“George? Who is George?”
Stacy winced.Dad, I hope you had sense enough to disappear after you left the quarry.
“The old guy,” the instructor said. “He told me you sent him over to help. Because he worked in the mines.”
“Clayton or one of the others must have sent him.”
“It doesn’t matter. I think we can use him. But maybe you should think about fewer targets.”
Their voices faded away as they went into another room—probably the office. Stacy waited until she heard a door close, then slipped from the room. She could hurry down the stairs and out of the house, find her dad and then contact her supervisor at the FBI. She would pretend she knew nothing about Agent Anthony and ask the special agent in charge to send a team to arrest Shane and the others.
But the murmur of voices from behind the closed door drew her. Maybe she could learn more about the plans for deploying the explosives. She moved to the door and put her ear to it.
“Even if we lose half our targets, the rest will do enough damage to shut down the resort for at least a year,” Shane said. “That will give me time to file suit to regain control of my family’s land. And it should stop the expansion plans cold. They’ll have to spend so much money repairing infrastructure and their reputation, they won’t have any fight left.”
“You’re right. But the more people who can lead the cops back to us, the less I like it.”
“We can take care of anyone likely to talk,” Shane said. “We took care of that snowboarder, didn’t we? And everyone thinks it was an unfortunate accident.”
Footsteps moved toward the door. Stacy shot toward the stairs. She was halfway down when a voice shouted behind her. “Stop! What do you think you’re doing?”
Then the whistle of a bullet passed her head.
Chapter Fifteen
Stacy yelped as the bullet whizzed past her, then ducked her head and headed for the front door, the closest exit. Footsteps pounded on the stairs behind her, and another bullet thudded into the wall above her right shoulder. She grabbed for the door, but it flew open almost at her touch.
“Hold your fire!” the man who stepped inside shouted. He was a foot taller than her and wide as the doorframe. When he grabbed Stacy by the shoulders and shook her, her teeth chattered together. “Drop the weapon,” he said. “Or I’ll break your neck.”
Shane and the instructor pounded down the stairs. “What’s going on?” Shane asked, looking from Stacy to the group of men at the door.
“We brought you a troublemaker,” said the burly man who held her. “And looks like you have another one.”
“Who have you got there?” Shane asked, looking past Stacy and her captor.
“Says his name’s George. We caught him snooping through boxes in the garage.”
“He’s the miner who helped us at the quarry,” the instructor said.
Stacy forced herself to stand still and not react, though seeing her father like this tore at her. Someone had given him a black eye. Standing there, arms bound behind him and head down, he looked much smaller and older.
“I know you.” Shane moved in closer to George. “You were at the rally at the campground Friday night. With that ski patroller and his girlfriend.” He turned to Stacy. “And you’re the girlfriend.”
She lifted her chin but said nothing. If they searched her, they would find her ID, but she wasn’t going to volunteer the information.
“What were you doing upstairs?” the instructor asked her.
“I was looking for the bathroom,” she said.
The blow snapped her head back and made her see stars. When she looked up, her father was staring at her, eyes full of fury, but he quickly looked down again.
“Who sent you here?” Shane asked.
“I came here looking for my boyfriend, Connor,” she said.
“Why do you think he’s here?”
“He’s really unhappy about the resort’s expansion,” she said. “It was his idea to get involved in the protests. He felt bad about refusing to help with the fireworks and said he changed his mind.”
