by CJ Lyons
The girl's voice shredded with pain. Jenna pulled the earbuds out, unable—unwilling—to listen further. She curled her arms around herself, pretending she was cold. Bob cranked up the heat and adjusted the vents to blow in her direction. Didn't help the real reason why her insides trembled.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. Fine."
The gravel road wound into the woods, ending in a snow-covered clearing. Not much snow, not yet, but enough to create a pristine carpet of white over the fallen leaves. That, along with the flurries swooshing through the crisp midday air and the hushed noise, made Jenna feel as if they'd been magically transported inside one of the snow globes her grandmother collected.
As they sat in the car, the engine humming, she half expected a girl's palm to crash down on top of them and shake them, turning everything upside down.
"Where's the entrance?" she asked.
"Sealed off with concrete and stone." He pointed to the bare rock at the base of the mountain. If she squinted through the snowflakes melting against the windshield, she could make out a difference in color. As if someone sealed a crack with putty and tried to make it blend in. "Didn't want anyone to wander in. Not again."
She swallowed hard. Stared at the unnatural pale rock. The girl's voice echoed inside her head. "I need to see inside. Is there another way in?"
He turned to give her a long, hard look. "After hearing that, you still want to go inside?"
Jenna nodded despite the shiver that shook her.
Without a word, Bob put the cruiser in drive, did a neat three point turn, and they left. Jenna had the sudden urge to cross herself like she would when leaving Mass. Been a long time since she'd been, not since her grandfather died. But her fingers lifted in the familiar movement with a primal reflex.
She watched Bob as they drove. He handled the cruiser easily, attending to the radio and computer terminal sitting between them as much as to the road. A single line creased his forehead and she wondered why he'd interrupt his day to take her on a tour of a crime scene four years old.
Sure, he smiled like he was attracted to her. Jenna expected that of men. But he had his own agenda.
"You think Adam might be there? Inside Echo Cavern?" she asked.
More trees, more dirt roads, then a two lane paved road—she wasn't sure if it was the same one they left town on, there were no signs—then another dirt road. This one was flat, gently curving behind a single story red brick school, into a forest, and coming out the other side with cornfields spreading out to the left and the foot of the mountain on their right.
Finally he answered. "Doubt it. Not after what happened inside there. But if you're looking, I'd like to be the one to find him. Make sure he's okay."
She shrugged. What was with this Caine kid that both Lucy and Bob felt the need to protect him? Kid was a fugitive from the law, plain and simple. "Fine with me. But if he's my guy, he's federal property."
He focused on the road, not answering.
A well-maintained wooden fence marked the property line until the road dead-ended at a stone barn. The barn backed up to the mountain, evergreens as tall as its hayloft on both sides, a paddock fenced in beyond the main doors. A small frame house, not dilapidated but obviously not occupied, stood a hundred feet away.
"Stolfultz used to keep his dairy cows here. Even used the caverns for storage—have for generations. Better than a refrigerator since the temperature is constant and you never worry about power running out. But now." Bob shrugged. "No one comes out here now. Not even the cows."
"How far are we from the first entrance?"
"By road, around three miles. But only about half a mile by way of a crow flying." He unfolded a map across the computer console between them.
"See how the river forces the mountain to twist and fold in on itself? The cavern beneath the mountain makes for a short cut. Folks said the Shamokin Indians actually used Echo Cavern that way—could go from one side of the mountain to the other no matter the weather and in a quarter of the time. Sneak up on their enemies. Or escape them, I guess. Just vanish into the mountain and no one who didn't know the way could follow."
Jenna glanced out the window. Looked like something out of a fairytale. Rounded hay bales dusted with snow. Whitewashed barn and house against the dark green of the forest and mountain beyond. Nothing to be frightened of.
Bob folded his map neatly, grabbed his Stetson, and got out of the car. He opened the trunk, removed two heavy-duty flashlights then returned to her door. "Sure about this?"
She'd never been inside a cave before. Never even been inside a barn. Chiding herself for her sudden anxiety—she was a kickass federal agent, damnit!—she got out of the car and took one of the lights. "Aren't any cows in there, are there?"
"No ma'am. They're out in the pasture or inside the new barn across the way." He nodded with his chin.
Jenna scoured the landscape. Hay bales and empty fields with the occasional recalcitrant dead cornstalk as far as she could see. Then she made out movement on the horizon. A few black dots milling on a cleared hill, the mountain looming up above them. The mountains and trees made one feel penned in. Kind of like the canyons around L.A. Except less civilized.
Bob slid the barn door open along its rails. The sweet scent of hay and clover made Jenna sniff twice. Then she caught the sour smell of cow dung.
"Watch where you step," he cautioned, his footsteps stirring stray pieces of hay on the wood plank flooring. Stalls lined the walls. Lonely and gloomy in the shadows cast by their lights. Bob led her down the center aisle then turned past a room filled with steel milk cans and other equipment. They came to a large padlocked wrought iron gate. Beyond the gate was a black silence that made the dim light of the barn feel as cheerful as walking on the moon.
Lanterns hung on pegs outside the gates. Bob handed her his flashlight as he removed two, lit them, and then hung them from hooks dangling down from the rafters above. The oily sharp scent of kerosene mingled with the other smells.
"Aren't they worried about fire?" she asked.
"Amish," he said with a shrug. As if the word explained everything.
He removed a key chain from his equipment belt and unlocked the large padlock securing the gate. "Never used to lock anything around here," he muttered. He swung the gate open on well-oiled hinges bolted into a wall Jenna realized was solid rock. He lit two more lanterns. "Wait here."
He vanished into the shadows. The entrance to the cavern was lined with shelves, a few still holding milk cans, others smaller, designed for cheese and other perishables. The air was cool, like opening a refrigerator door on a hot summer day, and drier than she'd imagined.
Which didn't explain the trickle of sweat shivering down her spine as she stepped past the gate. Dim light revealed the path Bob had taken. Her grip on the two large flashlights grew slippery but she continued into the cavern, stopping at the place where he'd vanished, face to face with a wall of solid rock. She craned her head up. The ceiling was ten feet high here, also solid rock.
The weight of the mountain pressed down on her, making her work for each breath. She transferred one light into the crook of her arm and slid her fingers down the rough rock face. They came away damp even though the rock looked dry.
"Limestone," Bob came up behind her, making her jump. He took his flashlight back. "That's why you get those stalactites and stalagmites—can't ever remember which is which—but the ones hanging down will drip stuff that looks like milk but it's really rock eaten up by acid in the water."
He was so damn comfortable in here. As if there weren't tons of rock overhead ready to bury them forever. "Didn't come for a science lesson," she snapped. "Where's the crime scene?"
He pushed his hat up with the tip of his finger, then gestured down the way he had come. "Right this way."
She followed him a few steps. He'd hung the two lanterns about twenty feet apart but after that was total darkness. Hurrying to catch up with him, she touched his elbow
. "Sorry about that. Never been inside a cave before. Do we need to worry about bats? They carry rabies, right?"
He made a clucking noise but she couldn't see his face in the dark. "No bats anymore. The white nose got most of them. But, yep, they do carry rabies. My kid brother had to get shots when he found one in his bedroom. Woke up and the damn thing was perched on his nightstand eyeing him like he was a piece of leftover pizza. Mom freaked out for sure."
His voice echoed. Jenna swung her flashlight up and could no longer make out the ceiling, just blackness spiraling over head, broken by the occasional glint from a stalactite hanging down. She searched the darkness in awe. Bob added his light to hers.
"Pretty neat, isn't it? And all created without the aid of man, science, or any of our gadgets." His voice hushed as if in church. He took her hand. "Stay close. There are drop offs and you'd never see them until too late."
They'd never found any of the bodies, she remembered with a shudder. Hadn't quite believed it until now, looking up into the belly of the mountain. She let him keep her hand. Just wished it wasn't so clammy with sweat.
Bob guided them through the darkness. Jenna was glad he was there. Even with the powerful flashlights designed for search and rescue operations, she'd never find her way in or out again.
Suddenly he stopped. "Okay. This is the other side of the first entrance. The way Lucy and the Caine boy came."
They'd only come a half a mile? Felt like ten times as far.
He led her through a narrow, high- ceilinged passage that opened into a larger cavern. She flashed her light about. Metal rings had been bolted into the walls and floors at various places. The dark stain that was Lucy's blood still marred the pale limestone rock only a few feet to the right of where Jenna stood. The ceiling sloped up from knee level to soaring out of sight. The opposite side of the cavern was wide-open, sheer blackness her high intensity light couldn't penetrate.
"This is it." Bob's voice was barely a sigh, telling her what she already knew. The temperature hadn't changed but goose bumps shivered across her flesh.
Jenna didn't answer. Instead she clicked off her light, keeping her thumb on the switch. She wandered into the center of the cavern, knowing there was nothing to trip her, but even with Bob's light still on, she felt disoriented, her stomach spinning as if she was falling. "Turn yours off."
"That's not a good—"
"Turn it off."
"Okay. But don't move. There's a sheer drop on the other side of the cavern."
Jenna nodded, hands out to her side as if bracing herself against the nothingness that surrounded her.
Bob's light went out.
The darkness was suffocating. Worse than being blind because she couldn't even try to imprint her memories on the black canvas of nothingness.
Her head pounded as the vertigo worsened. The sound of her heartbeat, of Bob's boots scraping against the limestone, of her gasps, of the girl's voice describing her torture. They spiraled and echoed, ricocheting from the rocks to ambush her from unexpected directions. Each sound was a body blow.
Each breath was swallowing thick, sticky cobwebs. They swelled up inside her, squeezing her heart and lungs, even as the blackness tightened around her from the outside, wrapping itself around her entire body, strangling her.
She dropped her light, clawed her neck, fought for air.
With one last cry of panic, she fell to the ground. But even with her palms pressed against the earth, she couldn't tell which way was up. The darkness just kept pressing down on her from every direction, crushing her.
Bob's light clicked on. Blinding. She blinked against the harsh light. He gathered her into his arms, helping her to sit up. Then he added her light to his. Twin beams of hope in the darkness.
"How long?" she gasped.
"Thirty, forty seconds, give or take," he said, his voice filled with concern. "You okay? Should've said you were claustrophobic. Never would've brought you in here."
She pushed to her feet. Red spots danced in her vision, but the panic banished. "I'm not. Claustrophobic." She held her light with both hands, unwilling to chance losing it. "Thirty seconds?"
"Yes'm." He stood beside her, his light glinting against one of the steel rings.
"And they were held here for weeks—"
"A few for months. Best we can tell." He cleared his throat. "Lucy said he liked the control the darkness gave him. He had night vision goggles, so he could see. Could surprise them, do whatever he wanted and they were powerless."
Jenna nodded. Powerless. Good word for it.
"Show me where the bastard died."
Chapter 12
Adam took the paper from Lucy. Stared at his own words in black and white. He barely remembered writing them. Idiot. So much for his brilliant plan.
Dad was right. Adam should leave the planning to him. A snowflake fell, blotting the paper and smearing the ink. He would if he could. He'd leave everything to Dad, follow him anywhere, do anything. But first he had to find him.
Lucy hugged him again. She pressed her palm between his shoulder blades, rubbing his back. The place his mother used to rub when he was a baby.
He didn't want to push her away, but after a moment spent with his eyes shut, imagining she was his mom, he did.
She hadn't changed at all. Still the dark hair that glinted red when the light caught it a certain way, worn tucked simply behind her ears. Still the expression that said she'd listen to anything he had to say. She wouldn't judge, because she cared, she really cared.
But if she cared so much, then, "Why did you come alone?" His voice deteriorated to snuffles but he felt no shame. Not with Lucy. "Now he'll never find me. I need him. I don't know what to do without him."
She gave him another hug, this time with one arm, pulling him so they stood side by side facing the memorial stone. "What happened, Adam? Why did you leave your father?"
He sank down to sit on the granite marker. Mom wouldn't mind and he wasn't sure his legs could keep holding him up.
Suddenly he realized the burden he'd taken on when he took Sally. He had to find Dad. He thought of Marty and Darrin facing those bullies—the ones in the playground and the ones in their own homes. Dad would know how to keep Sally and the boys safe. How to keep them all safe.
But Dad wasn't here.
"It was all my fault," he told Lucy. "I screwed up."
"Everyone makes mistakes, Adam. Did your father kick you out? Are you frightened to go home?"
He shook his head. "Of course not. I just can't find him. I've been looking and looking and I thought if I came back here and if you came with all the reporters and fuss and all, well, he'd know where I was. I thought he'd come and get me. Take me back."
It sounded stupid. He glanced at her, surprised she wasn't laughing at him. Instead she looked worried.
"Adam, sending a threatening letter wasn't the way to get your dad's attention. It's against the law."
"But—" For the first time ever, Lucy frightened him. Was she going to arrest him? She couldn't. Then who would take care of Sally? "I didn't hurt anyone. I just—" He swallowed hard. "I just wanted my dad back."
"I know. I know. Don't worry, we'll figure it out. And I'll find your dad for you." She brushed her palms against the back of her pants as if ready to get to work. "First, where are you staying? We need to get you hooked up with social services while we look for you dad."
"No." He stood, for the first time realizing how much taller he was than her. Not just taller. Bigger.
But she didn't look frightened at all. Not like the fish had. But Lucy was no fish.
"No social services. No foster home. No more creeps. I want my real family. A real home." Even if it was the bunk in the back of Dad's truck. Even if it was the floor of a dingy motel room. He didn't care. Anything was better than another Rick the Prick.
Lucy held her hands up but she didn't surrender. "Adam. You can't live on the street. It's not safe."
Wind gusted between them, a s
wirl of snow. Nothing serious, not yet. Just a promise. As if Mother Nature sided with Lucy.
Adam didn't care. "I have somewhere safe. I don't need social services." He backed up a few steps, his mom's stone between them. "I don't need you."
Before she could say anything, he sprinted for the trees.
"Adam, wait!"
He didn't stop. He didn't look back. There was nothing left for him there anyway. Lucy couldn't help him. Not anymore.
Only Dad could.
Branches snapped against his arms and face but he didn't slow down until he was certain he'd lost her. He circled back through the trees, angling along the side of the mountain and came to a vantage point where he could spy on her. She'd returned to her car and was talking into her phone, walking in a circle, seeking him out. He held his breath as her gaze brushed over the spot below him.
He waited until she got in the car and drove away. Then he waited some more. The snow fell for real now, dusting his shoulders, helping him blend in. His cave was on the other side of the mountain. If he walked along the logging roads, it would be dark by the time he got there. What if they brought dogs to chase him?
But no one came. He climbed down and returned to where he'd hidden the truck behind the cemetery’s barn. He glanced at the dashboard clock. Just enough time to go shopping before school let out.
He knew what he needed to do. Protect his family. Exactly like Dad would.
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Lucy let Adam go. She cursed herself as he bounded from the cemetery and up into the trees on the mountain. He was a fugitive who'd crossed state lines. He'd confessed to a federal felony, using the mail to threaten her.