What transpired in a matter of seconds didn’t shock me. Something told me Noah Rexington, once he couldn’t reach me by cellphone, and upon learning I wasn’t at my uncle’s cabin, would come and look for me at Joshua Kane’s place.
What I believed occurred during those few seconds as I lay on the cot: the cabin’s front door opened, and Officers Noah Rexington, Stacey Mertile, and Dean McBride rushed inside. All three separated. Stacey headed to the kitchen. Dean bolted to the bathroom area. And Noah careened into the bedroom where I was kept as Kane’s prisoner.
Noah aimed his police-registered Glock at Kane’s back and yelled, “Freeze, Kane! Don’t make me shoot you! We found your underground rooms of m*******a. And we know you’re selling the stuff.” Noah clicked the safety off his Glock and
