Chapter 14 - shadow of the ridge
The silence inside the weaver's cottage was deafening after Sarah's admission. The cold rain outside rattled against the broken windowpanes, matching the panic rising in my chest.
"You sold it?" I repeated, my voice barely a whisper. "Sarah, that quilt had the combination to the vault sewn into it!"
"I didn't know!" Sarah pleaded, tears springing to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself. "It was old, the cotton was fraying, and I needed money for Lily's medical bills last autumn. A collector of vintage textiles bought it. He left a business card... I think I still have it in my wallet!"
She rummaged franticly through her purse, pulling out a small leather pouch and dumping its contents onto the dusty workbench. Among receipts, spare change, and hairpins, a small beige card fluttered to the floor.
I scooped it up. Printed in elegant black typography were the words: M. Sterling Antiques & Curiosities - 142 River Street.
"We go there now," I said, packing the tape player, tapes, and notebook back into the metal box and sealing the floor compartment. "If Thorne managed to bury my mother's story fifteen years ago, he won't hesitate to erase any trace left behind if he finds out we're looking for it."
As we made our way back toward the car, the rain intensified into a blinding downpour. Just as I reached the driver's side door, I caught a glimpse of something in my side mirror—a dark, sleek sedan parked fifty yards back along the narrow dirt track, its headlights turned off, its engine idling silently in the fog.
Someone had followed us to Blackwood Ridge.
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"Get in, quickly!" I yelled to Sarah, throwing the metal box onto the passenger seat and jumping into the car. I turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life, and slammed the gear into drive.
The black sedan's headlights suddenly flashed on, blinding white beams cutting through the gloom as it accelerated down the narrow track directly toward us.
