Cold Heart Creek: A nail-biting and gripping mystery suspense thriller (Detective Josie Quinn Book 7)

by Lisa Regan

  Moore nodded. “You say an awful lot of shit for someone who isn’t trying to imply that I don’t know how to do my job.”

  “I never said anything of the sort,” Josie said. “I’m just saying it’s unusual that even the dogs couldn’t find Maya Bestler. The K-9 unit dogs are very reliable.”

  “No shit,” Moore said. “That’s why everyone suspected Garrett Romney had done something with her. We brought in cadaver dogs, hoping we could find where he stashed her body. As you know, that didn’t work out.”

  He left her standing there and started walking, following Noah and Nash. Josie trudged after him.

  It took another hour and a half to reach the entrance to the caverns, which didn’t look like an entrance at all. It was a rise in the terrain, a small hill where it looked as though several large stones had tumbled to the bottom followed by several tree trunks. Moore pointed to the mess. “I think this is it,” he said.

  “This is what?” Noah said. “It looks like a bunch of debris.”

  Moore turned away from the stones and tree trunks and pointed behind them. “Over there, about thirty feet, is a small tributary of Cold Heart Creek.”

  “I didn’t see a creek when we walked up this way,” Noah said.

  “Cause that’s not the creek. It’s just a little stream that fills up when the creek overflows. It’s run-off, basically, but sometimes it’s enough to flood this whole area.”

  Josie looked around, noting the mud puddles dotting the area which were wet and sticky from the recent rains. “Looks swampy to me,” she said. She took several steps in the direction that Moore had indicated until something colorful caught her eye. “Over here,” she said.

  The others followed, picking through the trees until they came to an old wooden dory boat sitting on some rocks. The boat’s hull was a faded teal color. All but one of the benches inside of it were broken, and a worn paddle rested at its bottom. Its back end was mired deep in mud, and Josie could see the long, wide rut in the forest floor where the Cold Heart Creek tributary carved its way through during the rainier parts of the year. It had already begun to fill with rushing water with the last day of rain they’d experienced. “This is the boat Maya told us about,” Josie said. “We’re in the right place.”

  They climbed back up the hill to where Moore had pointed out the collapsed stones and looked around.

  “Maya said that you couldn’t see the entrance because of rocks and fallen trees,” Moore said.

  He hopped over a tree trunk, and the rest of them followed. They climbed over a few large stones, getting closer to the base of the small hill. Another tree trunk barred their way and behind that, a thatch of weeds and vines hung down from a gathering of stones jutting out of the hill. It was a sort of natural curtain, Josie realized. But no one casually walking by would see it because it was blocked by so many fallen trees and stones, just as Maya had said. Moore pushed aside the mass of greenery and there it was—a crack in the earth. It was irregularly shaped, like a large, person-sized, scalene hexagon. At the base, it was about two feet across, then it widened and narrowed, widened and narrowed, and the top of the entrance was only a foot wide. Crouching, an average-sized person could fit easily through it.

  Moore fit his headlamp onto his head and Nash and Noah did the same. Josie couldn’t look at the opening for another moment. Her breath was coming faster and faster. She took out the GPS device and checked it. She blinked. “We’re not in Lenore County,” she said.

  Noah looked at her. “What’s that?”

  She held out the device. “This is Alcott County. We’re actually in Denton.”

  Moore walked over with Noah to look at the on-screen map. Moore pointed to Josie’s right. “But another half mile that way and you’re back in Lenore County.”

  “But if the caverns are in our jurisdiction, that makes things a little easier. Mark it so we know where the entrance is, would you?” Noah said to Josie.

  She marked the entrance to the caverns on the GPS, hoping that no one saw her hand trembling.

  Moore said, “If the caverns are in your jurisdiction that means you dragged our asses out here for no good reason.” Without waiting for a response, he walked back to the entrance and put one foot through it, his entire lower leg disappearing into blackness. Josie sucked in a sharp breath. Her heart thundered in her chest. The nightmare-memory from last night came rushing back at her, the closet in which she had spent so many hours of her childhood transforming into never-ending darkness. “Just a minute,” Noah told Moore.

  “Give me your headlamp,” he told Josie, his voice low.

  Numbly, she handed it to him. He pretended to check the batteries, and she knew he was buying her time. He spoke so as not to be overheard. “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “We can leave you out here. You can be the lookout in case this hermit isn’t in there and comes in after we’ve gone in.”

  “No,” Josie choked out. “I have to do this. It’s my job.”

  Noah met her eyes. She could tell he wanted to touch her. To comfort her, somehow, but he wouldn’t do it in front of colleagues. She appreciated it even though she wanted nothing more at that moment than to let him wrap her up in his arms and tell her she should stay outside. Only Noah knew the true extent of the damage that Lila Jensen had done to Josie when she was a child. Only he knew about the endless hours locked in closets, the dark enclosed space pressing in on her until she couldn’t breathe.

  “No one questions your ability to do your job, Josie,” Noah said. “One of us has to stay out here. So let it be you.”

  Josie looked over his shoulder to where Moore stood half in and half out of the entrance, chatting with Nash. It was tempting. Noah was right. Neither Moore nor Nash would think anything of it if she volunteered to wait outside. But if she did that, Lila Jensen would win. It would be just one more thing that the woman took from Josie even all these years later. Josie was a police officer. A good one. This was her life. She didn’t have children. She had her job. She would be damned if she let evil Lila diminish that all these years later. Today they were looking for a kidnapper, but one day it might be a missing person, someone in need of help. Would she sit that out as well? She thought of her friend, Misty’s son, Harris. At almost three years old, he had become an important part of her life. She loved that little boy so much, she’d take a bullet for him. What if he was stuck in a dark, enclosed place? Would she stand outside quivering at past trauma?

  “This is my job,” Josie repeated, thrusting her chin at Noah. “I’m damn well going to do it.”

  He smiled at her and she loved him for not looking doubtful. He fitted the headlamp over her hair, adjusting it and then testing it to make sure the light came on. For the benefit of Moore and Nash, he said loudly, “Now it’s working.”

  Josie put the GPS into her pocket and took out her handheld flashlight. She walked over to Moore. “I’m right behind you,” she said. With Noah at her back, she plunged into the darkness.

  Twenty-Five

  Josie was startled by the cold, moist air that gripped her bare arms and the back of her neck as she plunged into the caves. Nash stayed outside. Josie, Noah, and Moore had handheld flashlights as well as headlamps, and the beams from all six light sources bounced chaotically around the area. The entrance was a short tunnel, maybe three or four feet in length, and then it gave way to something larger. Josie could feel the energy, the air around them change, as they moved into a large chamber. She swept her lights around, noting dirty white, yellow, and gray rock formations that looked like melted ice cream and other formations that looked like hundreds of hanging icicles. The ceiling above them was at least twelve feet high in some places, if not more. On the ground was a narrow path that looked like it had been made by someone repeatedly walking back and forth.

  Noah put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped. “It’s just me,” he said. “You okay?”

  She barely heard him over the roar of her own heartbeat, but she nodded. Even wit
h the high, misshapen ceilings and their lights bouncing around, she still felt the familiar clutches of panic enveloping her. She was a child again, locked in the closet, screaming and crying for Lila to let her out. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Lila had promised not to make her go in there. But the darkness and the torture never stopped.

  “What’s that sound?” Moore said, stopping.

  Josie nearly bumped into him.

  “What sound?” Noah asked.

  “Like a whistle,” Moore said. “Is that one of you?”

  It was her. She was starting to hyperventilate. She opened her mouth to say that she was fine, but nothing came out save for a high-pitched wheeze. Again, Noah placed a hand on Josie’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.

  Moore said, “Does she have asthma or something?”

  Or something, Josie thought, but she couldn’t force any words out of her throat.

  Noah said, “Yeah. She’ll be fine. Keep going.”

  As Moore turned and plunged deeper into the caverns, Josie squeezed her eyes closed for a split second. She opened them and concentrated on making her feet move. Noah kept his hand on her shoulder, guiding her forward. “Breathe,” he told her in a whisper. “You’re fine.”

  When she was a child, the boy who would become her late husband, Ray, had given her a backpack full of supplies to keep in the closet for when Lila locked her inside. So she wouldn’t feel alone. Now, she reminded herself, reassured by the weight of Noah’s hand on her shoulder, she wasn’t alone.

  They stepped into another tunnel, this one roomy enough for two people to walk side by side but longer, perhaps twenty or thirty feet, by Josie’s estimation. Maya’s diagram hadn’t been exact, which Josie had expected. Her experience with the hermit had been disorienting and terrifying, Josie was certain, but so far, the descriptions she’d given Moore were accurate. They stepped out into another open area, their feet splashing into water. She looked down, directing her headlamp toward the ground. There was about two inches of water. Moore moved more slowly, sloshing along until he came to the other side, to another tunnel and then another cavern, this one so enormous that Josie’s light didn’t even reach the ceiling above them.

  She shivered and Noah squeezed her shoulder. She thought of one of the last things Ray had said to her before he passed away: the darkness can’t hurt you. His words played on a loop in her mind. Between that and Noah’s firm touch, her breathing started to slow, but only marginally.

  Moore stopped and shone his flashlight overhead. Noah and Josie joined him but even with all their beams trained upward, the light didn’t penetrate the darkness looming over their heads.

  “You think this is it?” Noah asked.

  Again, Josie tried to speak. Inside her mind, there was a logical part still working through their present circumstances. There was one more tunnel, to the left if Maya’s map was correct, and then another large chamber.

  Moore said, “I’m not sure.”

  Josie stepped in front of him, shrugging off Noah’s hand, and veered toward the left. She felt along the uneven surface of the walls with one hand while using the other to direct her flashlight beam. Moore and Noah’s lights bobbed behind her, casting a strange strobe effect all around her. A moment later, she found a small tunnel on the left. Just large enough for her to pass through if she crouched down. Moore and Noah were considerably taller than her so it was a tight squeeze, but she heard them moving behind her. Then the tunnel ended, and her foot stepped into air. She fell, hands out, flying toward the dark gray ground. Both knees struck stone and pain shot up her wrists into her arms.

  Moore and Noah were beside her, lifting her to her feet. “You forgot,” Moore whispered. “Maya said there was a big step into this chamber. But good work. We’re here.”

  Josie nodded, still not able to form words. Her breathing had slowed but her heart rate had not. The three of them looked around at the massive space. Here, too, their flashlights didn’t penetrate the darkness overhead. The smell of a doused fire filled Josie’s nostrils.

  As if reading her mind, Noah whispered, “We’re in the right place.”

  Moore called out into the yawning darkness, “Hello? Sir? It’s the police. We need to speak with you.”

  The silence swallowed his words, but he kept trying. There was no answer and no other sound but Moore’s voice. Josie looked up, panning around her with the headlamp until she saw what looked like steps curving along one wall. They weren’t manmade, just natural places in the stone where the surface had flattened somewhat—enough to hold a person’s feet. She touched Noah’s arm until she had his attention and then pointed.

  “That must be the upper chamber,” he said. “The one Maya called the bedroom chamber. I’ll go up.”

  He caught Moore’s attention and signaled to him that he was going up into the chamber. Moore nodded and followed along. Josie waited below, scanning all around her with her flashlight and headlamp but finding nothing but stone that looked like melted wax. Noah and Moore continued to call out for the hermit as they went up the steps.

  “Police. Come out where we can see you. We need to talk.”

  Without Noah to anchor her, Josie’s breathing began to speed up. Dizziness overtook her. The cavern seemed to spin around her, a vortex of blackness. One hand reached out, searching for wall. She stumbled forward. She was back in the nightmare. The darkness can’t hurt you, said Ray’s voice in her head.

  Noah and Moore’s lights shimmered above her head. Her gaze swept upward, hoping to glimpse them. A noise—something between a grunt and a shout— sounded from somewhere overhead and then she heard something rushing through the air. Every hair on her body felt as though it was on end. Then, something heavy slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground. Her handheld flashlight went flying. She heard her headlamp crack and shatter as her face crashed into the cold stone floor. The light extinguished. Her forehead was on fire, but she realized that the headlamp extending a couple of inches from her head had saved her from far worse facial injuries. There was a great weight on her back. She tried to push herself to her knees but something—no, someone—was on top of her. A smell like dead things and body odor made her gag. Something bristly scraped the back of her neck, and it was then that her throat finally opened. A scream tore from her insides, animal-like and ear-splitting. The knot of panic building in her chest burst, the pain eclipsing every other sensation: the searing abrasion on her forehead, her bruised knees, her sore neck and ribs.

  She was aware of people shouting—Noah and Moore—but her body was too focused on its own terror to process anything they were saying. There was a man on her back. She was in the dark, in an enclosed space, and there was a man on her back. He dragged himself upward like some kind of wet, slithering creature, his weight moving off her hips just slightly, relieving the pressure on her right side. Her legs kicked out, finding only air. Fingers crept up the back of her neck and into her hair. Foul-smelling breath tickled her cheek. Bile rose to the back of her throat.

  “Get out,” said a raspy voice in her ear.

  Josie pushed her right leg up so that she was on her knee, each movement causing excruciating pain in her bones and joints. She put her right palm and forearm on the ground as well and with all her might, she pushed, rolling the man off her. As her body rolled on top of his, she jabbed with her right elbow, again and again, hitting him until she felt bone crack. He let out a grunt. She let the momentum take her, rolling all the way over until she straddled him. By feel, she found his chest and beard. His hands reached up, searching for her throat, but she batted them away, shifting her body upward until her knees rested in the hollows of his shoulders.

  “Stop,” she said, breathless. “Stop moving.”

  Finally, circles of light bobbed all around her. Noah dropped to his knees beside them, his headlamp illuminating the man’s craggy face with its thin features; his long, tangled gray hair, and immense, unruly salt-and-pepper beard. His dark brown eyes bulged at her, fl
ashing with hatred.

  “Help me,” Josie said. “Help me get him on his stomach and cuffed.”

  Twenty-Six

  Josie held Noah and Moore’s handheld flashlights while they took up position on either side of the hermit. His hands were cuffed in front of him. Flanking him, Noah and Moore dragged him along while Josie led the way back through the maze of tunnels and caverns. Her entire body was shaking, and she hoped none of them noticed. The hermit didn’t speak. Moore repeatedly asked him his name but got only silence in return. When Josie finally saw the sliver of daylight at the entrance to the caverns, tears of relief gathered in her eyes. She blinked them away as they emerged into the gloomy daylight.

  They all stopped to take a breath. Noah and Moore sat the hermit on a large stone near the entrance, and Nash stood guard beside him. Rain pelted them but the open air of the forest brought a relief so profound, Josie felt it in every cell of her body. In the daylight, Josie saw that Maya’s description of the hermit had been correct; he looked exactly like someone who had spent decades living alternately in the woods and underground caverns. His wild, uncombed hair had the consistency of straw. A bushy beard that reached to his solar plexus was tangled with leaves and twigs and what looked like food particles snagged in it. His skin was pale but weathered. He wore an old, threadbare T-shirt that Josie thought might have been white at some point over cut-off denim jeans that hung low on his hips. Both were damp. His arms and legs were corded with muscles that rippled with the slightest movement.

  The only thing that Maya hadn’t prepared them for was his overwhelming stink. She had mentioned that he smelled but this was something altogether different. Even out in the open air, his odor radiated from him, stinging her nostrils. She didn’t miss the looks of disgust on her colleagues’ faces either. “This dude needs a shower,” Moore muttered under his breath as he walked past her. He held up his phone, trying to get service.