15. Daisy
Chapter fifteen
Daisy
Scott and Vinny carry several bags of groceries up the hill, giving a nod to Bennett as he passes by them. Angel and Owen offer their assistance, but the bulging biceps on both of the older men mean they’ve opted to carry all the bags in one trip.
“That’s one way to get in a workout,” I joke.
Once all the bags fill the countertop, table, and any other available space, Vinny glances at the envelope in my hand. “Whatcha got there?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet,” I tell him. “What if it’s a bomb?”
Angel chuckles. “It would be the smallest bomb ever made if it’s in a flat envelope.”
“It could contain anthrax or another deadly toxin,” I say. I’d only meant it as a joke, but the seriousness on everyone’s face lets me know that it’s a real possibility.
My face contorts as I drop the envelope on the floor and take a step back, now nervous about what could be inside.
Owen laughs at me as he picks it up. “I wish I could capture your face for posterity. It’s priceless. Alas, my phone is on the desk, so my memory will just have to do.”
“You’re a dweeb, you know that?”
“But I’m a dweeb who’s related to you, so that makes you a dweeb too. It’s called genetics,” he says as he flips the envelope over and then frowns. “There’s no return address, nor is it postmarked. Scott, can you please grab the print kit from under my bunk?”
Scott returns moments later with the kit, handing Owen and me each a pair of gloves. “Whoever sent it didn’t want it traced back to them, which means they were careful. I doubt there will be prints on the envelope itself, but we might get lucky with the contents inside.”
“We have a camera over the entrance to Barbara’s office. It’s where we checked in. We could comb through the footage and see who dropped it off,” Vinny says.
I slip on the gloves and use my pocketknife to cut across the seam at the top.
The only thing inside is a photo taken at night using a night vision lens.
The image is green and somewhat grainy, but it’s clearly of a man wearing a coat, pack, and black ski mask entering what looks like an old mine.
The timestamp is from a week ago, well before we arrived.
Unfortunately, we can’t identify him from the photo.
A smile stretches across my face as we finally have a lead. I hand the picture to Angel, who passes it around. “I don’t know who sent this, but they’re clearly on our side. We need to find out where that mine is and do a little exploring.”
Vinny studies the picture. “Angel, does this look like the entrance to the abandoned Hemlock Mines ten miles west of here?”
Angel puts on a pair of gloves and scrutinizes the photo, pointing at two tiny letters in the corner of the dilapidated wooden frame around the opening.
“I can’t be sure without a magnifying glass, but I’d bet my paycheck those initials are J.C.
for Jordan Conway. I remember my brother carving them when we went exploring the tunnels.
But the Hemlock Mines have been closed since the cave-in that happened during Jordan’s senior year.
About fifty feet in, the tunnel is blocked off. ”
“We should definitely find out if that’s still the case,” I say as I bounce on my toes.
“We’ve been so busy looking for caves around Crater Lake and at higher elevations that the thought of searching west didn’t even occur to us.
It wouldn’t be difficult to get a map of the mines and scout locations prior to an abduction.
It’s a perfect spot to hide for a week!”
Owen goes over to his computer, and with a few keystrokes, the information for Hemlock Mines is glaring back at us.
“It says here that there were 32 miles of tunnels before the mine officially closed in 1948. It was a major producer of gold during the rush in the 1850s. Due to the depleted metal deposits and unstable tunnel network, it was one of hundreds of mines closed because of safety concerns. In 2007, the east entrance collapsed, trapping three hikers for nearly a week and resulting in the deaths of Samuel Hollingsworth, Jolene Ayers, and Byron McGee.”
“That’s the collapse I was referring to,” Angel says.
“They were day hikers who hadn’t told anyone where they were going, which is the worst thing you can do if you decide to take the risk and explore the mines.
For the most part, the mines are relatively safe, but Oregon has nearly 53,000 fault lines ranging from only a few miles long to ones that span from California into Washington or Canada.
On that day, there was a 2.3 earthquake—barely noticeable—that shifted the ground just enough for a support beam to come loose and drop several tons of rock near the entrance, trapping them underneath. ”
Owen looks at me, his gaze becoming very pointed. “I can see it written all over your face, Daisy. You want to take the risk. I highly advise against it.”
“You know me so well,” I tease. “Look, when Angel and I go into the mines, you’ll know where we are.
We’ll go in prepared for the worst and praying for the best. Someone sent us that picture for a reason.
” Against my nature, my tone sounds like I’m begging when I add, “We need to find out why, and we’re running out of time. ”
Hefting my Gregory pack onto my back, I ask, “Should we call Bennett and let him know what we’ve discovered?”
Angel checks the batteries in his flashlight before placing it in his bag, then double-checks that his headlamp is functioning properly. He hands me spare batteries for my headlamp, which I place in my side cargo pocket. “We haven’t discovered anything yet.”
I function-check my modified weapon before placing it in my thigh holster. If we come across the man in the photo, we want to question him. A simunition round to the leg should do the trick. “That’s not true. When we went back and checked the footage, we saw who delivered the envelope.”
“We didn’t see her face clearly,” Angel says. “It’s like she knew the camera was there and purposely avoided looking at it.”
I hold up my finger. “Yes! But we know it’s a female, not Kenneth or Brad!”
Owen comes over and hands me a map of the tunnels. “I want to go on record and say this is a horrifically horrible idea. It’s bad enough you want to explore the tunnels at all, but to do it at night?”
Angel steps in front of me, his posture protective.
“I explored the tunnels plenty of times growing up and know my way around, including some of the tunnels that aren’t on the map and secret entrances that have been dug over the years.
And while it is dangerous, it’s no more so than going rock climbing or bronc riding.
Yet people do those things every day. The key is to tread carefully and be prepared. ”
Owen doesn’t look even remotely satisfied by that explanation. “What if there’s another cave-in?”
I reach over my shoulder and tap the top of my pack. “Then we have supplies, and you know where to find us. You have our planned route.”
My brother hugs me awkwardly since I have the pack on my back and whispers in my ear. “I almost lost you once, Daisy Chain. I don’t want to ever go through that again. You hear me?”
Squeezing my arms around his waist, kissing his cheek, and stepping back, I say, “Our days are numbered, Owen. I have no control over that. But I promise that we’ll be as safe as we can and make the ones we have left count for something. Danger is part of our profession, but stupidity is not.”
Rather than tell him that I empathize with his plight when the roles are reversed, I tell him I pray for him every night before I go to bed.
I have done so since the day he left home for the Army.
Even though he’s a highly-competent FBI agent, I always knew there might be a phone call in the middle of the night; the kind of acall no family member ever wants to get.
However, I won’t ever ask him to stop doing what he loves, and neither will he ask me to give up my mission.
It’s why he’s letting me go without much of a fight.
It takes Angel and me nearly an hour to reach the mines ten miles to our west as we traverse dirt roads and trails to get there.
Upon our arrival, we’re greeted by a ten-foot electrified chain-link fence with numerous signs warning us to keep out and that trespassers can face a penalty of up to $50,000 and jail time.
I use the comm device in my ear to relay our arrival. “We’re here.”
Expecting my brother to be the one to reply, I’m surprised when it’s Scott.
“Roger that. Stick to the path you’ve chosen.
If anything goes wrong, we should know exactly where to find you.
Owen is currently tracking your location.
Once you’re inside the tunnels, it won’t be long before there’s enough earth and rock overhead to block the signal, and we’ll lose comms.”
“Copy,” Angel replies for us both.
We dismount the ATVs and make our way along the fence, which has angled extensions along the top to prevent anyone from climbing over.
We walk about a hundred yards until we come to a spot where the chain-link has been cut.
Angel turns on his headlamp and inspects the opening where the galvanized steel has been snipped with cutters strong enough to handle high-tensile wire.
“This is where the man in the photo entered. If you notice here, you’ll see that….”
“That the cuts are fresh because the exposed steel is still bright and hasn’t started oxidizing,” I say.
Angel looks at me with an expression that suggests he’s impressed with my assessment. “That’s correct. The rest of the fence has been exposed to the elements for close to twenty years. Those cut edges haven’t.”
I squat down and shine my light on the snow-covered ground, which is only an inch thick here. Pointing toward the path that leads to the entrance, I add, “You’ll also notice that there aren’t any boot prints in the fresh snow, but there are….”
“Indentations where the older prints were filled in,” Angel says. “That means someone came through before the last snowfall.”
Owen’s voice comes through the line. “Are they really finishing each other’s sentences already?”
Vinny replies, “Yep, and it’s not the first time. It’s cute, right?”
My brother grunts. “That’s one word for it.”
“We’re going in,” I say to diffuse the side conversation.
“Be careful,” Scott says, joining in. “Stay vigilant.”
I draw my weapon and keep it in the low-ready position, turning my head slowly from left to right to allow the light from my headlamp to illuminate the tunnel walls. “Wilco,” I say, using the term my brother taught me from his military days that means “will comply.”
Inside the tunnel, there are more boot prints in the dirt. Angel removes his phone to snap a picture, placing his Glock 22 beside one of them for size reference. With the gun being just shy of eight inches long, he says, “I’d say it’s roughly a size eleven boot.”
Squatting down to get a closer look, I notice deep lugs in the tread and a triangle pattern in the heel. “How fitting. It almost resembles the DAG logo.”
“Purely coincidence, I’m sure,” Angel replies. “It’s the tread from a Lowa Renegade. It’s a pricey but very comfortable hiking boot. I have a pair myself and rarely go hiking without them.”
“So, we’re looking for someone with expensive taste. I guess that takes Brad out of the running,” I joke.
“It’s an expensive boot for sure, but a quality investment. I wouldn’t discount him just yet.”
We walk a little farther and see the remnants of the cave-in along with three small crosses where the day hikers lost their lives.
Rocks of all sizes line the tunnel walls as a reminder that our situation is just as precarious.
I relay our position to the team back at the cabin. “The entrance has been cleared.”
A quarter of a mile in, Owen’s voice comes through broken and unreadable. “Southern Kn… on… flight… here… hours….”
“Say again. I repeat, say again.”
“We’re under fifty feet of solid rock, Daisy. We’re on our own from here.”
I huff. “Do you speak garble? I want to know what my brother was saying.”
Continuing slowly down the path, Angel says, “In fact, I do. The Southern Knights are on a flight and will be here in X number of hours. My guess is five or six since they’re coming from Charleston.”
We walk a little farther, stepping over more debris that has shaken loose over the years. “Angel, why did you slip a tracker into Bennett’s suit coat before he left? Don’t you trust him? After all, you worked for the same agency.”
“I do and I don’t. Daisy, Bennett isn’t here to help us in the way you want. He had pictures of forty girls, far more than what we knew of. I’m sure it didn’t escape your notice that your picture was among them. It surely didn’t escape mine.”
“It did, but it would make sense because I was abducted.”
“But why have the picture if you’re supposed to be dead?
While you were busy looking at the photos Bennett was placing in front of you, I was looking at Bennett.
He was watching you for a reaction when he slid yours across the table.
You gave him one when your breath hitched.
I believe he suspects that you and Sadie are related in some way, but he’s not sure how yet.
He may even suspect you are Sadie. I might be wrong, but I don’t think I am. ”
“That doesn’t explain why you put a tracker on him.”
We come to a cavern where several tunnels branch out.
Angel shines his headlamp on the walls and then looks just past me so the light doesn’t blind me.
“I guess I wanted to see where he goes and if he was telling the truth about having to go to Langley. For a split second, the thought crossed my mind that he works for Dominion.”
It hadn’t crossed mine until he just said that. “Well, he went to Langley like he said. The last known position you had for him was in a parking lot at CIA headquarters.”
Angel nods. “Yeah, but I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”
His face suddenly goes pale when his light shines toward the spot where the wall meets the ground. I turn around and see wires running along the edges. It’s only then that we notice a faint red glow coming from one of the tunnels on the opposite side.
Angel tells me to stay put while he goes to check it out. I wait for a full minute until his light bobs up and down as he sprints toward me.
“Countdown timer! It’s a trap!”
He tackles me and covers my head as five explosions detonate in sequence. The ground shakes and rumbles beneath us while rocks rain down from the ceiling and pepper us with debris.
It’s more than a trap. It’s a death sentence.