Chapter 14 - The Safe House In The Woods And The Final Call To Federal Prosecutor Vance
The pursuit through the snow-covered back roads of Montgomery County felt like a nightmare that refused to end.
Daniel drove with a reckless, terrifying skill born of a life spent running from the law and the Chicago syndicate.
He drifted the black Mercedes around icy corners with the precision of a professional rally driver, sending plumes of snow flying into the hedgerows while the two black SUVs pounded relentlessly against our bumper, their tires throwing sheets of slush against our smashed rear window.
“They’re gaining on us!” I shouted over the screaming engine and Maddie’s continuous screams from the back seat. “Daniel, where are we going? There’s nowhere to run out here!”
“There’s one place,” Daniel replied, his voice terrifyingly calm as his eyes darted between the rearview mirror and the dark, tree-lined highway ahead. “A safehouse the feds don't even know about. An old Moretti logging cabin fifty miles north in the Wayne National Forest.”
“A log cabin in the middle of winter?” I yelled. “With two kids?”
“It has a reinforced basement, a satellite phone, and enough perimeter defenses to hold off an infantry division,” Daniel said, shifting down a gear as the Mercedes rocketed up a steep, snow-packed incline. “Hold on! This curve is iced over!”
The heavy car hit the sheet of ice sideways, spinning a full 360 degrees before slamming tires-first into a snowbank just off the shoulder of the deserted mountain road.
The engine stalled.
The headlights flickered and died, plunging us into total darkness, save for the pale glow of the moon reflecting off the snowdrifts.
“Are you okay?” Daniel asked instantly, turning around in his seat to check on Lily and Maddie.
“I-I’m okay, Mr. Whitmore,” Lily sobbed quietly, clutching her stuffed rabbit so hard her knuckles were white. “Is the bad men gone?”
“Not yet, bug,” Daniel said softly, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his spare Beretta pistol, racking the slide with a sharp, metallic clack. “But they’re about to find out why no one messes with this family.”
He grabbed his encrypted satellite phone from the center console, punching in a rapid series of numbers.
It rang twice before a sharp, exhausted voice answered on the other end.
“This is Prosecutor Catherine Vance. If this isn’t an absolute emergency, I am going to have you arrested for waking me up at—”
“Catherine, it’s Daniel,” he interrupted, his voice dropping into that lethal, commanding baritone. “Salvatore Vance is running a rogue syndicate division out of Cincinnati. They just hit my house in Oak Creek with an armed tactical team.”
Silence stretched across the satellite line for three seconds.
Then Catherine’s voice changed instantly from annoyed prosecutor to tactical commander.
“Where are you?”
“Route 33, near the old Moretti logging cabin in Wayne National Forest. We crashed the car off the shoulder. Two black SUVs are right behind us. They’ll be on our position in less than three minutes.”
“Listen to me very carefully, Daniel,” Catherine ordered, her voice hard as steel. “Do not engage unless you have to. I am scrambling a federal tactical unit out of Columbus right now. They’ll be there in twenty minutes. Can you hold out for twenty minutes?”
Daniel looked out the smashed rear window.
May you like
Down the dark, winding mountain road, two sets of headlights cut through the falling snow, slowing down as they swept the treeline, searching for our tracks in the drifts.
“Twenty minutes?” Daniel said, a grim, humorless smile touching the corner of his mouth as he popped open the glove compartment and pulled out two extra magazines of ammunition. “Catherine... you don't know the Moretti family. We were born in the snow.”
