Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps squelched in the mud just outside the front door.

I froze, my hand dropping to the hilt of my pocketknife.

“Is someone there?” Sophia breathed.

I didn’t answer.

I stepped quietly toward the door, my back pressed against the rough log wall.

The rusty iron latch began to move.

It jiggled, slowly at first, then violently.

“Wade’s men,” I whispered.

“The file is at eighty-five percent,” Sophia hissed. “I need one more minute.”

A heavy shoulder slammed against the wooden door.

The ancient wood groaned, but the bolt held.

“Open up!” a voice shouted from the rain.

It was Deputy Miller, one of Wade’s loyalists.

“We know you’re in there, Reed!” Miller yelled. “Come out with your hands up!”

I looked at Sophia.

She was frantically typing, trying to force the decryption to finish.

“Almost,” she muttered. “Just ten more seconds.”

Another blow struck the door.

The frame began to splinter near the latch.

I gripped the fire poker in one hand and my knife in the other.

“We have to go out the back,” I whispered.