Ashes, Ashes, They All Fall Dead

by LENA DIAZ,

  “Get up,” she whispered furiously in Matt’s ear.

  He gritted his teeth against the pain and climbed to his feet. His left arm, now stabbed and shot, hung completely useless at his side. The warm, wet feel of blood trickled down from his shoulder.

  Tessa moved to his other side and grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. He stumbled at first, then steeled himself against the searing pain that lanced through him with every movement.

  He squeezed her hand, and they took off down the tunnel.

  The sound of Owen’s singing faded as they rounded another curve.

  “He’s not even trying to keep up with us,” Tessa said. “Why isn’t he trying to keep up with us?”

  “Because he’s having fun, just like his damned father did. A sick little serial killer duo.”

  The tunnel began to angle up and to the right before flattening out again. They both slammed into something at waist level and fell to the ground.

  Matt sucked in his breath and clutched his arm.

  He heard the sound of feet shuffling against the ground as Tessa stood.

  “Matt, Matt,” she called out. “I know where we are.”

  The excitement in her voice reached him through his haze of pain. He reached his right hand up and loosened the shirt tied around his neck. He fashioned a crude sling out of it to help immobilize his left arm so the pain wouldn’t interfere with his thinking. Immediately the arm felt better.

  “What do you mean you know where we are?” he asked.

  “We ran into the railcar. It’s the same one I ran into the other day. We’re not in a different mine. We’re in the same one. We just entered it through a different tunnel.”

  “If you’re right—”

  “Then we know the layout of this section of the mine. And we know the way out.”

  Matt nodded, then realized how futile that was since she couldn’t see him.

  “‘Ashes, ashes . . .’” Owen’s singsong voice sounded behind them. He was catching up.

  “We can’t stay in the main tunnel. There aren’t any curves to give us shelter,” Matt reminded her.

  “Then we’ll have to stay in the section where we found Tonya until we can double back to the main tunnel and find the exit,” Tessa whispered.

  “Let’s go.”

  They reached for each other, laced their fingers together, and took off again.

  This time, running through the dark was much easier. They knew the way by heart.

  They hurried down the long tunnel, turning left, right, left again. A patch of sunlight beckoned to them up ahead from one of the ventilation shafts.

  Matt slowed. Had he heard something behind them?

  Tessa tugged his hand. “Come on.”

  He grabbed her and pulled her to the ground.

  A gun boomed, sending rock and dust raining down on them, right about where Tessa had been standing.

  “Ha! You’re making this so damn fun!” Owen laughed, his voice echoing from the darkness.

  Matt and Tessa ran in the opposite direction of his voice.

  “Get ready,” Matt whispered.

  She squeezed his hand, obviously understanding what he meant. They both knew there was another turn up ahead on the right.

  Footsteps sounded behind them. Owen wasn’t trying to be quiet this time.

  “Now,” Matt whispered. He yanked Tessa’s hand, pulling her into the nearest tunnel.

  “Oh guys,” Owen called out from the tunnel they’d just left, “you do know I have night-vision goggles, right?” He burst out laughing, his chortles of glee bouncing off the walls of the mine. “I’m the new, improved serial killer model. Daddy Two-Point-O!” His laughter echoed around them.

  Tessa whimpered. “We’re never getting out of here.” She drew a shallow breath, and another, but couldn’t quite get enough air.

  “Don’t give up on us just yet.” Matt counted his steps, remembering the layout of the tunnels in his head. Ten, eleven, twelve. He yanked her hand again, pulling her through another opening.

  Tessa’s breaths sounded loud and harsh in the silent tunnel.

  “Matt . . . I can’t . . . breathe.”

  He pulled her to a stop. “Bend your head down,” he whispered. “Try to calm down. Slow, deep breaths.” He rubbed her back. “Slow and deep. There you go. Better?”

  She coughed. “Better.”

  “Don’t panic. I’ve got an idea.” He just prayed that when Casey and his men had finished their investigation they hadn’t taken everything out. He prayed they’d left the one thing he needed right now.

  “Tell me your plan.” Her words came out choppy, labored. “Because I’m all out of ideas.”

  Again he timed his footfalls, counting. “To the right.”

  She turned with him, trusting him.

  He hoped to God she wouldn’t regret that trust.

  As the tunnel began to curve farther around and up, she tugged on his hand.

  “Wait, wait, this is a dead end. This tunnel ends at the—”

  “The cell where I found Tonya. I know. Trust me.”

  “I do, but—”

  He stopped and pulled her against him. “I don’t have time to explain. Just go with it. I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect you.”

  She stiffened. “I hate this. I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you, damn it. I’m an FBI agent and you’re just a freaking private investigator.”

  Her voice sounded mutinous, resentful.

  “One of these days, you’re going to respect private investigators, Special Agent James.”

  “I’ll respect you right now if you save my ass.”

  He couldn’t help but smile.

  The sound of footfalls echoed down the tunnel they’d just exited.

  He pulled her with him and they sprinted down the tunnel.

  When the darkness began to give way to a lighter gray, Matt knew they were close to the corner that would reveal the cell, with its ventilation shaft throwing down just enough light to see shapes but very little detail.

  Perfect for his plan.

  They rounded the corner.

  The light from the ventilation shaft showed them the cell with its door hanging open.

  The smell of gasoline and kerosene roiled toward them.

  “Oh no,” Tessa cried. “We have to go back. He planned this. We have to go back.”

  Matt grabbed her, cursing when the movement jarred his bad shoulder. “We can’t go back. He’s right behind us.” He jerked her shirt up over her mouth and nose again to protect her from the fumes. “Come on. Quick, into the cell.”

  She hurried inside with him.

  The small bed was still there. Matt blew out a breath of relief and lifted the mattress.

  “Grab one of the wooden slats,” he said.

  Tessa grabbed the length of wood that helped support the mattress. “What are we supposed to do with these? Go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and stake him?”

  Matt choked on his laughter. “It’s an idea, but I might have something better in mind. I need your help.” He sucked in a breath as he took his injured arm out of his homemade sling. He grabbed the pillow off the bed and tossed it at Tessa. “Take the pillowcase off.”

  Humming sounded down the tunnel.

  “Quickly.” Matt tied the sleeves of his shirt together. “We’ve only got about thirty seconds, if that.”

  Tessa pulled the pillow out of the casing and followed Matt’s instructions.

  TESSA KNELT IN front of the bed. She didn’t have to fake the tears running down her face as she stared at the bloodstained sheets. The blood was fresh, from Matt’s injured arm. If his idiotic plan worked, she was going to kiss him.

  And then she was going to kill him.

  Footsteps shuffled behind her.

  She stiffened but didn’t turn around. She put her hands on the pile of blankets and pillow lumped beneath the sheets and waited. It took all of her courage to keep her back turned to Owen, knowing he wa
s probably aiming his gun at her right now. But she was also putting her faith in Matt, in his plan, and in her trust that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her if it was humanly possible.

  “Turn around,” Owen ordered, his voice a taunting sneer.

  He was too far away. She needed to draw him closer.

  She threw herself over the lump on the bed and started sobbing. “Matt, wake up. Please.”

  The footsteps shuffled closer.

  “Turn around!” Owen demanded.

  She looked over her shoulder. “You killed him. He bled out.”

  He stepped closer, trying to see around her. He gestured with his gun. “Get up. Move.”

  “Why? So you can shoot him again? What difference does it make? He’s already dead.”

  Owen’s mouth twitched, then curved in a broad smile. He started toward the cell.

  Suddenly he stopped. He looked down at his arm. A big, fat drop of blood rolled down his sleeve. His eyes widened. He looked up, just as Matt dropped down from where he’d climbed up the bars and wedged himself into the ventilation shaft, using the wooden splint Tessa had tied to his arm as a brace.

  The gun fired into the far wall as the two men fell to the ground.

  Tessa dove to the cot and the bullet ricocheted into the wall a few feet away. She jumped up and ran out of the cell, hoping to help Matt. But he and Owen were still wrestling for the gun. They rolled on the floor, each one trying to get the advantage over the other.

  Matt suddenly slammed Owen’s wrist against the floor. The gun popped loose amid a string of curses. Tessa scampered forward and grabbed the gun just as Owen was reaching toward it. He glared at her a split second before Matt drove his fist into Owen’s jaw.

  Tessa scrambled back out of the way as the men kicked and punched at each other. Matt was the bigger man, brawnier and taller, but he was severely hampered by having only one usable arm. His hurt arm was tied to the wooden splint with the pillowcase Tessa had taken from the cell. And he had to be getting weak from blood loss by now.

  Matt suddenly swung his splinted arm at Owen’s head, using the stake of wood like a baseball bat. Owen dodged the hit and punched Matt in the jaw.

  Matt hissed and fell back. Owen squirmed around and jumped on top of him.

  “Get off him!” Tessa yelled, pointing the gun at her brother.

  Owen jerked to the side, pulling Matt up to block her shot.

  She gritted her teeth in frustration.

  Matt brought his knee up into Owen’s groin. Owen sucked in a breath and bent over. Matt gave him an uppercut beneath his jaw, snapping his head back. Owen howled with pain, blood spurting from his busted lip. He hauled back and threw a punch with his left arm. Matt blocked it, but Owen twisted around and slammed his fist into Matt’s injured shoulder.

  Matt’s face turned ghost white.

  Tessa cried out and moved closer, desperate for an opening.

  Again her brother twisted, keeping Matt between him and Tessa’s gun.

  Matt suddenly turned and drove his elbow into Owen’s Adam’s apple.

  Owen immediately released Matt and fell back, making choking noises and grabbing his throat.

  Matt pushed himself off Owen. He staggered to his feet, swaying. “Give me the gun.”

  Tessa shook her head. A minute ago she’d have gladly shot her brother to save Matt. But now Owen was lying there, gasping for breath with a crushed larynx. Helpless. She shook her head again.

  Matt stepped over to her. “Tessa, he’s still dangerous. Give me the gun.”

  “No. I won’t let you shoot him.”

  “For the love of . . . I’m not going to shoot him. Not unless I have to. There’s only one murderer in this mine. And it’s not me.”

  The censure in his eyes had her face turning hot. She handed him the gun.

  “Help me,” Owen gasped, clutching his neck.

  Tessa took a step toward him.

  “No, Tessa,” Matt said, pulling her back. “He could be faking. I need to tie him up.”

  She shook her head. “He’s not faking. His lips are starting to turn blue.”

  “Just stand back for a minute. I’ll see if there’s something in the cell I can use to tie his hands.”

  Tessa nodded and Matt headed into the cell.

  “Please,” Owen whispered, his voice strained and tinny sounding, like a child’s voice.

  The imploring look in his eyes had Tessa glancing back at Matt. He was trying to cut a sheet from the bed into strips. She looked back at Owen. Each breath appeared to be torture, rattling out of his chest. All those years ago, he’d looked at her with the same imploring eyes, begging for her help. She hadn’t helped him, and he’d endured a lifetime of horrors she couldn’t begin to imagine. As he lay there, struggling for each breath, she realized he was about to die. And here she was, just like before, ignoring his cries for help.

  She couldn’t live with herself if he died and she hadn’t at least tried to comfort him in his last moments. She ran to him and crouched down.

  “Tessa, damn it, no!”

  Matt’s shouted warning was too late.

  Owen grabbed Tessa and twisted around, using her as a shield like he had earlier with Matt. His breaths still rattled out of his chest, but he wasn’t as close to death as he’d seemed. The cold steel of a knife pressed against Tessa’s throat. Owen must have had the knife all along, hidden in his clothing. He’d tricked her and, like a fool, she’d believed him.

  Matt pointed his gun at Owen. “Let her go and I might let you live.”

  Owen laughed, but the air caught in his crushed throat. He choked and wheezed. The knife slipped against Tessa’s throat and she felt the warm wetness of blood oozing down her neck.

  Matt swore and took a step forward.

  Owen steadied the knife. “I’m not . . . getting . . . out of here . . . alive,” he wheezed. “The only question . . .” He struggled to draw air into his lungs before continuing. “The question is whether I take . . . my dear sister . . . with me to hell.”

  Fear and sympathy warred inside Tessa. She could feel how difficult it was for Owen to expend so much oxygen holding her.

  “Let me go, Owen. You’re wasting precious air trying to hold on to me. There’s still hope we can save you if you’ll just let me go.”

  She felt his answer, a shaking of his head, but he didn’t say anything.

  Matt’s knuckles whitened on the trigger. Tessa didn’t know how he was still standing. Blood dripped freely now from his injured shoulder, and his face was pale and drawn. What had she done? She should have dressed his wounds instead of running to her brother.

  “I’m so sorry, Matt,” she said. “This is my fault.”

  Owen pressed the knife harder against her throat, but then his hand fell away and dropped limply to his side. He slumped back against the floor.

  Matt shoved his gun into his waistband and yanked Tessa away from her brother. He kicked the knife, sending it skittering across the ground to bang against the cell doors. He shoved Tessa behind him and aimed his gun at Owen again.

  Owen stared up at him, his eyes turning glassy. He drew a shallow breath.

  Matt slowly lowered his gun.

  “Tessa?” Owen whispered through blue lips. Gone was the sneer, the laughter, the mocking sound of a killer intent on playing his deadly game of revenge. Instead his voice sounded lost, like a little boy crying for help.

  Tessa looked at Matt.

  He held up his hand for her to wait. He patted Owen down, apparently searching for more weapons. Then he stood back and nodded.

  Tessa sank down beside her brother and took his hand in hers. “I’m right here, Owen. I’m right here. I’m not leaving you again.” Tears slid down her face and dripped onto his hand.

  “You’re crying.” His barely audible whisper filled with wonder. “Why?”

  “Because I remember how we used to be. You were such a dear, sweet little boy. Innocent. I’m crying for everything you suffered
. I’m crying for the way things could have been.”

  He struggled to draw another breath, wincing in obvious pain. “You didn’t . . . lie?”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t lie. I loved you. Sissie loved you. We would have come back for you. If we could have, we would have come back for you.”

  His hand fluttered in hers like a little bird fluttering against the side of a cage.

  “Sissie loved me,” he whispered.

  His eyes closed. His breath rattled out of his chest.

  He didn’t take another.

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * *

  TESSA PAUSED IN front of the doors that would take her into Memorial University Medical Center, where Matt was recuperating after the second surgery to repair his shoulder. The first surgery had been performed in Kentucky. But he’d come home for the second and, hopefully, final surgery. Only time would tell if he’d regain full use of his arm after having the tendons and nerves severed by Owen’s knife and then the gunshot, but the doctors were optimistic.

  It was still surreal being back in Savannah, when just a few weeks ago she and Matt had been fighting for their lives in Kentucky. It was especially surreal to realize that if Owen hadn’t stolen Matt’s dog, Matt would probably be dead. When firefighters had responded to the smoke from the house fire Owen had started, they’d found Ginger, unharmed, tied to a tree. When they released her, she took off and led them to the mine entrance. The doctors said Matt would have bled to death if those firefighters hadn’t followed Ginger and found him and Tessa when they had. The dog Matt had once rescued from a shelter had ended up rescuing him.

  “Tessa, hi!”

  She turned at the sound of Madison’s voice. Madison was on the far side of the circular drive with her newborn baby in her arms. Pierce stood beside her. And next to him, sitting in a wheelchair with his arm in a sling, was Matt.

  Tessa waved, her gaze settling on him. She’d only seen him a few times since the ambulance had taken him away from the mine, and he’d always been surrounded by doctors or family members. She’d been dreading the moment when she’d have to speak to him in private and had finally made the trek to the hospital today to get it over with. Part of her was relieved she’d obviously waited too late for that private moment. But the rest of her was inwardly wincing with guilt.