us, lost in the vast expanse of the woods.
When Carol finally collapsed against the trunk of a massive oak tree, I knew we had to stop.
She was gasping for air, her arms trembling from the extreme exertion.
"I can't go any further, Arthur," she whispered, tears of pure exhaustion streaking her face.
I sat down next to her in the damp leaves, my own chest heaving as adrenaline left my system.
"We are safe for now," I lied, knowing Bradley's men would be tracking us by morning.
We sat in the freezing darkness, the cold seeping through our jackets and chilling us to the bone.
"He is going to get away with it, isn't he?" Carol asked softly, her voice filled with despair.
"He has the police, the politicians, and now fake FBI agents."
I pulled out the flash drive, staring at it in the palm of my hand.
"This drive isn't enough anymore," I admitted, the painful truth settling over me.
"Even if we get it to Marcus, Bradley's lawyers will claim the files are forged."
Helen must have known digital evidence could be manipulated or dismissed in a corrupt court.
"Helen told me once that numbers on a screen can lie," I said, remembering my wife's quiet wisdom.
"But ink and paper cannot be easily erased."
Carol looked up, wiping her face.
"The physical ledger," she said, realization dawning in her eyes.
"She kept a handwritten book of every illegal transaction, every bribed inspector, every forged steel receipt."
I nodded, feeling a sudden surge of terrifying clarity.
"If we have the physical book, Bradley goes down, and no expensive lawyer can save him."
"But where is it?" Carol asked. "We searched the whole cabin."
I closed my eyes, picturing the house I had built with my own hands thirty years ago.
The house where Helen had raised Bradley, the house where she had spent her final days.
"It is not at the cabin," I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"She hid it in the one place Bradley would never think to tear apart."
Carol stared at me, waiting for the answer.
"She hid it in the main house," I said. "Our old house."
Carol's eyes widened in horror as she realized exactly what I was suggesting.
"Arthur, Bradley lives there now, and it is guarded by the very men trying to kill us."
I stood up, brushing the dirt from my jeans, my resolve hardening like cured concrete.
"I know every secret space in that house because I built it."
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I looked down at Carol, offering her my hand.
"We are going back home."
