Chapter 6 - The Secret of the Ridge
The Ford F-150 roared to life, its V8 engine tearing down the unpaved desert access road with reckless speed. The digital dashboard display flashed a blinking red dot—the live signal from the GPS tracker pulsing steadily three miles ahead, heading north toward the old Salt River canyon ridge.
"Dad, why is she heading out toward the gorge?" Daniel gripped the passenger oh-shit handle as the truck bounced violently over a cattle guard, tires churning up dust and gravel. "There’s nothing out there except the abandoned mining tunnels and the old bridge overlook."
"There’s history out there," Robert said, his hands locked tightly on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the winding ribbon of asphalt cutting through the dark silhouettes of the superstition mountains. "That’s where her stepfather, Thomas Vance, staged her mother’s disappearance seventeen years ago. Criminals always return to the scene of their masterpiece when they think they’re finishing the final chapter."
Daniel looked over at his father in the dashboard light. "You knew who she was all along, didn't you? When she asked about your old cases at dinner... you knew."
"I didn't have a name until you found that folder," Robert replied, shifting down a gear as the truck climbed a steep, winding incline. "But I knew someone was coming. When you spend thirty years putting bad people away, you learn that ghosts don't stay in the ground. They wait until you think you're safe, and then they come knocking on your front door on Thanksgiving afternoon."
"And Carol? The kids?" Daniel’s voice trembled with fear. "If we're out here... what’s happening back at the house?"
"Jim is smarter than you think," Robert said grimly. "Before I left the kitchen, I tapped him on the shoulder and gave him the code for the emergency basement hatch. By now, they’re out in the backyard breathing fresh air. They’re safe, Daniel. Right now, our only job is to end this before she hurts anyone else."
The truck crested the final ridge of the canyon.
Ahead of them, parked right at the edge of the jagged cliff where the guardrails had been smashed open seventeen years ago, sat the silver SUV. Its hazard lights blinked rhythmically against the pitch-black abyss of the gorge below.
Robert cut the headlights, letting the truck roll silently to a stop fifty yards behind the SUV.
The desert wind howled across the cliffside, carrying the dry scent of sagebrush and impending rain.
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Vanessa stood near the edge of the precipice, her blonde hair whipping wildly around her face in the gale. She was holding a heavy, leather-bound ledger book in one hand and a satellite phone in the other.
As Robert and Daniel stepped out of the truck, the gravel crunching under their boots, Vanessa turned around. She didn't look surprised. She looked triumphant.
