Adam sat down in the recliner and flipped through the pages, then carefully examined the binding. It took several minutes of searching before he found the tiny rolled piece of paper that had been slipped up into the spine of the book where the stitching had come loose. He used a pen to carefully fish it out. The note contained a handwritten number in blue ink: 47.
He flipped to page forty-seven and read the text. If there was a clue hidden within the dialogue about knight-errantry, it was lost on Adam.
Reaching for his phone, he snapped a shot of the note, then rerolled the paper and returned it to the spine of the book. He took another quick survey of the cabin before he doused the flashlight and went out the same way he’d come in. He was still at the top of the steps when he spotted a boat gliding across the lake without lights or an engine.
Clouds smothered all but a faint shimmer of moonlight. The night was very dark and yet there was no mistaking the movement of the boat or the distant splash of water against oars. He could just make out the silhouette of the rower as he bent to his task. For a moment, Adam thought the small craft might drift right up to the spot where he’d left his grandmother’s boat, but instead the prow turned toward the dock, making it impossible for Adam to descend the steps without being seen.
Retreating back into the cabin, he purposefully left the latches unlocked and then hid behind the bedroom door, positioning himself so that he could peer out into the other room. A few minutes went by before a figure wearing a black hoodie appeared on the deck.
A face pressed against the glass, but Adam couldn’t make out his features. The man looked to be taller than average with a muscular build. He lifted his hand and shone a flashlight beam into the space before trying the latches. Adam sank back from the opening. The light went out, and a moment later, he heard the hinges squeak as the doors opened, and then footsteps thudded across the wooden floor.
The intruder’s movements were efficient but unhurried as he made his way around the cabin, searching through the desk and side table drawers, then turning his attention to the bathroom and finally the bedroom. Adam had never shied away from confrontation, but at the moment, he was far more interested in finding out what the intruder might be after. He dropped to the floor and rolled silently under the bed.
The man entered the room and moved around the space, opening drawers and the closet door and then pausing beside the bed while Adam held his breath. The intruder lingered as though sensing a presence. Adam braced for an attack. Already the adrenaline was starting to pump. But the man turned and went back into the main room. The footsteps receded, the French doors clicked shut and he was gone.
Adam slid from underneath the bed and glanced into the other room, scouting all the shadowy corners before locking the doors and easing across the deck. He paused once again to scan the area, but the man in black had vanished.
Keeping to the shadows, Adam slipped down the steps far enough to see the dock. The boat was still tied off. The intruder hadn’t gone far.
Whether Adam heard a slight noise, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, or his instincts were that highly attuned to the night, he didn’t know, but he immediately ducked. A bullet whizzed past his cheek, exploding the bark of a pine tree to his right as the crack of gunfire echoed out over the water.
For one stunned moment, Adam was back in Dallas, back on that porch with the sound of gunfire ringing in his ears. He hadn’t worn body armor that day. It was supposed to be a routine arrest. Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all out of the ordinary. Just as this should have been a routine search of Dr. Nance’s cabin. No one else was supposed to be here.
For what seemed an eternity, Adam hunkered on the steps, partially concealed by the overgrown vegetation and the encroaching shadows. He told himself to move, take cover, and yet he remained captive to a deadly paralysis. He could see the shooter out of the corner of his eye. The man hovered at the top of the stairs as if waiting to see if he’d hit his mark. He came down the steps slowly at first and then in a rush, surprisingly fleet of foot for someone his size.
Adam reacted on instinct just as he had after the Dallas shooting. That day, he’d bled profusely from his wounds as he crawled to the corner of the house seeking cover. He didn’t remember anything else. He’d never even heard the sirens.
Tonight, there were no sirens. No sound at all once the echo of gunfire had died away over the water. The humid night seemed to close in on him as he crouched in the bushes and waited. He drew a breath and then another, settling his nerves before maneuvering into a position where he could glimpse the stairs. The footsteps had gone silent. He could imagine the shooter pausing to listen for a snapping twig or a hitched breath. Anything that would give away his quarry’s position.
The cloudy sky worked in Adam’s favor now. He couldn’t see the shooter from his vantage, but neither could the shooter see him. Questions lurked at the back of his mind. Who was this guy and what had he been looking for in Dr. Nance’s cabin? Adam pushed the queries aside and concentrated on what he did know. He was unarmed, so surprise was his best weapon.
A wooden step creaked and then another as the shooter descended cautiously. The notion crossed
