The Last Warrior

Author’s Notes:

This was my first attempt of introducing a new character with high expectations of evolving this storyline into a future series. To start with, I wanted a protagonist with a dark background, a hidden agenda and guiding spirit that he not only trusts, but one that had once been an important element in his life during his young and impressionable years.  I also wanted someone in his life that had always there when times were tough; only to fade into the background when the smoke cleared; a character that also tugs at his heartstrings now and then. To put the cherry on top, I needed to add something that would set my character apart from others of his similar ranking.

     And so I chose a Native American, Arapahoe Indian, the son of a drunken father, raised by his mother and grandfather on a reservation in southwest Colorado as my leading role: his given name … Jonathan Blue Crow, which he changed to Napoleon Khoric after graduating from college to avoid the Indian stereotyping.

     The story begins after Napoleon has already resigned from the FBI several years earlier and has formed his own private detective agency which primarily deals with cold cases involving missing people, most of whom have been missing for several years. From early on in life, Khoric has been blessed with a gift … the ability to see into the future or to look at something from the past and let it guide his actions going forward. His guiding spirit: his deceased grandfather, often appears when crossroads are encountered or trouble is on the horizon. 

     As for that someone who always seems to be around to provide that helping hand or uses her influence to acquire information he otherwise has no access to, I have created FBI Special Agent Cassandra Ebberhardt.  Khoric and Ebberhardt attended the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia, together. Cassie is now the FBI’s Deputy Director of West Coast Operations in LA.

     This story takes place in an old mining town of Wilderness, Montana.  Khoric lives in Las Aminas, Colorado and has just received a request to locate a missing father … a father, the son admits, he hasn’t seen in over fifty years.

PREVIEW

A young woman Khoric has been searching for was found murdered:

     Unless you’ve lived on a reservation and had to fend for yourself you cannot imagine what my life had been like.  I’ve never wanted people to feel sorry for me.  Grandfather and my mother made sure I got a good education, and because I was a Native American I was able to get a grant to cover most of my college tuition and expenses.  Grandfather died in my freshman year.

After he died I vowed I’d use my gift to help others, and at times I feel he’s right here, still watching over everything I do.

    My mother passed away two years after I got out of college.  I made arrangement for her to be buried next to Grandfather and Grandmother in the Talking Canyon; that’s what I called this place I was now standing in … our tribal burial grounds, and still protected by the Government.

     I’d come back here now and then to tend to their graves and talk to the spirits.  It is in this place where past memories seem to come back like night dreams.

    I can remember the day when I stood before my mother in my graduation cap and gown.  She was living in an assisted living home that had around the clock medical care.  We had to sell grandfather’s house to pay for it, but it was a nice facility.  I never remember seeing her so happy. 

    The sun was shining brightly over the red rim-rock, changing the red to gold.    Shadow and I walked down the sandy path I’d trodden many times in the past.  Grandfather’s presence was very strong this morning.

     Every time we came to visit with my mother and Grandparents, Shadow seemed to know it was a sacred place and as a rule, stood by my side, not straying more than a few feet.  He seemed to sense the bodies buried here and the reverence that was demanded.

    My grandmother had died fifteen years before Grandfather, he’d told me.  I could tell he missed her a lot, although he talked about her little. He was a wise man and those who knew him listened to his words.  If it wasn’t for him I probably wouldn’t be here now.

      As we stood there; Grandfather and Grandmother to my left, my mother to my right, Shadow stood close to my right side. I closed my eyes and said a prayer of thanks for letting us enter. 

    I knelt down on the sand and began to sing a chant taught to me when I was barely old enough to talk.  It has no name.  It’s tells the story of an injured bluebird found by a little Indian boy.  The boy had taken it back to their lodge where his mother helped him nurse it back to health and then, together, they went back to where the bird was found and released it.  From a cottonwood tree, near a small creek flowing through a flower filled meadow, the bird taught them his song. Every day the little boy would sing the song to his mother until the day she died.  My mother used to sing that song … whenever she saw I was scared.

    The song always seemed to awaken the spirits, and as always, if something was bothering me, Grandfather seemed to know what it was. The voice came while my eyes were still closed.  Grandfather was standing in front of me.  He looked disappointed, maybe angry.

    “I feel your anger,” he said to me, as I remained kneeling before him. 

    “Then you know why I have come here?” I replied reverently, my eyes still closed.

    “You feel you have failed … that you no longer possess the gift.”

    “I trusted others to do the right thing … it were they who failed, but it is an innocent young woman who I let die.  I could’ve saved her Grandfather.”

    “You must not let the actions of others determine your own.  The spirits took the woman from this world.  It was meant to be.”

    “How can that be? Why was she taken and not the coward that held her captive?  Where is the justice in that?”

    “Do not question the spirits. Through you, her death will help save other lives in the many seasons to come. I have taught you well.  Do not forget others need you now.  You must not let your gift fall to the winds.  You must remain vigil.  A new trial awaits you.”

    “A new trial?” I questioned.

    “Your greatest challenge … it will change your life path.”

    This came as a surprise.  Never before had Grandfather given me even the slightest hint about my next case.  It was something I’d always decided on my own.

    “When will this new trial come?  Can you tell me more?”

    “Look to the north.  Seek out what once was.  It will come to you.”

    Grandfather’s image faded as I opened my eyes. I looked up when the scream of a golden eagle broke the silence.  A feather loosened from its tail and drifted to the ground in front of me. I picked it up and turned my face to the north.  A sharp chill sent a shiver down my spine.  I held the feather over my head and thanked the spirits for providing me with a symbol of strength … a strength Grandfather had just reinforced.  Now, all I had to do was choose what came next. 

                                                            ******

Location: The old mining town of Wilderness Montana.

Crothers Peabody sat his empty beer can on the table and popped the top on another.  “I got something I want to show you.  It might be nothing, but I want your opinion, JD.”

    “Sure.” JD Chase emptied his beer and followed Peabody into his den.

    “Have a seat.” Peabody pulled out a chair next to his desk.  Taking his own seat behind the desk he opened the top drawer and removed the canvas sack, handing it to JD.

    “What’s this?” Pulling open the drawstrings Chase thought at first the sack was empty, but then two small crystals dropped into his open hand.

    “That’s the big question.” Peabody paused as he watched Chase examine the crystals in the light.  “If I had to guess, which for now is what I’m doing, I’d say they’re diamonds.”

    “Diamonds!” Chase blurted, his face lined with shock.

    “Just look at them, JD.  Even in their rough state they sparkle like a star when the light hits them.  I’ve never seen a quartz crystal do that.”

    “But I thought you could only find diamonds in Africa.”

    “No, they’ve been discovered all over the world, but never in the U.S. Rockies.”

    Chase continued to examine the gems, turning them over in his fingers.  “You need to get someone up here to look at these, and if they are diamonds, get an appraisal.”

    “I know.  I was hoping maybe you could take care of that for me.”

    “Me, I don’t know anything about diamonds … who the hell would I go to?”

    “Go to one of the jewelry shops in town.  They can at least tell you if they’re for real and give you information on getting them appraised.”

    Chased dropped the crystals into the sack and drew the strings tight.  “I guess I could do that.  You sure you just don’t want me to bring someone up here to check them out and show them where you found them?”

    “Not just yet.  If these are the real McCoy’s I don’t want anyone knowing where they came from.  If word got out they came from my mine, this town will be overrun with every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a rock pick and a shovel.”

    “Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

    “Trust me on this.  Take those and see what you can find out.  If I’m right, then we’ll find ourselves a good lawyer to have my mineral rights updated.  It’s been a long time … they may still be under my father’s name.”

     “That could be a problem. You definitely got to make sure everything’s legal.  I take it no one else knows about this?” Chase questioned.

     “Hell no.  No one’s spoken to me in years, except Arin Kidd and a couple of the ranchers and miners I know around here,” Crothers grumbled and leaned back in his chair.    

     “Well then, I’ll see what I can find out for you,” he promised.  “I’ll go into Great Falls and do some checking and see if I can find someone who can tell me if these things are for real.  God, if they are you’ll be able to buy this whole town and start your own resort.”

     “Nah, I don’t want to go through all that, but what I’d like to do is help some of the locals get a new start here in town, and maybe get the bank up and running again.  The town’s going to need one.”

     “You were never a banker yourself, though … right?”

     “No, and I don’t intend to become one now, but I’d like to see about hiring a manager to get this place opened back up.

    “If these babies are diamonds you’re going to need a place to keep all your money in.” Chase laughed.  “Boy, wouldn’t that be something!”

    Peabody suddenly seemed sullen, as if a past memory had resurfaced in his mind.  “When I think of all the years my dad spent in this mine, working late through the night and then working in the bank during the day, I …”

    “You still wonder whatever happened to him?”

    “Yeah, from time to time; more so lately it seems.  I keep thinking how it’d be nice for him to be here and see this town come back to life.   It’s been more than fifty years now; for all I know he’s probably dead by now.”

    “He’d be what … about eighty.”

    “Yeah, this year.”

    “Good chance he’s still alive, then.” Chase saw a faraway look in his friend’s eyes; no doubt thinking of the man he’d barely known.

                                                            ******

The last building on the outskirts of town was the Wilderness Dance Hall and Saloon.  From that point the street became a rutted dirt road that wound its way up Cascade Mountain to the construction site where the new resort was being built. Peabody stopped in the middle of the street and looked back at the small town trying hard to visualize what it looked like when he was growing up.  Then he turned his attention to the old saloon.  JD said country singer Curtiss Edwards was going to buy the place … reopen its doors.  His band was going to play there to the crowds they hoped would come down from the resort on the mountain. 

    It took about thirty minutes to hike up to the recently constructed gates at the construction site.  Large signs warning would-be trespassers to keep out were posted on both gates.  Inside a guard shack two heavily armed security guards were talking with one of the construction workers.  It looked more like the entry to a military installation than a construction site.

    Peabody waved and the guard waved back, not saying anything.  It wasn’t unusual for a couple of the old timers to walk up and have a look see before going back to their holes in the ground. Little conversation ever took place between any of them, except in passing or running into each other at Arin Kidd’s mercantile.

    The coming summer would bring a promise of change.  The lonesome town of Wilderness was about to emerge from its chrysalis, the past peeling away to reveal what promised to be a bright future. The first year would be one of reconstruction, adding a new face to the aging, and tearing down the unsalvageable to make room for the new. By the following year most of the town would be resurrected with a new look and a younger populace.  Tourist, skiers, bikers and hikers, all would be coming to enjoy what the resort and nature had to offer.  Now, more than ever, as he stared at all the construction equipment, he wanted to be a part of it.

      For the first time in many years Crothers Peabody let his mind wander back to a time when his father was still alive. Being left behind at the age of four, he remembered little, only the images he’d seen in photos was all he had.  The Larson’s, is adopted family and his mother’s best friends, had done their best to keep Amos Peabody’s memory alive, and often told Crothers stories about his mother and father and his sister Amanda. But it was like they were characters in a book, not real.

    He thought about the deed to his mine and the certificate of mineral rights Arin had given to him.  Amos Peabody was still the legal owner, if he was still alive. Suddenly, the reality of it all was beginning to sink in.  If his father was dead, he could lose everything he had if someone filed a claim ahead of him and took over the mine. With all the contractors making offers on the town property, the discovery of the diamonds made it all the more urgent he conduct a search to find his father. Peabody still looked a little nervous and it was understandable.  From what I knew about the diamond business I was possibly looking at a multi-millionaire … or a dead man.

                                                            ******

During excavation at the construction site an underground cavern is exposed:

    No one saw him enter.  Once Jocko Zimmerman’s feet hit the cavern floor he turned on his flashlight and began following the small stream up the shallow grade. 

    He didn’t know what he expected to find, but he hoped to find signs of gold.  He’d read all the history about the once prosperous mining town and had thought about doing some exploratory mining in some of the old mines in the area.  However, a stringent work schedule had precluded such activities for the time being. 

    When he reached the site where he and Mike Evans had come to a dead end, and discovered the spring seeping through the crevasse in the wall, he began to survey the surrounding confines. At first it seemed there was no way to proceed any further. The walls were worn smooth from millions of years of water erosion that had carved out the cavern through the limestone. 

    Suddenly, a low moaning sound echoed through the cavern, like someone was in excruciating pain some distance away.  A sudden draft of air cooled his face. He froze in place, cocking his head in order to pinpoint the location of the sound. It came again, lasting longer this time, causing the sweat on his forehead to evaporate, sending a chill through his body. To his left, near the top of a rock heap formed by a cave-in several years before, a ghost-like wisp of dust appeared and dissipated just as quickly.  Elevating his light to the top of the rock pile Zimmerman could see a small opening.  He could hear water dripping.

    Curiosity overrode caution as he carefully began working his way up the old slide.  At the top, on his hands and knees, he shined his light into the void.  The sound that he’d heard had been the wind funneling through the opening.  The opening was barely wide enough for a small framed man of his size to squeeze through on his hands and knees. He could feel the cool moist air on his face. 

    Throwing caution to the wind, Zimmerman got down on all fours and crawled into the opening, having to duck his head where a large rock protruded from the ceiling above his head, forcing him to crawl the last few feet on his belly.  At the end he found himself staring down into an immense cavern whose ceiling soared to well over fifty feet above his head and in some spots widened to well over two hundred feet. The cavern floor spread out ten feet below where he crouched.  To his right, a large pond the size of an Olympic pool reflected his light onto the rock walls, creating ghostlike images that seemed to dance around him.   

    Cautiously, but curiously, he climbed down to the cavern floor. It didn’t appear there was an end to it. The floor was now strewn with large rocks and boulders that had broken free from the towering walls around him. There was a strange coolness in the damp air.  He could smell the melt-water pool.  Getting down on his hands and knees once more he scooped the ice cold water in his hands and drank from it.  It was as pure as any water he’d ever consumed.

     He adjusted his hard hat and walked over to the base of the rock pile he’d just climbed down from and looked up. The descent had been tricky; some of the rocks were loosely lodged together. Getting back up would be even more difficult.

    Before him, in the beam of his flashlight, the shadows took on ominous formations, like the entrance to an Egyptian tomb.  A network of carefully woven, dust covered spider webs hung from the rocks overhead.  When caught in the light one of the arachnids backed itself into a corner, taking on a defensive posture in an attempt the thwart off the intruder.  It was almost the size of his hand and covered with reddish brown, wiry hair, long black fangs exposed for protection.  Zimmerman carefully ducked beneath the web, as his light seemed to keep the angry spider at bay. 

    The jagged rocks and dusty crevasses ahead were consumed by the darkness. In several places water seeped down the walls, like tears flowing from a dinosaur’s eyes, before flowing into the crystalline pool and creating a rainbow of ripples in his light, which in turn, appeared to make the ghostly reflections on the walls come to life. 

    A ledge to his left, almost four feet wide, appeared to be solid rock, although in places water pooled in small depressions.  Below the ledge the floor dropped off into the darkness. His light failed to reach the bottom.

    A few more yards and the cavern began to close in around him.  The ceiling was now less than twenty feet over his head and the walls had closed in to less than ten yards.  He spotted a small alcove carved out of the rock ahead to his right, across the stream.  Something lying on the ground caught his eye, it looked like faded denim.  At the same time a sudden cold chill shot up his spine, like a blast of arctic air, enough to make him shiver.  He took it as a warning that something wasn’t quite right.

    Ten feet closer and the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.  At his feet lay the skeletal remains of three bodies.

    “Jesus Christ!” he gasped, leaping backwards, tripping as his heel caught on a small rock. 

    He hit the ground and in a panic crab-walk scurried away from the bodies. Not only could he feel his heart racing, he could hear it thundering in his head.  It took several deep breaths to regain a calm reserve and quell the shaking in his legs as he rose to his feet. 

    As he stared at the bodies he soon realized they’d been lying there for a long time; perhaps decades.  Their remains appeared mummified; the bones partially exposed through the ragged remains of their clothing and dried wrinkled skin.  Their boots had separated the feet from their legs.  As his light moved up their yellowed contorted torsos it came as another shock; all three bodies appeared to be headless.  A sickening faintness washed over his perspiring face and nausea churned his stomach.

    An internal alarm, like that of a firehouse siren, was going off inside his head. Taking another step backwards, he was about to turn and head back to the lower caverns when a shadow in his light moved from behind him. 

    The excruciating pain lasted a millisecond before the darkness overtook him and his lifeless body fell to the ground.  His empty hard hat rolled into the stream and floated away as water lapped at his twitching fingertips.  His flashlight rolled and came to a rest against his leg.

                                                            ******

Opening her briefcase Cassie took out a folder and removed the original composite photo she’d prepared for Crothers Peabody.  Getting up, she walked over and handed it to him, and then came back to sit next to me. As Peabody held the photo I could see his eyes begin to water.

    “I was so young when my father left.   I never really remembered anything about the way he looked.  Now … I feel like I’m seeing him for the first time.”

    “I can see now there’s a lot of family resemblance,” Cassie consoled the old man. 

    “Yes, he looks a lot like the pictures I’ve seen of my grandfather.”

    “And you,” Cassie smiled. “A lot like you, as a matter of fact.”

    “Can I keep this?”

    “Sure, I’ve got copies.  I also sent a copy to your email.”

    Peabody looked at me. “I hope I’m doing the right thing here.  It’s been more than fifty years. I know he could be dead, but if he’s not …”

    “You’ve got a right to know … and from what you told me about your property issues, you need to,” I told him frankly. 

    “Yes, that’s of major importance right now, considering …” Peabody paused, realizing I probably hadn’t told Cassie about the discovery of the diamonds in his mine. “On that note, I take it you haven’t told Cassandra about my little find.”  A grin came to his face.

    “No, I haven’t.”

    “Good, I knew you were a man of your word.” Peabody got up slowly, his movements stiff due to working in his mine all these years, I suspected.  He walked over to his desk and removed the small sack of diamonds.  Cassie gave me a curious look, sensing she was about to learn more about this case than I had originally acknowledged when I first told her about Peabody’s predicament. Next, he walked over and handed the sack to Cassie.

    “What’s this?” Cassie brow rose with curiosity.

    “Being a woman, I would expect you’ll know once you open that sack.” Peabody teased, as he walked back to his chair and took his seat.  I could see the grin still on his face, like a father waiting for his daughter to open her birthday present.

    Cassie gently pried the drawstrings apart and peeked into the sack, but could see nothing.  Slowly turning it upside down she carefully dumped the contents into her hand.  I initially suspected she had no idea what lay in her open palm.

    The look on her faced confirmed I was wrong. “Oh my God!” She turned one over with her finger.  “Where did you get these?”

    Peabody looked as surprised as I was. “Out of my mine … you know what they are?”

    Picking one of the gems up, Cassie held it up to the light.  “I’m no expert, but they look like rough diamonds to me.”

    “I take it you know something about diamonds, then?”

     I removed one from her open palm, and like I had the first time, gave it a close look. 

     “Where did you learn about rough diamonds?” I asked inquisitively.

     “I’ve had to deal with illegal diamond sales and black market dealings.  The diamond business is a rough playground. There are only a few legitimate diamond dealers in the world and they regulate how many diamonds are released to the open market each year.  Most people don’t realize diamonds are not as rare as some think.  Over ninety percent are being held in reserve to keep the price up.  If all the diamonds in the world were released at the same time market values would plummet.” Cassie held one up to the light. “A rough guess, but this one should weigh close to twenty carets. A couple of these might be close to thirty or thirty-five.” Cassie gave me an impish grin.  “Does this give you any ideas?” she said to me as she held one up against her left ring finger.

    I tried to laugh it off, but the damage was done.  I looked over at Peabody.  “Just a little thing we like to tease each other about.”

    Peabody took the hint, but gave Cassie a wink.  “Maybe I can come up with something special you might like … should the time ever come.”

    “No, no, I was just thinking out loud, but I appreciate the gesture.” Cassie’s cheeks blushed.

“These have got to be worth a fortune, Crothers.” Cassie leaned forward and handed the sack back to Peabody.

    “That’s what we’re hoping.  I want to use the profits to help rebuild this town.”

    “I don’t want to burst your bubble,” Cassie interjected, “but if this discovery is as great as you think it might be you’re definitely going to need a good lawyer and an agent, not to mention security for the mine.  This won’t remain a secret very long, no matter how hard you try to keep it quiet.  Once word gets out about these, this town will be flooded with investors looking to buy up as much of the surrounding property as they can.”

    “Do you really think that will happen … investors turning this place back into a mining town?” I could hear the concern in his voice.

    “I guess that depends on the state,” she explained further. “I’m sure they have strict regulations on mining and the Environment Protection Agency is sure to have a say; all the more reason to get a couple of good lawyers. It wouldn’t hurt to have a geologist check out your mine as well.”

    “Now I’m glad you brought her in on this, Napoleon.” Peabody walked over and put the sack of diamonds back in his desk drawer. 

    “I told you she’d come in handy … and she’s working for free,” I grinned.

                                                            ******

Isaiah Pratt sat on the front porch of the old cabin staring out over the dark valley below, a cup of hot coffee clasped between his trembling hands.  On a small wooden table next to his chair sat an orange plastic bottle of pills.  The subscription called for the consumption of one pill every twelve hours.  He’d just taken his evening dose.

    He was fighting back the anger that had been building within ever since the demolition crew at the construction site had unearthed an entrance to the maze of caverns he’d been exploring.  Now, others were threatening to discover what had taken him months of research to locate.

    That same anger had an adverse effect on his medication.  Instead on controlling the pain, it only seemed to intensify it somehow.  It was this pain that caused him to kill that man who’d come too close to discovering a hidden passage that led to an old Indian cave deep in the heart of the mountain … the once hidden village where his ancestors had fought their last battle.

    Pratt could remember little of his past life.  Following the crash of his F-14 Tomcat into the Mediterranean ten years ago, the damage done to his brain had caused a tumor to form, which now blocked all access to his library of memories.  The doctors at Walter Reed had all formed the same diagnosis: the tumor was inoperable and still growing.  At best, he could expect to live three more years, providing he took his medication as directed and kept his stress level down.  In the final years, however, the pain would most likely become unbearable and hospitalization would be required. Now, that third year had arrived.

    During the two years following the tragic crash his mother Paula had been at his side the whole time, telling him stories about his forgotten years, hoping to open a hidden backdoor into his mind.  Pratt’s father had been killed in Vietnam in 1961, suffering a fatal crash of his F-4 Fathom.  It was the memory of his father that had provided the incentive for Isaiah to become a naval aviator.  He’d received the recommendation of two prominent naval officers and one state senator, who’d flown with his father, allowing him to attend the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland.

     Paris ‘Dark Star’, Isaiah’s grandmother, was a Native American; a member of the Blackfoot tribe in northern Montana.  Three years ago Dark Star died, leaving Paula a ragged edged journal and a picture of her and her husband for him to remember.  Within the journal the written history of an ancient tribe of Blackfoot, said to have once been forced to live within the confines of the mountains to avoid being captured by the white soldiers, was transcribed. According to legend a ceremonial chamber existed within a maze of caverns where ancient chiefs and distinguished warriors came to prepare for their last days.  It was said a blue crystal with medicinal powers was given to the dying by a tribal elder to take away the pain of death.

    After reading her journal and many hours roaming the foothills Pratt eventually stumbled upon the location of the cavern entrance. The location of the ceremonial chamber, however, had still eluded him.  Within the journal a folded map, yellowed with age, contained the key to deciphering the six symbols known to exist within the maze, etched into the stone walls, pointing the way to the burial grounds. Time and neglect, however, had taken its toll.   Now, most of the instructions were unreadable.   

     Time was turning into his enemy. The pain at times so severe it totally disabled him to a point where he couldn’t walk or stand.  His final days were near and the relief from the pain of death was somewhere within the mountain.  He wanted to die within the chamber of the spirits, like the chiefs and brave warriors of his ancestral past.

    But others had come.  They’d found the body of the man he’d killed and the remains of the three headless miners that had been killed by his grandfather, Stone Water, the tribal Shaman and once keeper of the ceremonial chamber.  As it had been now, the three men, on three separate occasions, had discovered the Indian cave, and fearing they’d soon discover the ceremonial chamber, Stone Water killed them and removed their heads, hiding them away in the maze of caverns deep within the bowels of the mountain. Beheading meant the man’s sole could not enter the next life, therefore keeping the location of the ceremonial cave a secret from the white man.

    As the night chill brought a shiver to his body, Pratt rose and walked back into the cabin.  There he began to prepare for his last few days, hiding his truck nearby behind a large outcropping of rocks.  He’d packed his meager belongings, planning to spend the rest of his days within the caverns, hidden away from the authorities. There were only six pills left in the bottle … three days. Then the pain would overtake him, unless he could find the ceremonial chamber and hold the blue crystal.

So, Khoric and Ebberhardt begin their search for Crothers Peabody’s father Amos. On Cascade Mountain the search for the murderer Isaiah Pratt is in full swing, during which time Crothers and his friends are trapped in his mine after a cave-in. During the process of their rescue Cassie and Napoleon are drawn into chilling manhunt that threatens the future of the town of Wilderness, Montana, as well as their own lives. The ending will have you on the edge of your seat.