by Jenna Ryan
Donovan hadn’t intended to goad the deputy into accompanying him, yet thirty seconds after he entered the tunnel system, Orry hastened into view, gun drawn and looking thoroughly out of sorts.
“I hate you,” he announced, and pushed past with a belligerent, “Let’s get this done.”
Donovan noticed that he kept his teeth together, probably so they wouldn’t crack when they chattered.
“I should have my head examined. I don’t like dark, wet places. I also don’t have to prove a thing to you or anyone else.”
Because Orry refused to, Donovan brought up the rear, staying two feet behind him at all times. His gaze skimmed over the rocks above. “I didn’t drag you down here,” he remarked at length. “You could’ve stayed in the ballroom.”
“And after being observed and deemed disposable, wound up getting whacked by whoever planted those traps. No thanks, pal.” He used his gun to draw an arc. “Do you know where we are?”
“Yeah, in a passageway, thirty minutes from the bottom of the stairs we took to get here.”
Thirty minutes stretched to sixty, then to ninety. Donovan lost track of time and direction. As if sensing the last thing, Orry, who’d been uncommonly quiet, twitched a shoulder.
“How many passageways are down here? Feels like a thousand.”
Donovan’s lips curved. “Close to a hundred, anyway.”
“So, armed with that knowledge and having only two flashlights and a couple of guns between us, you figure there’s a snowball’s chance in hell of us, one, finding Isabella’s cousin and or, two, getting out of here before we’re eighty years old?”
He sounded more jumpy than angry, Donovan noted. “I told you, we’re looking for a man.” He watched the water dripping from an overhead rock turn into a thin but steady stream. “The one Haden’s server Lindsay met in the Raven last week.”
“Right. The phantom no one else has seen. Oh, no, sorry, Isabella saw him. You mentioned that little subterranean episode a few days ago, didn’t you?”
“Did I?”
“Someone did,” Orry snapped. “Point is, her seeing him is hardly confirmation that the guy exists, since Ms. Ross also claims to have a missing cousin that no one except her—and I’m including you here—has laid eyes on.”
“Thought you believed her about Katie.”
“I said I was on board with her disappearance. I only believe what I see for myself.” His feet stopped moving. “Or, uh, hear.”
Donovan’s eyes came up.
The acting sheriff spun. “I heard a splash, a distinct splash—as in there’s someone down here with us.”
“Quiet.”
Orry stopped speaking, but his breath rattled in and out.
“Wait here.” As Donovan moved deeper into the tunnel, he heard another splash. When he looked back, he saw Orry slogging along behind him.
“Can I help it if there are puddles everywhere?” the frazzled man demanded.
Letting it go, Donovan projected his senses forward, into the heart of the underground maze.
They’d been creeping downhill for the past half hour. The air was cold and damp as hell. Whoever Isabella had seen, he couldn’t be living here. So what was he doing, coming and going from the manor, giving Katie’s watch to a stranger and shooting at people in the dark?
He put the last question on hold and a hand on Orry’s chest.
Neither of them moved. Water trickling from the overhead rocks provided the only sound.
“Maybe it was a rat,” Orry suggested in a hoarse voice.
But Donovan didn’t think so. He kept his gun up and his eyes on the shadows that shifted in the glow of his flashlight.
Twenty seconds ticked by. Thirty. Finally, there was a subtle slosh. It came from directly ahead.
“Going for it,” Donovan said and took off before Orry could react.
Someone’s feet immediately began to slap on the soggy ground. He heard a curse and a grunt followed by more wet pounding. The feet turned left. So did Donovan. The water got deeper, the ground more treacherous.
Was he gaining? No way to tell. But he had a belt light and sharp eyes, and the satellite passages appeared to be diminishing, as if the system was forming a bottleneck.
Far ahead he spied a ladder. A man ran toward it at full speed.
Gotcha, bastard, Donovan thought and shouted a warning.
The man hesitated, then seemed to panic and leaped for the rungs. His hands caught the sides only to be torn away when Donovan tackled him into the muddy wall.
Bared teeth gleamed within a framework of facial scruff. Dark, curly hair hung in his eyes. He made a gagging sound as he endeavored to pry Donovan’s forearm from his throat.
One fist went for his captor’s ribs; his knee took aim at the groin. Neither connected. Catching his wrist, Donovan swung him around and plowed him face-first into the wall.
“You’re wasting your time, pal,” the man bit out. “My hands are empty, and I’m not on parole.”
“Good to know. What’s your name?”
“Screw you.”
“Figured as much. You know I’m going to haul you in, right?”
“For what? Like I said, empty hands.”
“You attempted to assault a federal officer. Since I didn’t identify myself when I nabbed you, I’ll let that one go.” He loosened his grip as he spoke. The man held for a moment, then twisted around and tried to ram his balled fist into Donovan’s throat. Grinning, Donovan offset the blow and spun him back into the wall.
“Hell,” the man swore. “You did that on purpose.”
“Must’ve lost my grip.” He wrenched the guy’s arm up a little higher. “Okay, friend, now we’re talking attempted assault coupled with trespassing. Anything else you’d like to talk about while we’re here?”
The man’s breath puffed out like an enraged bull. “I don’t want to get mixed up in this.”
“You already are.”
“Not the way you’re thinking.”
“If you know what I’m thinking, then you know what’s going down at the manor. You want to go with it, that’s your choice. But one way or another I’ll get to the truth, and when I do, I’m guessing assault and trespassing won’t be the only charges on your plate.”
“I don’t…ahhh…all right, I hear you. We’re talking deal, right? I say what I know, you let me disappear.”
He gave the guy another shove. “You think?”
“No, but you better, fed, and fast, or you and that pretty rabbit—er, lady, you like so much might not be around much longer.”
Donovan’s muscles clenched. “Five seconds,” he warned.
The man grimaced. “Yeah, okay, you don’t have to tear my arm off. I don’t know who the guy is, but I saw him twice when he didn’t think anyone was around.”
“What did you see him doing?”
“Skulking in that big room next to the front entrance. Once, he was poking through the junk. Second time, he put something down. Or picked it up. I couldn’t tell which, and I wasn’t about to ask.”
“You’re afraid of him.”
The man wheezed out a laugh. “Damn right I am. You would be, too, if you watched him for a while. Guy’s a walking creep show. Maybe not so you’d see in an ordinary day, but when the spotlight’s off, look hard, and you won’t wanna hang around.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“Well, I don’t exactly get out a lot, now, do I?”
“You got out long enough to give a watch to a woman at the Raven.”
“Oh, well, that.”
“Yeah, that.”
“I found the watch—in that big room.”
“Before or after you saw the creep poking around?”
“Before, I think. I wasn’t keeping a journal. Pretty sure it was before, though. I get tired of living like a mole, so sometimes I go up into the house. Took a stroll one night, and there it was, ticking away on the floor. I had a hankering for a beer and a need for food, so I took a ch
ance and went to town. Saw a fox, wanted some company, started to chat.”
“And then?”
He managed to shrug. “Lady wasn’t as willing as I thought.”
“Can you describe the guy in the ballroom?”
“Oh, come on. You think I got that close? He was a guy, and he stuck to the shadows. It isn’t hard to do in that house.”
“If you didn’t see him clearly, what made you think he was a creep?”
“The way he bopped.”
Donovan’s patience was wearing thin. “Define bopped.”
“I can’t explain it better than that. First time I saw him, he bopped his head like he was listening to an iPod. Maybe he was. He bopped, and then he pulled a gun. Bopped and pretended to shoot it. Second time, he had two guns, and he was making a rat-a-tat sound. The time between—”
“You said you only saw him twice,” Donovan interrupted.
“Saw him twice, yeah. Heard him once. That was the time between, when you and your lady came into the tunnels. Man, for a big place, there was a lot of traffic in one small area. Anyway, there I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I heard voices. Yours and the pretty lady’s. I stopped to wait, and bam, bam, bam, a bunch of bullets flew past my head. I plastered myself to the wall, flat as I could. I heard someone running past, going one way. A few seconds later, he was going back the other way, jabbering about getting something that used to be his back. Then you came along. I heard more shots, but damned if I cared who was firing them. I just wanted out. So I ran, and that’s when me and the lady crossed paths. I shoved her aside and beat it into the nearest cave.”
“Did you notice anything about the guy other than he bops, sticks to the shadow and likes to play with guns?”
“Told you before, I mind my own whenever and wherever possible. I see him again, though, I’ll slip him a note that he was shooting at a fed down here.”
Donovan’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, he was shooting at a fed?”
“Mean what I said. Guy was gunning for you that day.”
Hauling the man from the wall, Donovan regarded him in shadowy relief. “Are you saying he wanted to kill me and not Isabella?”
“Look, I can only tell you what I heard, and the clearest thing I heard was him swearing as he thundered past me that he’d get the bastard who was with her if it was the last thing he did.” The man displayed dull teeth. “Whoever he is, it sounds like he’s planning to get that something he wants back over your dead body.”
“WHY WOULD HE DO THIS, Isabella?” Haden repeated again and again. “I’ve known him for years. He’s always wanted status, but you heard Darlene. He’s gone from Jekyll to Hyde a couple times lately.”
“Yes, I know.” And it frightened her.
When she pulled the car keys from her pocket, Haden caught the folded family tree that came out with them before it landed in a puddle. “He’s not a Dark. Pretty sure not, anyway.”
“Haden, insanity isn’t limited to the Dark family.” Isabella slid behind the wheel. “Anyway, Darlene only said she didn’t know what he might be capable of, not that he was a raving lunatic.”
“Guess not.” The big man started to wring the folded paper, thought better of it and smoothed the creases on his bench-sized lap. “Are you sure you can’t reach Donovan?”
“I’ve tried three times.” She handed him her cell. “If he’s gone into the tunnels, the signal won’t get through, but he can’t stay down there forever.”
She refused to visualize the worst-case scenario.
Haden went back to twisting on the family tree. “There’s an ugly bunch of black clouds hanging over Dark Ridge, and lightning out on the water. I saw it flash. Thunder’ll be rolling in with it.”
Around them, the trees had already begun to bend as the wind gained strength.
“It’s gonna get nasty,” he predicted. “Rain on its own’s no problem, but thunderstorms give me heebie-jeebies.” His shoulders hunched. “Did you know that Aaron’s son, the one who died young, was a chemist? Some say he was trying to concoct a cure for what he called right-hemisphere deficiency, and that he tested it out on his brother’s youngest daughter, who was supposed to be touched.”
Isabella regarded the boiling clouds, shivered and turned the wipers on high. “Any success with that?”
“I doubt it. He was only in his early thirties when his niece found him dead. Heart attack in his sleep, the doctor said, but there’s those who don’t believe that.”
“Haden…”
He raised his hands. “I haven’t grown a third eye, Isabella. I’m just saying what is. Plenty of people in town figure my head’s screwed on funny. And George’s family’s been a question mark for decades. Doesn’t mean a thing in the end. George and Darlene aren’t descended from that particular daughter. Her name was Elspeth. She had a daughter herself, but I never heard any mention of insan…ity.” He clutched his seat as a furious gust of wind buffeted the car. “Felt like a giant tried to grab us and missed.”
Isabella avoided a pothole the size of a moon crater, then leaned forward to peer through the windshield. “The gate’s open, and I see Donovan’s truck. I wish I knew if that was good.”
“Won’t know till we get inside, will we?”
She could tell by the way he squared up that inside Darkwood Manor was the last place Haden wanted to go. She didn’t blame him. With thunder making the ground beneath them tremble and lightning splitting an ominous black sky, it was a daunting prospect.
The key was to stay calm and focused. Donovan wouldn’t be taken in easily, and in any case, Darlene thought her partner was afraid of him—at least he was in his Dr. Jekyll mode. As Mr. Hyde, Isabella suspected he might be much bolder.
Oh, great, she reflected in exasperation. Now the nerves that had been zinging inside her since she and Haden left town were really going off. Shoving them back in line, she pushed the front door open and ventured into the gloom.
It was a bit like stepping over some nether-dimensional threshold and into the Twilight Zone. Haden’s fists bunched around the back of her coat. An icy draft blew across her cheeks. Rain pummeled the ancient roof. The wind moaned through cracks high in the rafters.
“He’s here,” Haden croaked in her ear. “I can feel him. He’s watching everything we do.”
With her heart beating in her throat, Isabella shone her flashlight around the cobwebbed entry hall. “I don’t know if I want you to be talking about Darlene’s partner or Aaron Dark’s ghost.”
“One’s no different than the other in my book.”
Reaching sideways, she groped for the wall switch. “Donovan?”
Of course he didn’t answer, but to her overwhelming relief, when she tried it, the feeble overhead light flickered on.
“Oh, well now, that’s better.” Haden loosened his stranglehold long enough to swipe a hand across his forehead. “Thought for a minute my heart was going to punch its way out of my chest.” Massaging his ribs, he handed her the abused family tree, gave her cell phone a shake and tried Donovan’s number again. He had his thumb on the redial button when a low moan emerged from the ballroom.
Isabella’s eyes whipped to the doorway. Her mouth went dry. “That wasn’t the wind,” she whispered.
Haden gave his head a terrified shake.
A sudden, horrifying thought struck, and with Donovan’s name frozen on her lips, she took off across the littered floor.
She saw him in her mind, but couldn’t, wouldn’t, let the image solidify. A trained federal agent would not allow himself to be blindsided by a fool.
When Haden endeavored to catch her, she knocked his hand away and slapped on the overhead light. In the weak glow at the far end of the room, she was just able to make out a shape. Not a crumpled tarp like the first day, but a man in black, lying in a heap on the floor.
Haden finally pinned her arms and held on. “You said there were traps in here. Big ones.”
“I know.” She pried on hi
s fingers. “I’ll watch for them.”
“But,” he began, then heaved out a breath. “Aw, hell, let’s go, then. But carefully. This could be a trick.”
Outside, the wind howled. Something large hit the wall. A tree limb scratched at the window.
The lone lightbulb swayed at the end of a long, frayed cord. The man on the floor moaned again and stirred.
Isabella walked cautiously toward him. Every pulse in her body jumped. Her fist closed on the paper in her hand. Haden had a chokehold on her coat.
The thirty seconds it took them to work their way across the floor felt like thirty minutes.
“Stop, stop,” Haden whispered. “I saw something move near the wall.”
“There’s a cat here.” Isabella kept her eyes on the now motionless man. Was that blood seeping onto the debris around his body?
She crept closer, circled until the side of his face came into view. When it did, she gasped softly and dropped to her knees. Setting the paper down, she crawled forward, touched his neck.
Haden crawled behind her. “Is he alive?”
“I think so.” She struggled to think past the scream in her head. “Barely, though. Call 911.” Leaning closer, she said, “Don’t move, okay? We’re getting help.”
One eye opened to stare at her. An outstretched finger crooked.
“Don’t move,” she said again, but didn’t think he heard her. Was sure of it a moment later when he coughed and blood dribbled from his mouth.
The staring eye took on a glassy sheen. The bent finger stopped moving.
She touched his neck again, then released a shaky breath, and sat back on her heels.
“He’s gone,” she said dully. She knew Haden didn’t hear her. He was shouting at the 911 operator and gesturing wildly at Ridge Road.
“It’s Darlene’s partner,” he yelled into the phone. “She thought he might try to hurt Isabella, but it looks like he’s hurt himself.”
Reaching over, Isabella pried the cell phone from his hand. “It’s too late,” she told the woman. The scream in her head slithered downward. “He’s dead. Gunshot or stab wound, I can’t be sure. Yes, I know him.” She couldn’t drag her gaze from the single, lifeless eye, had to force the words past the lump in her throat. “He lives in Mystic Harbor. He’s a Realtor. He goes by the name Gordie Tallahassee.”