Page 92 of Her Final Hours
Noah’s gaze darted left, his eyes straining to glimpse Alicia, but the blizzard’s fury obscured her from sight. Still, he knew she was there, watching over him through her scope, a silent guardian in the tempest.
A brief nod, an unspoken appreciation, passed between him and Alicia. It was a connection forged in the crucible of danger and trust. Then, mustering every ounce of strength left in his battered body, Noah turned away and began returning to the lake’s edge where Mia stood, shivering in the biting cold.
The howling wind and cracking ice provided a haunting soundtrack to his retreat.
Noah approached Mia, his arm throbbing with pain, his heart aching with relief and concern. He gently enveloped her in his arms, providing what little warmth and reassurance he could in the freezing storm. “You’re safe now,” he murmured.
Mia’s eyes flickered with worry as they landed on his bloodstained clothes. “You’re bleeding, Dad,” she whispered, her voicetrembling with fear. Noah smiled reassuringly, masking the pain that pulsed through his body.
“I’ll be alright,” he assured her.
Reaching the lodge, Noah pushed open the heavy door, a rush of warmth enveloping them as they stepped inside. The few guests who had witnessed the chaotic scene stared wide-eyed, unsure of what had just unfolded. Noah paid them little attention. He focused on the lobby, where a crackling fire provided a flickering heat source. He guided Mia to a nearby couch, easing himself down beside her. He took a moment to catch his breath, his body screaming with each movement.
Blaring sirens and flashing lights arrived within minutes, casting a glow over the lodge. The Sheriff’s Office had arrived, their presence marking the end of the harrowing ordeal. Accompanying them were EMTs ready to tend to his wounds.
Noah, his body battered and spirit weary, felt relief and profound sadness. The arrival of law enforcement wasn’t a cause for celebration; there were no winners in this battle. Payton Scott still hadn’t been found. Frank, who had held them captive and threatened their lives, was nothing more than a cog in a much larger machinery of human traffickers. The darkness of their actions reached far and wide, permeating every facet of life.
Though they had struck a blow against the network of evil, Noah understood the grim reality beneath the surface. While their actions would send ripples through the tangled web of exploitation in the area, potentially saving countless victims and bringing other perpetrators to justice — it was only a dent in a more extensive operation.
Still, as Callie and McKenzie entered, joined by Alicia, and the sirens continued to wail, their mournful sound echoing in the frigid air, they stood opposed as beacons of hope, a line ofdefense against an elusive darkness that would attempt to cripple High Peaks.
After he brought them up to speed, and as EMTs loaded him into the back of an ambulance, Callie climbed in. “I’ve got news,” Callie said.
“Can it wait?”
“It can, but I thought you’d want to know that Rishi thinks he’s found the blue truck.”
34
Friday, March 31, 10:05 a.m.
It was a confession that rocked him to his core but brought peace to his soul.
Almost a week later, Noah wound his Bronco through the snowy landscapes of Saranac Lake, the aftermath of the snowstorm still visible in every direction. The promising warm front of April was on the way, teasing them with better weather. As he approached the home, anticipation mingled with a tinge of unease. Aiden West, the pastor who was set to marry Noah’s late ex-wife Lena, had a good reputation. That was only bolstered by Lena’s words about him. For these reasons and more, a spotlight had never really been shone on him. Noah harbored suspicions about the accident that claimed her life, believing it to be murder. But with little to go on until now, the investigation was still in progress — an elusive truth waiting to be uncovered.
Although today’s visit had a different purpose, one related to the past but veiled in a different guise, the two were interlinked.
Aiden’s home stood out in the wintry terrain – a charming cabin adorned with rustic details. The wooden exterior was painted a warm, weathered brown, and a stone chimney reached skyward, releasing gentle plumes of smoke into the crisp air. The snow-covered porch added a serene touch to the surroundings, while icicles hung like glistening ornaments from the eaves.
As Noah pulled into the driveway, he noticed Aiden out front, bundled up in winter attire, battling the remnants of the snowstorm with a roaring snowblower. The machine’s loud rumble ceased as Noah parked the Bronco, and Aiden approached, extending a gloved hand for a firm handshake.
“Noah. Good to see you,” he said warmly, as if he meant it. Authenticity was often the first thing Noah recognized in those he met. He was so used to meeting those who lied, the line between them had blurred.
“Likewise.”
“One hell of a storm we had. It’s going to take some time for the town to recover.”
Their initial exchange was casual, sharing anecdotes about the wildness of the recent weather. Aiden then turned his attention to Noah’s well-being.
“I heard about what happened. I’m glad you got her back. How is Mia?”
“She’s shaken up but safe.”
Noah was relaxed yet vigilant, aware that darker secrets lingered beneath the façade of friendliness.
Curiosity finally prompted Aiden to inquire about the purpose of his visit. Sensing the opportune moment, Noah steered the conversation toward a seemingly unrelated topic. “You own a 1984 Chevrolet, yes?” he asked, carefully observing Aiden’s reaction.
A flicker of nervousness passed over his face, and his gaze momentarily wandered down the road before returning to meet Noah’s eyes. Nodding slowly, Aiden confirmed. “I do. It’s a work in progress. Figured I would, you know, fix it up in my spare time.”
