So, why was the place even on Charlie’s radar? Was it purely a human-interest story, as Charlie had suggested? Or was there more to it than that?
Maybe Charlie was testing her ability to ferret out information. To take a nonstory and turn it into something that would sell. Or ... he really did believe that these were the only kinds of assignments she could handle. The thought was as depressing as it was motivating.
Did Sanctuary sound like a good cause? Sure. Who wouldn’t support a project to benefit the service men and women of the country? But it didn’t exactly make for riveting copy. How many people would actually want to read about it?
Not many, most likely. People wanted drama; that was what sold articles and got subscriptions. Scandal. Corruption. Sex. Stories that involved a secret men’s club of wealthy playboys, high-ranking government officials, and industry leaders who liked whips and chains and had kinky fetishes.
At first glance, Sanctuary had none of that. But maybe, if she were lucky, she’d find something interesting when she started digging.
By the time her flight called for boarding, Bree was determined to prove once and for all that she was every bit the journalist she purported to be.
Chapter Four
Cage
Ian Callaghan lived with his wife and kids just outside of Pine Ridge. The quaint stone cottage was nestled in the mountains on a large, private parcel, set far enough back that it wasn’t visible from the road.
While it was a beautiful place, Cage had expected something bigger and more ostentatious, what with Ian’s wife Lexi being the co-owner and executive chef of the Celtic Goddess franchise. Then again, Cage knew the importance of not judging a book by its cover, especially when it came to the Callaghans. They were a hell of a lot more than they seemed at first glance.
“Cage,” Ian greeted, opening the door with a friendly smile and a firm handshake. “Glad you could make it. Any problems finding the place?”
“I might have driven past the entrance once or twice,” Cage admitted. “It’s not obvious.”
Ian grinned. “That’s the idea. Come on in.”
Ian led him through the house, which turned out to be a lot bigger than it appeared on the outside, prompting Cage to say as much.
“The original structure belonged to Lexi’s grandmother and had only a few rooms. A cousin of ours in Birch Falls helped us expand. He added some bedrooms and bathrooms, plus a gourmet kitchen for Lex.”
“He did a great job,” Cage commented, looking around the space. Lots of stone, lots of exposed beams, and open space.
“Yeah, he’s damn good at what he does. You might want to give him a call. Johnny Connelly, Connelly Construction. Historical renovations are his passion. I’m sure he’d love to get a look at Sanctuary, especially some of those outbuildings.”
“I’ll mention it to Church.”
Ian opened the door to a room that was a geek’s wet dream. Cage whistled softly as he took in the multitude of screens and components. One image in particular caught his attention.
“Is that ...”
Ian smirked. “A real-time feed of your local prepper group compound in HD? Why, yes, yes, it is. Thought you’d want a quick demo of what you’re getting. Try before you buy and all that.” He tapped a key and the image changed to several men unloading crates from an unmarked delivery truck.
“Satellite?” Cage guessed.
Ian nodded, his blue eyes twinkling. “Privately owned and operated. We’ll give you the codes, so you can access it from Sanctuary.”
“Sweet.”
Ian tapped another key and the picture zoomed in closer. Cage watched Daryl Freed, the chief of the Sumneyville Police Department, and his nephew, Lenny Petraski, talking with someone beside the truck. The picture was so clear that he could make out the fresh shaving cut beneath Lenny’s jaw.
Ian handed Cage a controller, similar to one used for video games. In the center was a smaller screen streaming the same live feed as the bigger one. “Go on. Take it for a test drive.”
Cage moved the tiny joystick with his thumb, and the scope changed. He focused on the crates and zeroed in on those. If they were anything like the ones they’d found in the abandoned mine shafts beneath the prepper compound, they contained arms and ammunition.
“I did some quick searches. The company name stamped on those crates is legit, but we don’t think what’s inside the boxes actually comes from them,” Ian said, growing more serious. “Next time you guys are down in the mines, how about grabbing a couple samples, so we can take them apart and find out exactly where they’re coming from?”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Cage assured him.
“Excellent. While you’re at it, you might as well drop a few of these.” Ian handed Cage a box of small items about the size of thumbtacks.
Cage took one out of the box and examined it. “Bugs?”
Ian nodded. “Super sensitive, too. What’s a movie without quality audio?”
Cage was impressed. “You have the coolest toys.”
Ian laughed. “That I do.”
“Where do you even get this stuff?”
“That I can’t tell you. But I am willing to share with someone who can appreciate the beauty of microtech, especially when it’s for a good cause.”
It was for a good cause. A Sumneyville survivalist group was amassing an alarming cache of weapons and ammunition along with other provisions like food, water, and fuel in the compound that just happened to border Sanctuary property. Through a series of seemingly random events, Cage and his partners had discovered that much of the arsenal was being kept in recently shored-up abandoned coal mine shafts underground.
Since the majority of the members they’d been able to identify were regular folk, the excessive stockpiling of lethal firepower had raised red flags. Thankfully, the Callaghans thought
