Chapter 3 - The Hazard Extraction
The drive to the neighboring town of Hazard was an exercise in pure survival. The mountain roads were slick with mudslides, and visibility was practically zero, but Daniel kept his foot firmly on the accelerator of his old truck. By 10:45 p.m., he pulled into the driveway of a grand, colonial-style home tucked behind a row of weeping willows—the residence of Howard Vance, the bank manager.
Daniel didn't knock politely. He slammed his fist against the heavy oak door until the porch lights flickered on, revealing a middle-aged man in an expensive silk robe, his face shifting from annoyance to instant alarm as he recognized Daniel.
"Daniel? What on earth are you doing here at this hour?" Vance stammered, blocking the doorway. "If this is about your mother's accounts, those are administrative matters for business hours—"
"The wire transfer from Blackwood Timber to my sister’s account," Daniel interrupted, stepping forward, his sheer physical presence forcing the older man to step back into his foyer. "Cancel it. Now."
Vance forced a condescending laugh, though his eyes darted nervously toward the office phone on his desk. "I don't know what you're talking about. Your sister filed a perfectly legal, notarized power of attorney document on Friday morning. Mrs. Helen signed over the corporate rights to the ridge tract. It's a closed matter, Daniel. The funds are already in escrow."
"The notary was fraudulent, Howard," Daniel said, throwing the plastic evidence bag containing Brian’s phone onto the pristine marble floor. "And your nephew Brian left his digital trail all over the top of the drainage quarry where they dumped my mother three days ago. The state police are tracking his truck right now. When they pull his financial records, your name is going to be right alongside theirs as a co-conspirator to corporate fraud and elder abuse."
Vance’s face went entirely white, the aristocratic arrogance melting off his features in an instant. He looked down at the phone, then back at Daniel’s mud-stained, blood-flecked clothes. He realized, with a terrifying clarity, that he wasn't dealing with a compliant mountain boy anymore. He was dealing with a son who had just pulled his mother out of a grave.
"I... I didn't know they hurt her," Vance whispered, his hands beginning to shake as he reached for his reading glasses. "Brian told me she was resting comfortably at an assisted living facility in Lexington. He said she wanted to liquidate the asset to pay for her medical treatments."
"You didn't check because the timber company was going to pay you a thirty-percent finder's fee for the lumber rights," Daniel hissed, stepping closer until he could smell the expensive brandy on Vance's breath. "Open your laptop, Howard. Freeze the escrow account, pull the transaction logs, and print out the IP address used to authorize that digital signature. If you do it right now, I’ll tell Deputy Miller you cooperated before the state warrant drops."
Vance didn't hesitate. He scrambled to his desk, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop as the digital codes flashed across the screen.
Ten minutes later, the printer in the corner hummed to life, spitting out three pages of absolute, unyielding proof. The digital signature hadn't been authorized at the bank or in Helen's cottage. The tracking code showed the transaction had been completed from an IP address registered to a luxury hotel lounge in downtown Lexington—the exact location where Laura and Brian had been celebrating their sudden wealth while their mother was screaming for help in the dark.
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"It's frozen," Vance said, his voice cracking as he slid the documents across the desk to Daniel. "The money stays in the state pool until a formal investigation is completed. Please, Daniel... tell the sheriff I gave you everything."
Daniel snatched the pages, his face an unreadable mask of iron. "You gave me the ammunition, Howard. Now I'm going to go find the targets."
