Stipulations and Complications

by Becki Willis

  “Sounds just like the app.” He nibbled his lip worriedly. “Don’t you think?”

  “Definitely,” she decided. But she was nervous, just the same.

  “Step off, wait for it to stop, and do it again.”

  “Good idea.”

  They both breathed easier when she stepped onto the slab a second time and triggered sounds identical to those before.

  “So definitely a recording, right?” A trace of doubt lingered in Derron’s voice.

  “Right,” she confirmed.

  “So what now?”

  They looked toward the mouth of the cave’s opening. The entrance was low, wedged into a crevice where two large boulders came together.

  “And we’re absolutely doing this, right?”

  “Yes, Derron, we’re doing this. And you’re going first, because you’re smaller.”

  “And because I’m wearing the proper clothes,” he reminded her, tugging on his jumpsuit.

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, go already!”

  The younger man crouched low and proceeded forward, curling himself into an even smaller profile. He paused only to activate his headlamp before thrusting his leg into the cavern. Before she lost sight of him, Madison scrambled to follow.

  The entrance funneled into a narrow channel that sloped downward. Madison bit back hints of claustrophobia. Before she could rethink their mission, the channel broadened out and she was able to stand at her full height.

  They were in the interior of the cave now, surrounded entirely by rock.

  “What is that?” she hissed, pointing her own headlamp to a coiled object on the floor. “Is that a snake?”

  “No. It looks like a cable of some sort.”

  By silence agreement, they talked in hushed tones, perhaps because they were on a clandestine mission and were afraid of being caught, or perhaps for fear of triggering a landslide.

  She followed the cable’s trail with her eyes. “Look, it strings out along that wall.”

  “Someone has been in here recently,” Derron commented, seeing a few scattered bottles and pieces of trash.

  She spotted matches and empty cans. “Kids?”

  “Maybe.”

  She followed closely behind Derron as they proceeded forward. The floor was uneven in places, demanding they pay close attention to where they stepped. The walls narrowed again and water trickled down along an expanse of jagged rock, making the path particularly treacherous.

  “Lordy, what is that smell?” Madison put her hand to her nose. “It smells like rotten eggs.”

  “Uh, that’s not good.”

  “I know. It stinks.”

  Derron came to a sudden stop in front of her. “Maybe we should go back.”

  She thought he was concerned about her delicate senses. “No, I’ll be fine. I’ve worked in a chicken house and changed more dirty diapers than I care to remember. I’ll be okay.”

  “That’s not it,” Derron hedged. “I know that smell.”

  She nudged him forward, whispering the entire time. “It smells like someone needs to change the cat litter. Is that sewer gas, you think? It smelled a little like this in the tunnel at the Big House, but not nearly as bad.” She choked back a gag. “This is horrible. Almost like ammonia mixed with fertilizer and rotten eggs.” She looked down at her feet. “You don’t think we stepped in it, do you?”

  “I doubt it,” Derron said dryly. He paused again to look back at her. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “Know what?”

  “That’s what a meth lab smells like.”

  ***

  When Brash visited the tunnel at the Big House early that morning, his trained eye noted details Nick and Madison had missed.

  He was quick to spot the ancient torches set into the earthen walls at staggered intervals, a preferred source of light before flashlights.

  He noticed the odd smell that lingered in the enclosed space, more offensive than mold and mildew.

  Brash was particularly focused on the materials used to patch and reinforce specific areas of the tunnel. Sheets of corrugated tin spotted the walls and ceiling, but not all were the same age. Some were old and rusted, while others looked almost new. The newer pieces, he noted, were attached with the type of bolts and screws most often secured by a power drill. It did not take long for Brash to determine that the tunnel had seen recent use.

  But he found the most telling piece of evidence at the mouth of the opening. Squatting to examine the dirt floor beneath his feet, ignoring the pop in his knee from an old football injury, Brash saw where the door scraped against the earth as it slid back and forth. Fresh marks told the story well enough.

  Someone was still using the tunnel.

  ***

  “A meth lab?” She squeaked the words, her steps faltering right along with her bravery.

  “Yeah. Which would explain some of those containers I saw back there. Salt, cans of brake cleaner. That crushed bottle was probably rubbing alcohol.”

  “How do you know these things?” she hissed.

  “How do you not?” he countered.

  He was right, of course. She was the mother of teenage twins. A would-be sleuth-in-the-making. She should know the signs of danger. And there was little else more dangerous than a methamphetamine lab.

  “So what do we do?” she asked nervously.

  “Get the hell out of here.” He was already turning to retrace his steps, but Madison tugged on his arm.

  “Wait. I think we should check it out.”

  “Are you insane?”

  “If we could actually get a peek at it, we would know for certain and we could tell Brash.”

  “I don’t know, dollface. I think we should go…”

  “Come on, just a little further. Just to be sure.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “I have a worse feeling about that meth, actually getting into the hands of people we know and love.” She looked at him with her large hazel eyes, her worry obvious, even in the dim lighting. “I have kids, Derron,” she whispered. “I can’t just ignore this.”

  “We don’t have to. We can go back up and call your boyfriend. He can be here in thirty minutes to shut it down.”

  “You go back, then. I’m going further in,” she said stubbornly.

  “Maddy!” he hissed to her back. “Madison, get back here!”

  She kept walking, picking her way through the dark cavernous area. After a brief hesitation, Derron hurried to catch up with her. “Slow down,” he hissed. “Stop. I think I hear something.”

  They waited for what seemed like hours. He finally shrugged and stepped forward to lead the way.

  “That was probably my racing heart, echoing off the walls,” she whispered nervously.

  “Then why are we doing this?”

  “I just have to.” It was the only explanation she could offer.

  A few more feet and the tunnel curved. A faint light crept into the cavity where they stood, bathing the rocky walls with faint color. If she had not been so frightened, Madison might have noticed the beauty of the stalactites dripping overhead, sparkling with the slightest of illumination.

  Using hand motions, Derron instructed her to turn off her headlamp. Darkness engulfed them. A sense of panic threatened to overtake her, but Derron’s hand was strong and sure upon hers, offering her comfort.

  As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they saw the inky impressions of shadow and light, finger-painting the wall to their left. As quietly as possible, they inched forward, edging their way around the natural curve of the cave’s granite wall.

  A large room opened up before them, awash in bright electrical light. Utility lights swung from the ceiling, strung from thick cable like the one they saw earlier. The haze hanging in the air was thick and putrid, almost tangible. Determined not to gag, Madison pulled her shirt up over her mouth and breathed through the added layer of protection, for all the good it did her. The horrible smell was so intense she c
ould taste it.

  They hung back for a long moment, searching for movement within the cluttered space. With a sick feeling knotting the pit of her stomach, Madison surveyed the sorry scene before her. Two long tables were set up in the far side of the cavern room, littered with ordinary household items. She identified a dozen everyday cleaning products. Another dozen easily found in garages all across America. Bottles, jars, and containers of every shape and size were stuffed in among crockpots, coffee pots and portable butane cylinders. If not for the hazy stench that filled the air and the evil vibes radiating from the entire mess, it could have been someone’s terribly messy house.

  All of this is so easy to obtain, she thought with a sick realization. There’s nothing special about any of it. Anyone could do this, even kids.

  A sob escaped her at the very thought. Derron shot her a sharp look, reminding her of the need to remain silent. Just because they could not see anyone, did not mean they were not there.

  Having seen too much to ever forget, Madison backed slowly away. Her feet were as leaden as her heart as she took a step in retreat.

  It’s not only that you can’t un-hear things, she thought sadly. You can’t un-see them, either.

  Without warning, Derron jerked her arm and twisted her around.

  She glared back at him, only to discover it was not Derron.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Is Mom gone already?” Bethani emerged from her bedroom with a worried expression upon her face.

  Blake looked up from the mixing bowl that doubled as his cereal bowl. “Yeah, she left early.”

  “Oh.”

  Granny Bert picked up on the teen’s unease. “What’s wrong, child?”

  Bethani twisted a lock of blond hair around her finger. “I wanted to apologize to her about last night.”

  “Yeah, what was up with that?” her brother challenged. “I thought you liked Mr. de.”

  “I do. And I already told her I was sorry about that.” Hadn’t she? Bethani played the conversation back in her head, trying to remember if she had actually said the words.

  “What else are you apologizing about?”

  “I was a little harsh on her last night.”

  Blake gave her a wary look. “What did you do?”

  “I laid the guilt on pretty thick,” his twin admitted. “When I was talking to Grandmother Annette, it all made perfect sense. She helped me see things so clearly. But then I started talking to Mom. And I saw the hurt in her eyes…” Bethani slid into the chair, slumping onto the table with dejected gloom. “I think she really likes Mr. de. And it’s wrong, Blake. It’s just flat-out wrong. It’s too soon since Daddy… died.” She had trouble getting the word out.

  “That’s just it, Beth,” her brother pointed out. “He died. Whether we like it or not, it’s not like he’s coming back.”

  “How can you be so cold?”

  “I’m not being cold, Beth. Dad’s gone, but Mom still has a life ahead of her. She deserves to be happy.”

  “Not with another man, she doesn’t!”

  “You’re being childish,” her brother accused.

  “And you’re being blind! Don’t you remember how she treated him before he died? They slept in separate rooms, Blake. Don’t you remember all the fussing and fighting? The way she gave Daddy the cold-shoulder?”

  “I remember how he never came home until late at night. I remember how he missed all my games, and half your recitals. It was Mom who did everything with us.”

  Bethani leapt from her chair. “I can’t believe you’re dissing his memory like this!”

  “I’m not dissing anybody.”

  “You are. You’re talking bad about Daddy, and I won’t stand for it! Do you hear me, Blake? I won’t let you dishonor his memory like this!” She stomped from the room, leaving a confused brother to stare at her retreating back.

  “What was all that about?” he muttered.

  Granny Bert came to place a hand on his shoulder. Even though he pretended to be unconcerned, his body trembled with emotion. “She’s just confused, Blake. She’s having trouble processing her grief, and she’s taking it out on the person she’s closest to. Your mom.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m grieving too, but you don’t see me blaming Mom for everything. And unlike Bethani, I remember how things were between them the last couple of years.” His mouth turned down in a surly pout. “They tried to hide it, but their marriage was falling apart.”

  “And that’s probably what makes this even harder for your sister. Girls see things differently than boys, Blake. They see with their heart, not just their eyes.”

  He simply snorted. As he turned his bowl up and gulped the remaining milk, his eyes fell on the gadget across the table. “What’s that?”

  Granny Bert shrugged. “Something your mom left.”

  Blake stretched out to pull the small device toward him. He fiddled with the buttons until it blinked to life. A series of lights flashed across the top, repeating the sequence every several seconds.

  “What is this?” he wondered, turning it over to read the logo.

  “Beats me. What are all the flashing lights about?”

  With a worried look upon his face, Blake waved the gadget in the air. When he held the device high in the air, the dancing lights began to fade. Each time he lowered it, however, they flashed with persistence.

  “Has that thing gone bonkers?” Granny Bert asked in amusement. “What is it, anyway? Some sort of radio?”

  “No, but it does detect radio waves.” He mouthed the rest of his answer. “It’s a bug detector.”

  “Then why is it flashing like that?” his great-grandmother hissed.

  Blake leaned over and peered beneath the table. Spotting the hidden mic, he sat back up, his eyes troubled. He pointed in silence, indicating the planted bug.

  Still in a whisper, Granny Bert said, “But they were supposed to remove all the cameras and mics!”

  She thought about the many unguarded topics they had discussed at this very table — many of them about the case and entries from the journals, some of them pure speculation and gossip, some of a more personal nature. If someone were up to no good and wanted to eavesdrop on Madison, they had gotten an earful. Even worse, if they meant her harm, they were privy to all her activities and schedules.

  Unease settled into her bones, making her feel every bit of her eighty years. “Well, crap,” Granny Bert groaned. “This can’t be good.”

  ***

  Madison could not see the face of the man gripping her arm, but he was too tall to be her friend. Her wild gaze swung through the shadows, searching for Derron.

  He had been right behind her. Where was he?

  And who was this man?

  Relief flashed through her as she spotted Derron in the semi-darkness, but the feeling died as quickly as it flared. A second man had him shoved against the cavern wall, his arm pressed firmly into Derron’s throat. Even in the shadows, she could see her friend’s face was turning a dangerous shade of scarlet.

  Her immediate concern was for Derron. “Turn him loose! You’re choking him!”

  “Don’t worry about pretty boy,” snarled the man holding her. “You have bigger worries.”

  Madison struggled to free herself, but the man held her in a vice grip. “Be still!” her captor barked. “You’re like a damned octopus,” he complained, trying to contain her flailing arms and legs.

  “Let my friend go!” Madison insisted, punctuating her demand with a jab of her bony elbow.

  “Damn it, be still! And go easy on the dandy,” he added to his friend.

  The second man pulled his arm from Derron’s throat. He sagged against the rock wall, gasping for breath, but at least he was breathing.

  Only then did Madison stop struggling. She transferred her gaze to the man bruising her arm with his harsh grip. He looked vaguely familiar, but with the light to his back, his face was cast in shadows. She judged him at six feet, tall and physically fit. Her
eyes snagged on his silhouette, and the hair that curled just above his shirt collar.

  The intruder from the house!

  Adrenalin pumped through her veins.

  “Who are you?” Madison demanded.

  “I tried to warn you,” he growled. “You were too stupid to listen. Too stupid to get the clues I left.”

  He shoved her roughly forward, keeping behind her as he pushed her into the large room. She coughed from the fetid air that invaded her lungs and stung her eyes. Judging from the shuffled sounds behind her, Derron was half-pushed, half-dragged into the space with her.

  Using a booted foot, the man holding her kicked a plastic chair forward and plopped Madison roughly down upon it. With quick movements, he jerked a piece of excess cable and used it to tie her arms securely behind her back.

  “Ouch! That hurts!” she protested.

  “I’m so sorry, Your Highness. I know how delicate a princess like you can be.” He cinched the cable even tighter. “All better now?” he asked with false concern.

  “Much,” she muttered. She would not give him the satisfaction of complaining again.

  “Tie the other one up, too,” the man told his companion.

  “I need some rope.”

  “Pull the chair over here. Use the cable.”

  “But that’s the electrical cable.”

  “Exactly.” There was evil humor in his voice. “If they jerk too much, they’ll pull down the lights and be left in the dark. Better yet, they might electrocute themselves.”

  His companion chuckled. Madison still could not see either man’s face, but she guessed that the second man was the older of the two.

  The men backed the two chairs together, using the same cable to bind both hostages’ arms behind them. Each tug and twist sent the overhead lights dancing.

  “Why are you doing this? What do you want?” Madison demanded.

  “If you haven’t figured it out by now, you’re even stupider than I thought.” Another sharp tug on the cable, another knot.

  Madison could not help but sneer. “Obviously, you wanted to keep us from finding this cave and your pathetic little operation.”