Chapter 12 - Blood and Snow
The Suburbans ascended the winding, pine-flanked road leading to the Rosewood Chalet. The estate stood majestic against the snow, built of dark timber and river stone, surrounded by towering evergreens. Smoke was curling from the chimney, but it wasn't a cozy fire—it was the toxic smell of industrial acetylene torches cutting through steel.
Briggs and his tactical team breached the front gates quietly, surrounding the perimeter.
I stepped into the grand great room of the chalet. The memories hit me instantly: childhood Christmases with my mother, the sound of the piano, the smell of fresh cedar and rose petals.
And now, the antique pine floors were scuffed with mud, and the sound of mechanical grinding echoed from the cellar stairs.
"Vanessa," I called out, my voice ringing clear and steady through the vaulted ceiling.
The grinding noise stopped abruptly.
Moments later, Vanessa Sterling emerged from the stone staircase leading to the cellar. She wore an expensive white fur coat, but her makeup was smeared, and her hands were coated in dark machine grease. In her right hand, she held an antique brass lockbox, already pried open.
"You really don't know when to stay down, do you, Elena?" Vanessa snarled, stepping into the great room. Behind her, two burly men carrying crowbars and sidearms stepped into view, but stopped cold when they saw Briggs’s team aiming tactical rifles at them from the balconies above.
"Tell your men to drop the weapons," I said calmly. "You are trespassing on private property, Vanessa. And you're out of moves."
Vanessa laughed, a frantic, shrill sound. "Private property? This entire estate was bought with my father’s money! Arthur Vance stole the Sterling fortune and hid it behind your mother’s skirts!"
"Arthur Vance didn't steal anything," a commanding voice boomed from the front entryway.
Vanessa and I both turned in shock.
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Standing in the open doorway, framed by the falling snow, was a tall, silver-haired man in a heavy cashmere overcoat. His jaw was square, his posture military-straight, and his piercing green eyes matched my own.
Arthur Vance had arrived.