Thorn appeared beside me, looking at the opening. "Looks worn." He knelt down and shined his light into the opening.
"Worn?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, like someone dug it—or at least widened it."
I squatted down to peer into the tunnel as well. "You’re right. That looks like marks where it was scraped at. Animal, perhaps?"
"I don't know of anything that lives around here that would do that," Thorn said reasonably. He knelt down and took his pack off. As I watched in horror, he crawled into the entrance.
I was left with little choice but to follow him. As I dragged my pack through the small tunnel, I began to reevaluate my life. I saw that Thorn was through; I could see his legs waiting just outside the tunnel. I wriggled through the opening, and he gave me a hand.
I dusted myself off. "Not the highlight of my week," I commented.
Thorn nodded as he searched the room with his flashlight. It was not a room at all, I noted finally. We both made a sound of revelation and then looked at each other knowingly as we said in unison, "Mine tunnels."
"Think our ghost miner is in here somewhere?" I asked.
Thorn sighed. "Only one way to find out." He looked at me, and I hesitated. I pointed to the right. He turned; I followed him but kept an eye out behind us. "Why do you keep doing that?" Thorn asked, agitated.
"I just have this feeling we’re being followed," I replied.
Thorn grunted. "That's nice to hear in a creepy old mine tunnel." I smiled. He couldn't see me, of course, but I didn't smile for him. I smiled because his sarcastic remark helped take my mind off the situation at hand.
We walked for what felt like miles. And it probably was miles. I had no idea the direction we were going, but Thorn had a compass, which he said indicated we were moving due west toward Maiden's Peak.
As we approached, I heard a low humming. Thorn said it was likely a vibration, or maybe distant machinery. My mind played me old episodes of childhood detectives discovering illegal mining operations.
I was still pondering it when I stopped. "What's that?" Down the tunnel, there appeared to be a bend, as there was a wall visible. Just about where the bend should be, I saw a dark shape.
Thorn asked, "What’re you talking about?"
"You don't see that shape?" I asked in irritation. "Seriously? It's right there." I shined my light right on top of it. My heart gave a leap, and I startled. Thorn looked at me in confusion. "It moved. It's gone." I flashed my light all around.
Thorn held his hand up in front of his eyes to keep me from blinding him. "Stop that!" He grabbed my flashlight hand, forcing it to point down. "Victor. There’s nothing there."
Thorn swung his flashlight back to the tunnel. Sure enough, there was nothing there. I shook my head. "Man," he said slowly. "I think you are seeing stuff!"
"Well, no shit!" I said in exasperation.
He put his hands on my shoulders. "Maybe the vapors are messing with you down here. That happens in old mines."
I swung my arm—and thereby my flashlight—upward. "I give up!"
As I moved, I let out a strangled sound of surprise. Thorn shone his light toward where I was pointing, back at the bend in the tunnel. "Tell me you see that," I whispered.
Thorn nodded, and then we were running back the way we’d come. Our breaths came in bursts, and the vapors swirled around us. We did not even stop when we passed the small opening in the side of the tunnel. We simply ran. We didn’t look back, lest we stumble; we just ran for what must’ve been a couple more miles past the small opening before I felt cold air. With a renewed burst of energy, we ran toward the entrance of the old mining shaft. Ignoring it altogether, Thorn and I ran straight out into the snow and did not stop until we hit the trees.
We collapsed against the trunks and shined our lights back toward the mine entrance. Nothing was stirring as Thorn led our way through the trees. He checked the compass and began guiding us back toward the truck; it took well over an hour before we saw it. That was about the time we also saw the lights through the branches. They were flickering, and it took me a whole minute to realize that they belonged to a police car. Guess I misinterpreted that part of the dream!
"Put your hands up." The shout came through the air, and Thorn cursed as he raised his hands.
The policewoman asked, "Thorn Durant, is that you? Why are you two up here in the middle of the night? I got a call about some disturbance." She came toward us out of the tree line, shaking her head.
I recognized her as the police officer I’d met in the store a few days ago. I cringed, thinking this really wasn’t going to look good with me being an outsider here.
"We were just up here hiking up Maiden's Peak and got caught after dark," Thorn said as he lowered his hands. I kept quiet. The officer looked like she was considering his story.
"Then why are you coming from the wrong direction?" she asked suspiciously.
"That's kind of my fault!” I chimed in. “I thought I knew where the truck was, but I got us all turned around."
She looked at me, then back at Thorn. "Okay, get out of here. I don't want to see your truck back up here, Thorn. Your mother would have a freakin’ fit if she knew you were up here at night!"
"Yes, ma'am," Thorn said, and we hurried quickly past the police officer. She watched us, then swung her light back the way we had come. As Thorn backed the truck up and left, she headed back to her patrol car.
Once we were back at the cabin, we collapsed in the living room, only budging when Thorn's mother came through. I woke up to her chastising Thorn for not calling when he knew he’d be out last night.
I would have pretended to be asleep, but I must’ve moved when I woke up, because soon enough, she was looking at me. "Mr. Shelton, I hadn’t expected to see you again, but since you were out with Thorn, let me just say that I do hope you two aren't still thinking about that old case. As many people would like to see that the case stays closed as would like to see it reopened. So be careful." She sighed. "Come get some breakfast, the both of you."
Soon enough, we were eating biscuits, sausage, and gravy. It was delicious, but Mrs. Durant kept looking at me as if she were weighing my very soul. I tried to keep the color out of my face as I became self-conscious.
A loud bump on the door heralded the arrival of Oliver, who greeted us all with a smile. "Hello, Victor!" he greeted.
"Morning," I said, sipping my coffee.
"What a surprise," Oliver replied as he got himself some breakfast.
Mrs. Durant said with an accusing tone, "I found them piled up asleep in the living room."
Oliver snorted. "Bit old to be out drinking, aren't you fellas?"
Thorn glared at his brother.
I shook my head. "I don't drink."
Mrs. Durant shushed us all and told us to eat, then got up to start some daily chores. As soon as she was out of the room, Thorn slammed his foot into Oliver's chair.
Oliver just chuckled. "I gather you two are still doing the detective thing? Let me know if you need any research done. I'll be at the paper all today trying to salvage some copy." With that, the plump young man was up and out of the room while still laughing around a sausage that he was eating.
"Oliver knows?" I asked.
Thorn shrugged. "He probably guessed."
After breakfast, we sat around. Neither of us seemed eager to talk. Finally, I broke the silence in the living room. I leaned forward on the couch and looked at Thorn intently but spoke quietly. "We should talk about what we saw."
"Why?" he asked as he toyed with the flip knife he’d pulled out of his pocket.
I took a breath before answering. "Well, for starters, we could decide if we’re crazy."
"I think at this point, a safer bet would be to just determine our level of crazy," Thorn said with ill-timed humor.
I’d rather have shot myself in the foot than tell someone something that they might ridicule me for, but I spoke anyway. "I saw a shape."
Thorn
glanced over at me, dropping the knife. "Well, I saw nothing."
"No. I know you saw something. You said you did!" I countered with irritation, my voice rising a bit before I lowered it again.
"What I meant by that, Victor," Thorn replied with a direct emphasis on my name, "is that I saw blackness. It could have been a shape. I merely saw a place where there was no light. I shined my light at it, and it just went in with no reflection."
"But what can do that?"
"I don't know," he said as he flipped the knife closed and put it back in his pocket. "I'm going to head into town. Do you need a lift?"
"Yeah," I replied as we both stood up. "I need to get my things from the bed and breakfast. Today’s the last day I have there."
Thorn stretched. "I'll go tell Mom that we're taking our leave." He paused and then said, "I'll have to let on like you’re staying on with me as a friend."
I nodded awkwardly. "Okay."
Thorn disappeared upstairs. When the door to the woman's bedroom opened again, Mrs. Durant and Thorn made their way back downstairs together. She gave me a polite smile as she and Thorn walked across the room toward me.
"Mr. Shelton, how’s your book coming?" Mrs. Durant asked graciously.
I smiled. "Writer's block is currently kicking my butt."
"That's terrible to hear. Perhaps the mountain air will inspire you," Mrs. Durant said before excusing herself to go to the kitchen. Thorn gave me a look I couldn’t quite read and then motioned for me to follow him as he made his way out to the truck.
The drive to town was quiet and uncomfortable. It was probably all in my head, but Thorn seemed decidedly quieter. Maybe his mother had scolded him, or maybe he’d decided that this was too dangerous. I shook the thoughts away. All those questions meant nothing, because frankly, I needed Thorn to act as my guide. If my dreams were any indication, he was clearly involved. I again felt that distrust lingering below the surface—whether it was just of myself or the man beside me, I could not tell.
Thorn dropped me off and then went to run some errand. I didn’t pry, and he didn’t offer any unsolicited conversation. Once I was upstairs, I gathered up my things, which really only consisted of one bag and my laptop. I came back downstairs and found Mrs. Morton in the kitchen. After I’d squared away my bill with her, I headed toward Dotty's Kitchen. I was hungry, and Dotty's chili seemed like it would hit the spot.
After trudging through the streets for what felt like ages, I pushed the door open to the diner and heard the bell jingle overhead. Ginger came out of the back and gave me a smile. I tried to return the gesture, but I grimaced and had to set my bag down in a nearby booth. Ginger walked over and eyed my bag. "Heading out?" she asked cheerily.
I sat down in the booth. "No, just checking out of the bed and breakfast," I said. "Besides, I couldn't leave without more of your mother's chili."
Ginger gave a bright smile and looked proud. "It is considered the finest chili in the county. Pardon me...I'll be right back."
I watched the girl go and sighed toward the ceiling. When she returned, she set the bowl of chili in front of me, then surprised me by slipping into the other side of the booth. She gave me a curious look.
"What’s up?" I asked as the girl grinned at me.
"So, where are you gonna stay now?" she asked, as if she were truly interested.
As I stirred the chili to cool it, I shook my head. "With the Durants."
She looked surprised and somewhat sad. But maybe I just imagined the sad part. She said softly, "I didn't know you knew them." She fingered the paper menu that lay on the smooth tabletop.
"I didn't know them until a couple of days ago," I answered her. "I'm writing a story, and it's a good place to do some research on the mountain itself."
Ginger bit her lip. "Oh."
"You know them?" I asked, as I couldn’t contain my curiosity.
She nodded and tucked an errant strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Yeah, you could say that."
I waggled the spoon at her. "See, now you have to tell me the story!"
Ginger laughed, shrugging as a blush rose to her cheeks. "Let's just say I almost was Ginger Durant once upon a time."
I choked on some chili, and Ginger looked at me worriedly. I waved off her concern and beat on my chest, as if it would help dislodge the chili that had gone down the wrong pipe. I finally managed to ask, "How come it didn’t work out?"
"I don't know," she said sadly. "We were high school sweethearts. We dated off and on and finally got engaged. We broke the engagement right before the wedding." She wiped a tear away. "That was four years ago. You'd think I'd be over it, wouldn't you? I just can't seem to get over Oliver."
"Oliver?" I relayed, dumbfounded.
Ginger giggled and hid her mouth behind her hand. "You thought I meant Thorn? Nah, he's too young for me."
"He's older than I am," I said with humor, which caused her to laugh harder.
She shrugged. "Well, I didn't grow up with you; besides, you looked older."
I had no frame of reference, really, not knowing how old I looked. I just shrugged back and ate another spoonful of chili.
"How old are you, anyway?" Ginger asked.
"Twenty-eight," I said between bites.
She sighed. "Everyone's getting younger, except for me."
I gave her a grin as I let the spoon drop back into the bowl. "You really don't look that old. I thought you were younger than me, actually."
Ginger gave me a wistful smile. "Nah, I'm thirty-three."
I waved off her wistfulness. "That's not that much older than me."
"What story are you working on?" Ginger asked, changing subjects. I figured she must have plenty of time on her hands, as the diner was mostly empty.
I gave her a conspiratorial look and leaned over the table. "Can you keep a secret?" She bit her lip and nodded. I continued quietly, "I'm not too sure. I've become interested in the old disappearance case of John and Caroline and pretty much anything to do with Maiden's Peak."
Ginger looked enthralled. "Long time since I heard about that. We were just kids back then. You think there's something to be found?"
"Maybe..." I said noncommittally. "At worst, there's just the foundation for a good story."
"I'd love to help. I've always been fascinated by Maiden's Peak," she said ardently. "My dad was a miner back in the day. He used to tell us all sorts of tales."
I was the one intrigued now. "What sort of tales?"
Ginger giggled a bit when I pulled out my phone and set it on the table to record the conversation. "Wow, on the record and everything."
I flashed her a grin. "I just have a bad memory."
"Well…" She paused, thinking. "We used to be a mining town. You probably already know that, but it was still going somewhat strong when we made the transition over to trying to become a great tourist destination." She waved her hand, as if she didn’t enjoy the tourist trap gig. "Anyway, my dad stayed with the mine all through my childhood, and he’d tell me these wild tales of ghosts and Native American legends."
"What kind of ghost tales?" I asked, my recent experience in the mine at the forefront of my mind.
She hesitated. "My dad never let us talk to people about them. He was a proud man, ya know?"
"I assure you, I’ll keep everything you say to me confidential," I said with sincerity.
Ginger folded her hands on the tabletop. "When I was little, my dad came home one day and made me swear I'd never go to Maiden's Peak. I begged to know why, but he wouldn't say. I overheard him telling my mom later that he'd seen me in the tunnels. He swore he'd chased me for a mile before I vanished." Ginger shivered, and I put my hand on top of her folded hands to comfort her. "I guess he took it as an omen. People around here are a superstitious lot. There's all manner of ghost stories from the area around Maiden's Peak and the old mines."
"Have you ever been there?"
She gave me an impish look and nodded slowly. "Oliver and I were teenagers.
It was fun to rebel. We went up there to, you know...park." She looked at her feet, blushing before she looked back up again. "We never saw anything, but Oliver did try to get me to go in the caves once. I refused at the time, but since then I've wanted to go back. I guess I'm just curious!"
Part of me wanted to tell her about my own adventure in the mines, but that might require explaining what I was doing there in the first place. I judged that I could not risk it. We chatted a bit more before some other customers came in and the place started getting busy. I took the opportunity to slip out of the diner.
As I walked, I replayed her story in my head. I knew locals of tourist towns often mess with visitors, but Ginger had seemed genuine. Her story was at least good fodder for a novel. I mulled over it while I walked.
When I met back up with Thorn that afternoon in front of the bed and breakfast, he had several bags already thrown in the back seat. I assumed it was stuff for his mother. He barely spoke, and I felt more and more uncomfortable as we drove back toward the Durant family home.
"Let me ask you something," I said, and Thorn grunted as he watched the road. "Do you know Ginger from Dotty's Kitchen?"
Thorn glanced at me for a second before nodding. "Yeah, I know her. Why?"
"Well, she was telling me about Maiden's Peak, and I just wanted to know how much I could trust her."
We pulled up in front of the cabin and stopped. Thorn put the truck in park and turned in his seat toward me. "Ginger’s a nice girl. I'd say you could trust most anything she told you, aside from whatever she said about my brother."
I laughed and shook my head. "She said they were engaged at one point. She didn't say anything negative about him."
Thorn nodded. "I didn't think she would. She's still too starry-eyed over him."
"There are worse things," I said, and Thorn seemed to agree, by the look on his face.
When we exited the truck, Thorn got out, and I helped him get the bags into the cabin. We walked in silence toward the house.
Once Thorn had delivered the bags to his mother, he showed me to the guest room. I had to admit, the room was comfortable. After he left, I collapsed over onto the full-size bed and sighed.
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