Fatal Secrets

by Allison Brennan

  The men in the shadows moved through the trees. Toward the mine.

  Dean was in there. She had to warn him. But how? How without being heard?

  Dean was a Marine. Though the military no longer used Morse code, they’d used it when Dean was enlisted.

  She tapped her walkie-talkie.

  Danger. Two men approaching. Danger. Two men approaching.

  She heard nothing in response. No Morse code, no voices, nothing.

  “They’ll be ambushed,” she whispered to Clinch, itching to go into the mine and warn them.

  Clinch put his hand on her shoulder. “Stay,” he whispered.

  The men stepped out of the trees and scurried into the mine. They had guns in hand.

  Dean.

  Sonia rose to her feet, rock in hand. She threw it as hard as she could toward the mine. It hit the wall with a thump. Fell to the ground. So did Sonia. Waiting. Waiting.

  One of the men emerged.

  Her father.

  He looked in her direction. God, did he see her?

  Then he turned back toward the mine. She heard his voice, “It’s nothing. Animals.”

  No!

  She jumped up and fired her gun, aiming into the high branches of the pine trees. Snap. A branch split.

  “Shit!” she heard from the mine.

  The two men emerged and hunkered down behind a stack of old lumber outside the mineshaft entrance.

  They were at a standstill. Sonia whispered to Clinch, “Get Callahan and the others.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Dammit, we need them now!”

  “Believe me, they heard your gun. They’re on their way.”

  Dean stopped walking. “Did you hear something?”

  “No.” Cammarata stopped and shined his light on the door. “This is it. It’s padlocked.” He knocked on the door and spoke in Chinese. The women inside started shouting and crying.

  “Can you tell them we’re here to help? They need to quiet down,” Dean said.

  “They’re scared.”

  “They’re going to be dead if Marchand is here. I need to listen.”

  His walkie-talkie was making noise, but with the noise in the room he couldn’t hear it.

  Danger.

  Someone was alerting him to danger. Was someone approaching the mine? Or was it the mine itself that was the danger?

  “Charlie, someone’s coming.”

  Charlie spoke firmly in Xiang through the door. The cries didn’t stop, but they quieted a bit.

  “We have to get them out. Several are sick. They need water. Shoot the lock.”

  “Wait. There’s danger. Someone upside is trying to reach me using Morse code.”

  A faint echo hung in the air.

  “That was a gunshot,” Dean said.

  “We have to get them out. Now.”

  Dean didn’t have a choice. He shot the lock.

  They were at a standstill, the two killers behind the trees. Sonia inched closer, staying under cover.

  The darker man made a run for the entrance only five feet away, then fired his gun in Sonia’s general direction while Marchand followed.

  “They’re going back in!” Sonia exclaimed. “Dammit, Dean is in there.”

  “And he gave us explicit orders—”

  “To watch the entrance. Not to let that bastard breach it! How far away is Callahan?”

  Sonia couldn’t wait for the answer.

  She slid out of hiding. “Marchand!” she shouted. “Dammit, you motherfucking bastard, show yourself!”

  Silence.

  Then her father stepped out from the mine. She wanted to shoot him right then. Be done with him and the misery he caused.

  “Sonia. I somehow knew you were here.”

  “Sergio Martin, aka Noel Marchand, aka Pierre Devereaux and any other damn identity you use—you’re under arrest.”

  He laughed. Her finger itched to pull the trigger. But she couldn’t kill him in cold blood.

  “Put your hands up!” she shouted. He laughed and dove behind a tree. But at least he was away from the mine. Away from Dean and the others.

  She stood, obscured by brush, listening to the moving laughter. Where was the second man?

  “Clinch, number two, where did he go?”

  A volley of gunfire came from the mine.

  Boom!

  The ground shook, but Sonia stayed on her feet. “Shit, Clinch, that was an explosion.”

  Before Clinch could respond, the entrance crumbled, the sound of the collapse tearing at Sonia’s heart. Dean. No, no, this couldn’t end in death. She couldn’t lose the victims. She couldn’t lose the man she loved.

  In the woods behind her, the laughter continued. “Are you going to try to save them? Please do. I’ll find you, Sonia. Next week. Next year. I will kill you after I kill everyone you care about. And I will enjoy every minute watching you suffer.”

  Sonia inched toward the voice, which was too close. “Don’t.” Clinch put his hand on her arm. But he didn’t understand. No one did.

  The ceiling began to cave in around Dean, and the women inside the room screamed. Cammarata pushed open the old door and spoke rapidly in Chinese. He pushed past them, and a chunk of granite slid loose and blocked part of the doorway behind him. The smell of rotting food and feces clogged his nose and lungs.

  “You’d better be able to get that elevator running, because I don’t think we should go back up the stairs.”

  “Why?”

  Dean pointed his flashlight at the staircase.

  The last ten feet were gone.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Marchand was on the run.

  Sonia glanced back toward the mine entrance. She had no tools to dig them out. Callahan was nearly here, with equipment and reinforcements. She could wait here, but her father would get away. Disappear into another country, waiting for her to let her guard down so he could kill her family.

  If they didn’t catch her father now, he would escape and go back to exporting people. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if he went back to his old ways. She wouldn’t be able to sleep, waiting for him to make his move.

  She ran after him, ignoring Clinch’s command to cease.

  Sheffield called after her, “The mine!” but she must have heard him wrong. She wasn’t going into the mine, she was going into the forest. She had Marchand in her sights. If he resisted, would she be able to shoot her own father?

  He’s not your father. Owen Knight is your father.

  She aimed.

  A second, bigger explosion knocked her to the ground.

  * * *

  “Holy shit,” Cammarata said as he pushed the door closed against the tumbling rock. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Dean said through clenched teeth. He couldn’t think about Sonia now; he had these young women to think about.

  The flashlights revealed that there were approximately thirty Chinese girls. These weren’t women. None of them was over sixteen. They all wore simple, handmade dresses that were filthy. Empty water bottles lined the walls. Was water all they’d had for the last four days?

  Cammarata was doing a good job calming them down. When the mine stopped shaking, Dean realized that this room was built like a bunker in the granite. He didn’t know where the air was coming from; it tasted stale, but that might be from the perspiration of the women. But the explosions could have cut off their ventilation, which gave them little time.

  “Get the elevator operational,” Dean commanded. “Now.”

  For once, Cammarata didn’t argue but went right to the elevator and started working.

  Dean tried his walkie-talkie, but no one responded. Was he out of range? Could the signal not cut through this rock? Dean wanted to know that his men—and Sonia—were okay. He needed to know what the hell was happening up above.

  All he heard was static.

  Sonia lost sight of Marchand when he cut through
the trees. She slowed, listening, but her heart was pounding.

  Hearing laughter, she dove for cover behind a thick pine tree.

  “You are a stupid girl,” Marchand said.

  “You’re not going to get away. We know who you are, we know what you look like. I’ll hunt you down until the end of time.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll be dead.”

  She wasn’t going to fall for his mind games. She looked around her, trying to gauge where she was and how she could lure him out of the woods. There was rustling, and movement—where was he going?

  She closed her eyes and listened closely.

  Crunch crunch crunch crunch.

  She dove in the nick of time. A bullet whizzed past her head. And then she was falling.

  She hit the ground with a thud, stunned.

  Sonia looked up. He stood there, against the moon. She saw the silhouette of the gun in his hand pointed into the hole she’d fallen into. She quickly turned off her flashlight and prayed he couldn’t see her. But the hole wasn’t big. He could probably hit her with his eyes closed.

  “Marchand!” she called. “You can kill me. Go ahead. My people will hunt you down like the fucking animal you are.”

  She felt around the wet, muddy slush for her gun. Damn, where was it?

  A bullet hit the muck inches from her leg. No light reached this far down, which was the only reason he missed. Unless the bastard enjoyed this game of cat and mouse. She prayed Clinch or someone heard the gunshot and was close by. If she could stall Marchand just a few minutes, her team would be here to arrest him and toss her a rope.

  She focused on staying calm, but the pitch-black of the hole, the small space, it all conspired against her. She was trapped. The panic started, escalating, and her hand shook as she continued to search for her gun. A sob escaped her chest, a barking pain. No, Sonia! Don’t give in to the fear!

  She heard Dean’s voice in her head. You’re the bravest woman I know.

  Her father laughed from above and fired his weapon again. This bullet hit a good foot above her head.

  “I’m not your papa, Sonia. I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now, haven’t you?”

  She didn’t respond. He was goading her. He wanted to hurt her, or maybe he was low on bullets and wanted her to talk, give away her location in the pit.

  “Your mother was a whore,” he continued. “She worked for me and my father. She took four, five men a day. No one knew who your father was. We’ll call him John.” He laughed again, a low, creepy laugh that sounded almost crazy. “My father had a soft spot for Gabrielle. She was just a manipulative whore, like you. You could be my sister, since my father fucked her often.

  “Sergio Martin worked for me. He was supposed to take Gabrielle to town for an abortion. Believe me, no one was more surprised than I was when the doctor called and said she’d never arrived.”

  Sonia didn’t want to listen, certain Marchand was lying. Wasn’t he? Why would he make up a story so insane?

  “They hid for years. I never stopped looking. No one defies me. Not Sergio, not Gabrielle, not her daughter. I should have slit your throat like I slit that whore’s throat. Painless, compared to poor Sergio’s fate.”

  Marchand fired into the pit again. The bullet clipped one leg on the side of her thigh. She bit back a cry and rolled to the side. It hurt, but it wasn’t serious.

  She felt her gun under her back. It was wet and slick with the mud, and she tried to clean it as best she could with her damp shirt.

  Sonia closed her heart and mind to what Marchand said. He wanted to scare her, to divert her attention from the danger she was in. And it was working. Her panic, her anger, everything. She was losing.

  She barely remembered her mother. Only the sadness that spread like a sickness through their small cottage. But Gabrielle had risked her life, had died to save Sonia. Sonia would not allow Marchand to win after everything her mother had sacrificed.

  “Why didn’t you kill me then?” she screamed up the shaft. “Why play daddy to a four-year-old?”

  His voice was cold. “Because everyone trusts a widower missionary traveling with a child.”

  Sonia’s claustrophobia disappeared, dwarfed by the anguish and anger she felt at being used. She aimed her gun at the silhouette of the bastard up top and fired. The gun worked, and she pressed the trigger again. Again.

  Marchand’s body jerked against the sky, as each bullet hit its mark. He fell into the pit with her.

  * * *

  Sonia quickly rolled to get out of the way, then scrambled to gain hold of something as she started to slip. But everything was slick and wet and she rolled down, through loose, wet soil. Down, down, down faster and faster until she screamed, and her mouth filled with mud. Dean came up with the last of the Chinese girls. It took only ten minutes to get them all out once Charlie got the elevator working. When he reached the landing, he saw Lawson sitting up against the wall with a bullet in his leg. He’d been given a field dressing. Another man he didn’t recognize lay dead. The entrance had disappeared.

  Brian Stone was on the radio, looking frustrated.

  “What happened?” Dean asked

  “Two men came in and then one turned and ran back out when he saw Lawson. The dead guy panicked when he saw us, started firing. There was a small explosion of some sort—I think he hit an old lamp, but I don’t know what caused it. Then the ceiling came down. We fired back. It was a righteous kill, Agent Hooper.”

  “Did you search him?”

  The SWAT leader tossed him a wallet. “Jerry Ignacio, lives in Sacramento. There’s a passport on him, too, and about three thousand dollars. Couple guns, a knife.”

  “Have you tried to get out?”

  “We’ve been in contact with Callahan, they’re right on the other side. There’s a small crawl-through. We’ve been sending the women out one at a time.”

  Dean spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Agent Knight? Callahan?” Nothing. “Clinch? Anderson? Anyone?”

  “Hooper, it’s Trace Anderson.”

  “Where’s Sonia?”

  “She and Clinch pursued the other suspect.”

  “The curator?”

  “The guy with glasses? He’s fine, sitting in my car. We came across a truck on the road. They fled when they saw us and went over the cliff right at the bend not half a mile down the road. You might have heard the explosion.”

  “It caved in part of the mine.”

  “You okay?”

  “Yes. The women?”

  “We have a sheriff’s med unit and van here, and an ambulance on its way.”

  “Good. Now find Sonia and Clinch.”

  Cammarata heard the conversation. “She went after Marchand, did she?”

  “I don’t know.” But Dean feared she had.

  “Shit.”

  Dean was itching to get out and find her himself. His skin crawled, thinking about what might happen in a confrontation between Sonia and her father.

  Clinch shined his light down the hole. “He’s dead.” “Where’s Sonia?” Sam Callahan looked around.

  “Sonia! Sonia Knight!” He asked Clinch, “Are you sure there were only two of them?”

  “Yes,” Clinch said. “Dammit, where is she?”

  Sam took out a heavy-duty light and shined it into the hole. “Do you hear that?”

  Clinch listened. “It sounds like running water.”

  Sam called Brian Stone on the radio. “We have a situation. We need rope and lights. Tell Hooper that Agent Knight may be in trouble.”

  Dean followed Trace and Brian to the edge of the hidden shaft that Sonia had fallen down. “Where is she?”

  “Dr. Sheffield thinks she fell into an underwater river,” Trace said.

  Dean couldn’t have heard that correctly. “I don’t understand.” His skin prickled and his chest tightened. “Where is she?”

  Sheffield shined a heavy-duty light on the blueprints. “This river is flowing toward the mine. It was a huge pr
oblem for the original miners before they—”

  “Stop,” Dean said. “I just need to know where she is.”

  Sheffield continued. “It flows east to west, of course. It’s heading toward the mine, but it’s more a pool of water this time of year. If she didn’t drown—”

  Dean closed his eyes. “I’ll go in. Get the rope, Brian. Lower me down.”

  Sheffield shook his head. “Not a good idea. All this movement and activity has disturbed the sediment. But I know where she’ll end up.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Cammarata exclaimed. “She could be hurt, she could be—”

  “Lower me down,” Dean repeated. But it was too late. Cammarata jumped into the shaft and disappeared.

  “Shit!” Dean turned to Sheffield. “Take me to where she’ll be. Right now.”

  “It’s dangerous—”

  “I don’t give a shit how dangerous it is. I need her back.”

  I need her alive.

  Sonia coughed up muddy water. It was pitch-black. She couldn’t see anything, not even her hands in front of her. She shivered, soaked through.

  Where on earth was she?

  Running water echoed all around her, deafening. She’d lost her gun when she fell—she felt around for it and her hand fell into deep water. She scrambled back up to where she’d landed. She’d lost consciousness at one point. She must have. She remembered falling and then … now.

  More cautiously, she felt the surrounding area, crawling away from the water. Her knees and hands sank deep into mud. She sat and wrapped her arms around her legs, rocking herself.

  It was so dark.

  The familiar panic rose in her chest, her body breaking out into a sweat. But it was cold, so cold, and she shivered uncontrollably.

  Her voice echoed eerily in the dark. “Don’t move, Sonia. Sit tight. Someone will find you. Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.

  But they would never find her. How long had she been here? How far had she fallen?

  She had to find a way out herself. Or she would die here.

  Come on Sonia! You’re not a victim anymore.