My finger stops tapping against the keyboard. “Excuse me?”

“The Homestead mine. Place is empty.”

“You sure about that?”

“Son, the Homestead may’ve broke ground in 1876, but the last ounce of gold was mined almost twenty years ago. Since then, seven different companies have tried to prove everyone wrong, and the last one went bust so ugly, they took most of the town with ’em. That’s why the land’s been sitting with the government. There used to be nine thousand of us here in town. Now we’re a hundred and fifty-seven. You don’t need an abacus to do that math.”

As he says the words, the storage room is dead silent, but I can barely hear myself think. “So you’re telling me there’s no gold in that mine?”

“Not for twenty years,” he repeats.

I nod even though he can’t see me. It doesn’t make any sense. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mayor – maybe I’m just dense, but if there’s no chance of finding gold, then why’d you write that letter?”

“What letter?”

My eyes drop to the desk, where Matthew’s old notebook holds a letter endorsing the land transfer to Wendell Mining. It’s signed by the mayor of Leed, South Dakota.

“You are Mayor Tom Regan, right?”

“Yep. Only one.”

I study the signature at the bottom of the letter. Then I reread it again. There’s a slight smudge on the R in Regan that makes it look just messy enough that it’d never get a second glance. And right there, for the first time since this all started, I start to see the ripple in the mirror.

“You still there, son?” the mayor asks.

“Yeah… no… I’m here,” I say. “I just… Wendell Mining…”

“Let me tell you about Wendell Mining. When they first came sniffing here, I personally called MSHA to-”

“Em-sha?”

“Mine Safety and Health Administration – the safety boys. When you’re mayor, you gotta know who’s coming to your town. So when I talked to my buddy there, he said these guys at Wendell may’ve bought the original mining claims to the land, and filed all the right paperwork, and even put enough money in someone’s pocket to get a favorable mineral report – but so help me, when we looked up their track record, these boys’ve never operated a single mine in their lives.”

A sharp pain in my stomach burns, and the fire quickly spreads. “You sure about that?”

“Son, did Elvis love bacon? I’ve seen this one a hundred and nineteen times before. A company like Wendell has a little bit of money, and a lotta bit of greed. If anyone would bother to ask me my opinion, I’d tell ’em that the last thing we need around here is to get everyone’s hopes up and then see ’em squashed once again. You know how it is in a small town… when those trucks showed up-”

“Trucks?” I interrupt.

“The ones that showed up last month. Isn’t that what you’re calling about?”

“Y-Yeah. Of course.” Matthew transferred the gold mine barely three days ago. Why were trucks there a month ago? “So they’re already mining?” I ask, completely confused.

“God knows what they’re doing… I went up there myself – y’know, just to make sure they’re doing things right with the union… Let me tell you right now, they don’t have a single piece of mining equipment up there. Not even a pelican pick. And when I asked them about it… let me just say… crickets aren’t as jumpy. I mean, those boys shooed me away like a fly on the wrong end of a horse.”

My hand holds tight to the receiver. “You think they’re doing something other than mining?”

“I don’t know what they’re doing, but if it were up to me-” He cuts himself off. “Son, can you hold on one second?” Before I can answer, I hear him in the background. “Aunt Mollie,” he calls out, suddenly excited. “What can I get you, dear?”

“Just the regular,” a woman with the sweetest hometown twang replies. “No jelly on the toast.”

Behind me, someone pounds shave-and-a-haircut against the door. “It’s me,” Viv calls out. I stretch the phone cord and undo the lock.

Viv steps inside, but the tap dance in her step is gone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did you get the-”

She pulls my electronic organizer from the waist of her pants and tosses it straight at me. “There – you happy?” she asks.

“What happened? Was it not where I said it was?”

“I saw an FBI agent in your office,” she blurts.

“What?”

“He was there – talking to your assistant.”

I slam down the phone on the mayor. “What’d he look like?”

“I don’t know…”

“No – forget I don’t know. What’d he look like?” I insist.

She reads my panic easily but, unlike last time, doesn’t brush it off. “I didn’t see him that long… buzzed salt-and-pepper hair… I guess a creepy smile… and eyes that kinda, well… kinda look like a hound dog if that makes any sense…”

My throat locks up, and my eyes flash over to the door. More specifically, the doorknob. It’s unlocked.

I dart full speed at the door, ready to twist the lock shut. But just as I’m about to grab it, the door bursts toward me, slamming into my shoulder. Viv screams, and a thick hand slides through the crack.

THE DOOR’S BARELY open an inch, but Janos already has his hand inside. Viv’s still screaming, and I’m still moving. Lucky for me, momentum’s on my side.

My full weight collides with the door, pinching Janos’s fingers in the doorjamb. I expect him to yell as he yanks his hand free. He barely grunts. Viv also goes dead silent, and I look over to make sure she’s okay. She’s standing there, eyes closed and hands clasped around her ID. Praying.

As the door slams shut, I dive for the lock and click it into place. The door thunders as Janos rams himself against it. The hinges shudder. We’re not gonna last long.

“Window!” I say, turning back toward Viv, who finally looks up. She’s frozen in shock. Her eyes look like they’re about to explode. I grab her hand and twirl her toward the small window that’s high up on the wall. It’s got two panes that swing outward like shutters.

There’s another thunderclap against the door.

Viv turns and panics. “He’s-”

“Just go!” I shout, pulling one of the spare chairs toward the windowsill.

Hopping up on the chair, Viv can’t stop her hands from shaking as she tries to unhook the window latch.

“Hurry!” I beg as the door once again rumbles.

She pounds the windows, but they don’t move.

“Harder!” I tell her.

She hits them again. She’s not a small girl – the impact’s tremendous.

“I think they’re painted shut!”

“Here, let me-”

With the base of her palm, Viv gives it one final shove, and the left window pops open, swinging out toward the rooftop. Her hands lock on the windowsill, and I give her a boost up. There’s a loud bang against the front door. The lock buckles. Two screws look like they’re about to come loose.

Viv turns toward the sound.

“Don’t look!” I tell her.

She’s already halfway out the window. I grab her ankles and give her one final push.

Another screw flies from the lock and clinks against the floor. We’re out of time. I hop on the chair just as Viv crashes against the balcony outside. Behind me, I spot Matthew’s notebooks sitting on the nearby table. Janos is one good kick away. I’ll never make it…

I don’t care. I need that info. Leaping off the chair, I scramble back toward the desk, grab the Grayson section, and tear the pages from the three-ring binder.

The door flies open and crashes to the ground. I don’t even bother to look back. In one mad dash, I leap on the chair and dive toward the open window. My pelvis crashes against the windowsill, but it’s enough to get me through. Teetering forward, I tumble outside, blinded by the sun as I hit the floor of the balcony.

“Which way?” Viv asks, slamming the window shut as I climb to my feet.