A Homeless….

She opened the back door and saw darkness where the generator shed sat. Then a beam of light flashed through the trees.

Not an accident.

Someone was out there.

Grace backed inside and bolted the door.

“Kids,” she said evenly, “cellar. Now.”

Caleb’s eyes went wide. Ellie grabbed his hand without argument.

Grace heard boots on the porch a second later.

A fist slammed against the front door.

Then another.

“County code enforcement!” a man shouted. “Open up!”

“At ten o’clock at night?” Grace shot back.

No answer. Just another blow.

Grace shoved the ledger, affidavit, and trust papers into a canvas bag she had kept ready. Daniel had taken copies, but she refused to let the originals out of reach. She grabbed the recorder and the bag, pushed the children toward the trapdoor, and killed the lantern.

The front window shattered.

Caleb screamed.

Grace got them down the ladder and pulled the trapdoor nearly shut above them, leaving only a sliver for air and sound. In the dark cellar, she pressed the kids against the stone wall and wrapped an arm around each.

Footsteps entered the cabin.

Drawers yanked open overhead. Furniture scraped. Glass broke.

A man’s voice hissed, “Find the papers.”

Another said, “Mercer said she had a box.”

Grace closed her eyes once, hard.

There it was. The name she needed.

Ellie’s fingers dug into her sleeve. Grace lowered her mouth near the recorder in her hand and pressed the red button.

Above them, boots pounded across the floor. Something heavy crashed.

Then came a sharper voice—calm, furious, unmistakable.

Wade Mercer.

“I told you to keep it clean,” he snapped. “If the originals aren’t here, she moved them. Search upstairs.”