Third Grave Dead Ahead (31 page)

“It would be difficult to just lay there and be eaten alive, huh?”

“Ya think?”

I stumbled up the trail and found a rustic hunting cabin with a carved sign that read
YOST.
After trying the door and finding it locked, naturally, I accidently broke a window. I had neither the time nor the inclination for locksmithing. A woman’s life was at stake. Dr. Yost could bill me.

Finding nothing out of the ordinary inside, I walked the perimeter of the house, searching for a basement or other underground structure while the little girl with the kitchen knife followed me. She was a curious lot. I turned to her and knelt down, hoping I wouldn’t inadvertently get stabbed in the eye.

“Wednesday … do you mind if I call you Wednesday?” Receiving no answer, I asked, “Do you see any kind of an underground structure?” Her arms hung rigid at her sides, one hand clutching on to the knife like her life depended on it, and she stared straight past me, her ashen face almost afraid. I decided to make physical contact, but when I went to touch her shoulder, she disappeared. Naturally. She reappeared on the hood of a four-wheeler, standing at attention, staring into nothing.

I stepped over to study it just as my phone rang. It was Nathan Yost.

“Hello, Ms. Davidson?” he asked when I answered.

“This is Charley.”

The ATV looked pretty beat up, but most four-wheelers did. This one was a utility ATV with an electric winch and cable on the back.

“This is Nathan Yost. I was just wondering if you’ve had a chance to look over my wife’s case.”

While the winch looked relatively new, the part of the ATV it was attached to was broken, like the doctor had used it on something really heavy. Unless he was trying to pull trees out by the roots, I couldn’t imagine what he’d need a winch for. But, admittedly, I wasn’t a guy. Winching was apparently a guy thing. As was wenching.

“I’m looking into it right now, Doctor.” I scanned the area again.

“So, you’ll take the case?” he asked, trying really hard to sound excited.

“Absolutely.”

Nothing else on the property seemed out of the ordinary. It was a nondescript cabin, and though it had electricity and running water, it was actually a little lower key than what I’d expected the billionaire doctor to have. Inside was a variety of camping paraphernalia, lanterns, sleeping bags, climbing equipment, rope.

“Thank you,” he said, forcing relief into his voice. “Thank you so much.”

“I’m happy to do it. I’ll call you the minute I know something.”

“Thank you again.”

After hanging up, I trudged about the place for a solid hour and decided the whole trip had been a complete waste of time. My last cup of coffee was wearing thin as I stumbled back to the Taurus. I looked off in the distance and saw Wednesday again, her back to me, staring into the side of a mountain. With any luck, she’d stay there.

After digging the phone out of my pocket, I called Cookie.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“Does bad count?”

“Damn. I was really hoping we were on to something.”

“Bear!” I screamed when I saw a real live bear lumbering through the trees.

“Oh, my god! Stop, drop, and roll!”

“What?” I asked, keeping my eyes locked on to it. I’d never seen one outside of a zoo. I suddenly felt sweet and salty. Maybe a little crunchy.

“Just do it!” she shouted.

“Stop, drop, and roll? That’s your solution to a bear attack?” I asked as I unlocked her Taurus and climbed inside.

“No, wait, that’s if you’re on fire, huh?”

Just as I started to close the door before the bear made a U-turn and decided to brunch on my innards, I felt it. A heartbeat, faint. Fear, a little stronger. I quieted and stepped back out of the car.

“Cookie, wait, I feel something.”

“Did he get you?” she asked, almost screaming in panic. We totally needed to get outdoors more.

“No, hon, just wait a sec.” I stepped closer to the trees and scanned the area for Teresa, all the while keeping an eye out for the bear.

“What? Is it her?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I felt a pulse of fear.”

“Yell!” she yelled, scaring the bejesus out of me.

I struggled to keep hold of the phone, then placed it back at my ear. “Cookie, holy cow.”

“Sorry, I got excited. Yell, maybe she can hear you.”

“But won’t the bear hear me, too?”

“Yes, but they can’t understand English.”

“Right. I’ll try that,” I said, stepping back to the car. “I’ll call you if I find anything.”

“Wait, I’m on my way.”

“What?” I asked, completely taken off guard. “You’re on your way here?”

“Yep.”

“In what? The space shuttle?”

“I stole the extra set of keys off your fridge.”

“Did you happen to notice the needle pointing to the really big
E
?”

“I got gas before I left.”

Score.

“And you ditched Garrett again, remember? He doesn’t have a phone, thanks to you. I just don’t want you to almost get killed alone again. You always almost get killed alone. Though the bear thing will be new.”

“That’s not true. I almost got killed by a bear when I was twelve. Its name was Uncle Bob. There was a wasps’ nest. He panicked. And you were with me the last time when that fake FBI agent chased us down the alley with a gun. We almost got killed then. The two of us.
Together.
”

“Oh, that’s right. I never understood why he kept shooting that building across the alley from us.”

“He was a bad shot,” I said, keeping an eye on the horizon for an oversized ball of fur. It would be just like me to be mauled to death by a bear.

“Good thing he couldn’t shoot. Then again, neither can you. Have you ever considered taking classes?”

“You know, I have,” I said, checking Cookie’s trunk. “I was thinking pottery or maybe basket weaving. Don’t tell me you don’t have a flashlight.”

“I don’t have a flashlight.”

“A first aid kit?”

“Nope. Just wait for me,” she said. “I’ll be there in no time, and Misery has everything. She’s like a sporting goods store.”

“I don’t want to lose Teresa. She can’t be far. I’ve never felt someone’s emotions over a long distance. Just call me when you get here.”

“Fine. If anyone attacks and tries to kill you, including the bear, ask them to wait for me.”

“You got it.” I closed the phone and the trunk and, well, I yelled. “Teresa!” I called out. Nothing. I walked back up the trail, stopping every so often to call out to her. Admittedly, I didn’t yell as loud as I probably could have. That bear thing freaked me out.

Wednesday was still staring at the side of the mountain, and that seemed to be as good a direction as any. Then I felt it again. A whisper of fear, feathering over me like a trickle of water.

“Teresa!” I screamed, this time with heart. And it hit me. Hard. A blast of fear and hope rolled into one.

I called Cookie again as I ran toward the sensation. “I think it’s her,” I said, breathless with excitement.

“Oh, my god, Charley, is she okay?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t found her yet, but I can feel someone. Call Uncle Bob and Agent Carson and get them out here ay-sap. You were right. The cabin is up that trail. I’m heading to a hilly area just east of it, look around there.”

“Okay, got it. I’ll summon the cavalry, you just find her.”

I closed the phone and called out Teresa’s name again. The blast of fear I felt was quickly evaporating, being replaced entirely by a surge of hope that felt like a cool wind rushing over my skin. Then I remembered I had exactly zero survival gear. Hopefully, I wouldn’t need any.

I ran past Wednesday, and asked, “You couldn’t have mentioned this?”

She didn’t respond, but I saw what she was looking at. A mine. An honest-to-goodness, boarded-up old mine. I had no idea there were any mines in this area. And, naturally, I didn’t have a freaking flashlight. My lack of forethought when I’d left the apartment that morning, knowing I was going to be combing a mountainside, astounded me.

Not wanting to waste any time, I texted Cookie the location of the mine’s entrance before winding my way toward it through the tree line. It was super dark inside, so I opened my phone. It shed just enough light to illuminate the uneven ground as I ducked inside, climbing through the partially boarded opening. For a mine, the opening was small. I thought they’d be bigger. Once inside, ancient support beams lined the walls and the skeletal remnants of a track led me deeper into the narrow tunnel. This was certainly a good place to dispose of a body. Is that what he’d done? Tried to kill her, then, believing she was dead, dumped her body here? Surely not. He was a doctor. He’d have known if she were dead.

I followed the railway tracks about five minutes before they stopped abruptly. The tunnel came to a dead end, a layer of rock and dirt blocking the way, and my heart sank. I turned in a circle, searching for another opening. Nothing. I was wrong. Teresa wasn’t in here. Then I realized the fall was fresh, the earth and rocks hadn’t settled as they would have over time.

“Teresa,” I said, and a layer of dirt fell from overhead. The place was about as stable as a circus performer on a high wire. But I felt her again, closer this time. I climbed up the incline, stumbling and scraping my hands and knees.

At the very top was the faintest opening. I tried to look in, to no avail.

“Teresa, I can feel you,” I said as loudly as I dared. “I’ll get help.”

Her fear resurfaced, and I realized she didn’t want me to leave her alone. “I won’t leave you, hon. Don’t worry.” I tried my phone, but we were too deep to get a signal. Looking back at the opening, I asked, “Where’s your brother, Luther, when we need him? He’s a big guy.”

I heard a weak, breathless chuckle. She was so freaking close, I could almost touch her. Right there. Right past the opening, as though she’d climbed up it as well and tried to dig her way out.

“Are you hurt?” I asked, but received only a moan in response. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

Surely Cookie would bring the cavalry soon. I wanted to call her, have her get the flashlight out of Misery when she arrived, but I didn’t want to leave Teresa. Since I had nothing better to do, I decided to move some of the rocks and try to climb to her. With meticulous care, I started taking rocks off the top and chucking them softly to the side. I lost my footing more than once and slid down, scraping my palms and legs on the jagged rocks even through my jeans. And each time, I held my breath, hoping the whole thing wouldn’t come down on us.

After about fifteen minutes, I had cleared enough of an opening to reach my arm through. I felt around blindly and touched hair. Then a hand locked on to mine and I squeezed.

“My name is Charlotte,” I said, relief flooding my body. “Did I already say that?”

She moaned, and I lay against the jagged incline for what seemed like hours, holding her hand, waiting for help to arrive. I whispered words of encouragement, told Teresa about my encounter with her brother. She laughed weakly when I mentioned that I’d called him an asshole.

Finally, after getting the pleasantries out of the way, I asked the million-dollar question. “Teresa, do you know how this happened?”

The emotion that spiked within her was the polar opposite of what I’d expected. It had me questioning everything I’d learned, everything I knew about the doctor. Because the sensation that radiated out of her with such force that my breath caught in my chest was not fear or anxiety, but guilt. Sorrowful, regret-filled guilt. I waited a moment, analyzed what she was feeling, until I heard a meek, “No. I don’t know what happened.”

Shame consumed her and shock consumed me. I didn’t know what to say. If I were reading her right, she did this. It was somehow her fault. But that couldn’t be. There was simply no way she’d done this to herself. Why would she?

And I had felt guilt so clearly on her husband, too. So deeply, he reeked of it.

I didn’t ask her anything further, and let her rest as I mulled over the new chain of events in my mind. Was it a botched suicide attempt? What could she have had to gain by killing herself in such a way? Why not just take a bottle of pills? Her husband was a doctor, for heaven’s sake. And even if she’d set the whole thing up, how did one go about causing a cave-in? Maybe she was feeling guilty because she’d accidently caused the collapse. But her guilt was much more than that. Her shame much stronger.

“Charley?”

I blinked to attention and saw Cookie stumbling along the tracks with her phone open to light the way. Clearly she hadn’t taken advantage of Misery’s sporting goods department.

“I’m right here. There’s been a cave-in.”

She stopped and looked up. “My goodness. Is she under that?”

“I think she’s on it, but she’s hurt. Did you get ahold of Uncle Bob?”

“Yes, and Agent Carson.” She leaned against the mine wall, her breathing labored from her trek.

“What on planet Earth are you wearing?” I asked when I noticed the leg warmers around her ankles.

“Don’t start with me. How did this happen?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“The mine just collapsed?”

“With Teresa in it.” I thought that would get an emotional response from Teresa, but I got nothing, and I realized her hand had gone limp. “I think she passed out. We need to get her some water, and I need a flashlight.”

With my eyes adjusted to the low light, I could just make out what Cookie was leaning against. A loose support beam. “Cookie, you might not want to do that,” I said, just as the beam slipped and the world came crumbling down around us.

22

If all hell breaks loose, blame gremlins.

—T-SHIRT

A low rumbling echoed against the cavernous walls as rocks and dirt broke free from the ceiling. I reflexively covered my head with an arm and watched the landslide from underneath my elbow. The amount of earth that dropped straight away astonished me, as though it had been floating in a vacuum all this time, when fate decided to give gravity a kick start. My stomach lurched at the sight, and in an instant, time slowed until it barely crept forward, like a turtle struggling against a category 5 hurricane.