Chapter 59 - The Iron Safe at Pigeon River
Ellis and I both jumped at the sound.
The house had been cleared by the police. The phone lines were supposed to have been disconnected by the federal marshals.
The old rotary phone rang a second time. Then a third.
Ellis approached the desk, his hand hovering near his holster. He lifted the heavy black receiver and pressed it to his ear.
"Who is this?" he demanded.
He listened for several seconds, his jaw tightening, his expression shifting from suspicion to deep concern. He extended the receiver toward me.
"It’s Sheriff Miller from Hastings," Ellis said quietly. "He’s at the old mill site on the Pigeon."
I took the receiver with trembling fingers. "Sheriff Miller?"
"Abigail," the old lawman’s voice crackled through the static-filled line. "I’m glad Ellis caught you at the house. You need to come down to the mill immediately."
"What happened? Did Raymond’s men try something?"
"No," Miller replied, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "The federal engineers were inspecting the sluice gates beneath the old saw pit about an hour ago. They found an iron vault embedded in the bedrock behind the water wheel. It was sealed with hydraulic cement back in 1965."
"An iron vault?"
"Yes, ma'am. And there's a brass plaque bolted to the front of it. It doesn't have Raymond's name on it. It says: *Property of Abigail Vance — To be opened on the day she claims her name.*"
A shiver traveled down my spine. Sanford had anticipated every possible contingency. He had not only secured the legal documents; he had hidden the physical restitution where no accountant or crooked federal agent could ever reach it.
"We’re on our way, Sheriff," I said.
Two hours later, our truck pulled into the overgrown gravel clearing of the abandoned Pigeon River sawmill. The air smelled of wet pine and roaring river water as the swollen current rushed through the wooden bypass flumes.
Sheriff Miller was waiting by the entrance to the stone sub-basement, flanked by two Michigan State Police investigators.
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"Down here, Abigail," the sheriff said, lifting a heavy industrial lantern.
We descended the slick wooden steps into the cavernous chamber beneath the mill. The sound of the rushing river reverberated through the stone walls like thunder. There, partially excavated from a wall of ancient limestone, was an impenetrable safe door made of solid cast steel.
