The unmistakable ping of gunfire ripped through the dark and echoed down the stone passage from ahead of him. Then, the mountain seemed to rumble and shake above and around him. Not a great time for a cave in. What idiot was shooting a gun underground? He had to find Laurel and get them out before the tunnel collapsed.
His head pounded, making it difficult to stand up straight, to place one foot in front of the other. He tried to move, but then stopped to catch his breath. His fingers found the ragged rip in his scalp. He winced from the pain his probing finger caused. The wound on the back of his head leaked blood but at least it wasn’t gushing. From the amount of liquid on the basement floor, he must have taken a hard hit. He wanted to punch himself for letting someone sneak up on him like that. Truth was, his reactions had been dulled. He’d underestimated the threat.
He tore a strip from the bottom of his t-shirt and tied it around his head. The edges of his vision were fuzzy, and he hoped he didn’t have a concussion. He shook his head once to remove the cobwebs.
He had to function. Laurel was in trouble.
As he followed the man into the right tunnel, the cadence of indistinct voices traveled down the stone corridor. He switched off the light and felt his way along the tunnel wall. As he drew near the conversation, he kicked something. The talk stopped and he held his breath. When the conversation resumed, he flicked his light at his feet. The gun. The one he had just purchased in Fairview. Who had taken it from him? His attacker or Laurel? No matter. Neither of them held it. He squatted to retrieve the weapon, checked the magazine, and carried it in his right hand, switching the flashlight to his left. It was a heavy light and would make a suitable weapon if necessary.
When he rounded a rock outcropping, he found himself on the edge of a large cavern. The room suddenly lit with brilliant light. He sucked in a deep breath, surveyed the scene. A man crushed beneath a jumble of rock and stone. Laurel with her back pressed against a wall. An old man pointing a gun at her face. The obvious trappings of a meth lab and the ultra strong smell of cat urine. The wall crackling and groaning as if its layers weren’t through peeling away and tumbling to the ground.
He took it all in, the unstable cavern and the lack of sufficient ventilation, and gauged how much time they had before the place blew sky high. Didn’t the idiot know you couldn’t fire a gun anywhere near a meth lab?
Laurel caught his eye over the old man’s shoulder. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even change expression.
“I’m not going to do anything for you, Cooley,” she sputtered as if the man had said something incredibly ridiculous.
She was keeping her presence of mind, identifying for Chase whom they were dealing with. He’d heard of Cooley but never met him. The meth cooker. He had no use for meth cookers. He and Laurel had been sucked into a dangerous situation.
“You want to end up as dead as Zeke?”
Cooley’s nasty question rasped on Chase’s nerves. He rolled his hand, hoping Laurel would understand his sign language and keep the conversation going.
She blinked once. Was that an acknowledgment?
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I was going to leave here and let Sam have the place. I don’t want to live here anymore. Do whatever you want with it...just let me go.”
Cooley cackled. “Sam doesn’t need anything anymore. He’s as gone as Zeke. Besides... It’s not that easy, and you know it. You’ve seen too much. I can at least get some work out of you before...well, you know.”
Chase took another step forward and began a slow curve, circling them, hoping Cooley would keep his attention on Laurel and wouldn’t notice the man advancing on his backside.
Cooley reached for her, but she slid along the wall the opposite direction from which Chase was headed. Good. She was drawing Cooley into position for him. A few more steps and he would be right behind the man. She licked her lips. A calculating expression spread across her face. Did the old man notice her change in demeanor?
“How’d you do it? How’d you get James to work for you?”
Cooley shifted from one foot to the other. “No, no. Not answering your questions. You don’t need to know. Stop stalling.”
He made another move toward her. She stuck her hand out to stop his advance, but he slapped it down and grabbed her wrist before sticking a gun in her ear.
Her eyes met Chase’s over Cooley’s shoulder. A slight nod. Chase moved another step closer. She shifted her eyes away from Chase as if she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Cooley lowered the gun as his head swiveled the direction of her gaze. The butt of Chase’s gun came down on Cooley’s head, and the old man crumpled to his knees. Cooley’s gun fired as it hit the stone floor, the bullet ricocheting around the room and thudding into the wooden leg of the table. Laurel pried his hand from her wrist, and Chase grabbed her by the elbow.
“Move. We have to get out of here.” He tugged her toward the exit. “This whole tunnel system is going to blow.”
Every step he took, he was sure Cooley was right behind them. Laurel tripped and stumbled forward, pushing into him and shoving them forward. It seemed to take forever to maneuver through the passages.
She stopped suddenly and nearly pulled him off his feet.
“What? What’s wrong? Why are you stopping? We have to get out of here.”
“He’s calling my name. I have to find him.”
Laurel unwrapped his hand from her arm and turned the opposite direction, but he heard her slam into the wall and cry out from the pain of the impact. He backtracked to where she had crumpled onto the cave floor.
“What are you doing? Trying to get us killed?”
“He’s calling my name. I can’t leave him.”
There was no time for reasoning with her, or explanations. He hauled her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder, making progress along the narrow tunnel difficult.
“Put me down.”
He tightened his grip around her legs but kept moving.
“Stop struggling. You’re going to get us both killed.”
“Cooooleeey.” She screamed his name and the shrill sound vibrated the stone walls. “Don’t let him die. Don’t let my baby die.”
He’d never heard anything so gut-wrenching or heart-rending. Cooley was not Laurel’s baby. Could she be channeling Celeste? Cooley couldn’t possibly be Celeste’s baby. He was too old. Unless, Celeste was calling him baby just as Chase called Laurel baby.
He shook the strange thoughts out of his head. Laurel was not Celeste. Too much weirdness. Finally, he reached the basement entrance and dropped her to her feet, relieved to have made it out of the tight space alive. He placed his hands on each of Laurel’s cheeks and stared into her eyes. “Who are you?”
Her eyes glittered with hysteria. “Celeste.”
The sound of the name sent electric shocks throughout his body.
He shook her hard. “Let her go, Celeste.”
Where had the commanding tone come from? Out of his past experience maybe. The moment reminded him of a hostage situation.
“She’s mine.” Not a normal voice. Eerie and scratchy.
He didn’t like dealing with what he couldn’t understand. Anger surged within him.
“No, she’s not. You gave her away.”
Laurel’s eyes rolled back in her head. Then popped open again. “Can’t let her go.”
“She can’t help you save Cooley. He’s already gone.”
He hadn’t believed in the paranormal crap, but he was talking to Laurel as if he was reasoning with her dead aunt. No experience with talking to the dead. Not in his skill set. He did the only thing he could think of and slapped Laurel. She blinked hard, lolled her head forward until her chin hit her chest, and crumpled into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Just as Grayson drove up the steep drive of Laurel Heights, Chase carried Laurel out the front door. Gray didn’t like the way she drooped in his arms. He slammed the shift into park and the door screeched o
n its hinges as he shoved it open. The worry that creased the lines of Chase’s face told Gray the whole story. The man was afraid he’d lost her.
“What happened?” he called as he approached them.
Chase didn’t stop to answer, but kept moving down the front steps and away from the house before he deposited her on the grassy front lawn. Fine beads of sweat glistened on Chase’s forehead. He straightened and wiped his hand across his brow. His mouth moved to answer, but before he could offer any explanations, an explosion rumbled the earth on the other side of the hill behind the house. A plume of dirt and debris shot up into a mushroom cloud, hung in the air for a moment, and then slowly drifted downward to earth again. One more rumble and the trees behind the house wobbled, the ground moved as if Arkansas was experiencing a rare earthquake.
“What the h—”
“Meth lab,” Chase finally managed between gasps of breath. He dropped to the ground next to Laurel and patted her cheeks. “Barely got out in time.”
Just as Gray had feared. He’d put everything together on the drive down to Laurel Heights so that nothing Chase could have told him would have surprised him. So Laurel had discovered her father’s secret—the cave where Cooley cooked his meth—just as old Timna said she would. Had she also learned that the old man was her biological father?
He’d just gotten into his vehicle when the state crime lab in Little Rock called him with some strange DNA results, a familial match between Laurel and the meth cooker. He’d almost forgotten he’d requested the test, and of course, Cooley was in the system from a previous incarceration. The new information made Timna’s cryptic comment make enormous sense.
“Were you in the caves?”
Chase nodded and drew in a deep breath. “Someone fired a gun and brought part of the cave wall down. Weakened the structure. Shifted the cooker...and BOOM!” Chase waved his hands to indicate a large explosion. “I left a man named Cooley down there. I could only get one of them out, and guess who I chose?”
Gray understood. He would have rescued the girl as well.
“Was there anyone with Cooley?”
He’d just been informed that Sam Richards was missing before Gray turned onto the drive.
“There’s another man buried beneath a pile of rock.”
Gray rubbed the side of his face. Two dead. “Sam Richards?”
“No, someone I’ve never met.”
“Probably one of his cousins. They were all in on this together, I think.”
Chase glanced up at Gray. “Cooley implied that Richards is dead.”
Three dead.
Chase turned his attention back to Laurel, brushing a stray swatch of hair out of her eyes.
“He might be. I found someone’s blood in the basement.”
“Hum...maybe, but that could also be old. Might be James’s blood.”
“No, this was fresh.”
Chase would know.
Gray pointed toward Chase’s head. “Lots of blood on that bandage.”
Chase touched the cloth that still circled his head. “Someone clocked me. I went down hard. Next thing I remember, I’m waking up, and Laurel is gone. I knew...just somehow knew she’d gone down the tunnel, so I followed her.”
“What tunnel?”
“Leads from the basement to the cave.”
Gray pointed at Laurel, glad she was still alive. “What happened to her?” He needed Chase to finish the story whether he wanted to or not.
A shadow passed over Chase’s face and his jaw muscles twitched. “She fainted.”
Well, Gray could see that easily enough, but he got the impression there was more Chase could have said, but he had chosen to edit his story.
Gray knelt beside Laurel and grabbed her wrist. “Her pulse is strong, but I’m worried about how long she’s been out.” He yanked his cell from the holder on his belt. “I need backup and EMS at the old Standridge place on Highway 65.”
Laurel’s eyes fluttered open. “I don’t want to go to the hospital.”
She dug her elbows into the grass and tried to sit up. Chase eased her back down with a gentle, but firm push.
“No, let me sit up.”
“It’s too soon.”
“I’m all right. I promise. I just can’t lie here another second. I feel...helpless.”
She did indeed seem restless and anxious as if she could bolt and run. Chase raised her into a seated position so that she could lean on him.
Her brown eyes zeroed in on Gray. “Some strange things happened down there—”
“Laurel, don’t.” Chase’s arm tightened around her, protectively it seemed.
Gray didn’t like the way Chase had cut her off. “What kind of strange things?”
“It was like I knew things that I didn’t know.”
Interesting. “Like what?”
“I knew his name, but I’d never met him.”
Her story was like trying to play connect the dots.
“Who?”
“Laurel, maybe you shouldn’t talk until you feel better.” Chase’s tone held a sharp edge, a clear warning.
She still held Gray’s gaze, her eyes never shifting. “Zeke and Cooley were making James pay off some sort of debt he owed them. I think he might have been cooking meth for them.” She twisted to glance over her shoulder at the house. “Is it still there?”
Chase stroked her hair, a tender gesture, the gentle comfort of a lover. “Yeah, it’s still there. The hillside buffered the explosion.”
She sighed and turned her attention back to Gray. “I’m going to sell the place and get as far away from here as I can.” She paused a second. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Her thoughts seemed to be jumping all over the place. Whatever had happened to her had obviously messed with her mind.
Her defiant tone left little room for argument, but he was the law and he was going to tell her what she had to do anyway. “Once I close this case, you’re free to—”
“I can’t stay here. I’m not wanted. I was never wanted. The sooner I leave, the better. Before someone or something kills me.”
Gray glanced up at Chase. The man’s face was impassive. A lot of information hid behind the man’s blank countenance. Gray was sure of it.
“If you’re not charging either of us with anything, you can’t hold us here. It’s obvious to me who killed James Standridge. It should be to you by now.”
He didn’t like Chase’s insinuation that he was too slow coming to the right conclusions.
“I’ll want statements before you go.” He needed their statements, but his demand was more about maintaining control of the conversation.
Chase nodded. “Of course.” A concession more than an agreement.
“Let me up.”
Laurel pushed off from Chase and rose unsteadily to her feet while Chase kept a protective hand on her waist and then her elbow. She pushed her tangled hair out of her eyes. Tears had left tracks in the grime on her cheeks. Trauma was written all over her face. She might need more than a medical doctor. She seemed to shrug off her anxiety. Like a too warm coat. It appeared to fall away from her as if she’d never worn it.
“I want to get my things and get out of here.”
Chase grabbed her elbow as she started toward the front steps. “Babe, you can’t go in there. There could still be someone hiding in there.”
“I want my things.” She leaned into him, whispered in his ear.
Chase’s face settled into compassion. He stroked her cheek once, wiped a stray tear from her eye, and turned to Gray. “I’ll go with her.”
“You can’t go in there until it’s cleared. It’s a crime scene.”
Chase took a step toward Gray. “You really, really need to cooperate with her right now, Grayson.”
The meaning in his firm words was clear. She needed the comfort of whatever it was she wanted to retrieve from the house.
“Go on. Do what you need to do, but make it quick...before the EMTs get here...a
nd they could be here any second, so don’t waste time being sentimental. I don’t want to have to explain why I let you back inside a hot crime scene.”
Chase pulled a handgun from the back waistband of his jeans. “Here, I’m sure you’ll want to log this into evidence. It’s been fired.”
“Is it registered?”
“What difference does that make?”
Gray raised his eyebrows, but didn’t move to touch it. “You are going to tell me the story, aren’t you?”
“When I give you my statement.” The gun still dangled between thumb and forefinger.
“No, you keep it.”
Chase snorted. “You trust me to handle evidence?”
“No, I don’t, but I trust you with her, and I want you to have it in case you meet someone else inside the house...someone that’s not supposed to be there. The only reason I’m allowing you to keep it is that I know you know how to handle a gun. I’ll get it from you when you come back down. So you need to hurry.”
Chase smiled, a conspiratorial sort of acknowledgment of Gray’s hesitant consent and stuffed the gun back into the waistband of his jeans.
“You know I’ll never tell.” He slid his arm around her and guided her toward the steps, and then the two of them disappeared inside the house.
****
Chase gathered his few possessions quickly while Laurel watched him from the door of the downstairs room he had only occupied for a very short time.
“That’s it. I think I’ve gotten everything out of here that was mine.” He nodded toward the door. “Let’s go get your stuff now.”
Laurel placed a hand on his forearm and stopped him before he pushed past her out the door. “Chase? What happened in the cave?”
He puffed out his cheeks, anxious to get out of the room, finish in Laurel’s bedroom, and get out of the house. Revisiting the event would be essential to her mental health, but he had hoped she would wait until they were long gone from Laurel Heights before she started probing her abused psyche.
“How much do you remember?”
“I remember finding the entrance to the tunnel and coming to on the front lawn. Everything in between... At first it was all a blur, but now I don’t remember any of it. Like it’s all fading and I can’t get it back.” She shivered. “Like something is sucking the memories right out of my brain.”
Laurel Heights (Haunted Hearts Series Book 1) Page 25