Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The yawning hole in the side of the mountain is big enough to drive a car into. If you could get a car down here. But the small well-worn trail to the entrance, drops steeply between dense brush and trees.
Rocks scatter down the winding path ahead of me from my hurried stride.
Looks like people visit often, given the wear, but only by foot and only when the weather is good. Unlike today. Soon the rain is going to make access even more treacherous.
After descending for several minutes I finally reach the opening. A damp earthy scent hits me as I walk inside. I haven’t been in many caves but they’ve all smelled the same—like something mysterious and dangerous.
Fortunately for me, my target is just a hundred yards inside the cavernous space, leaning over a rock formation with something bulky in his hands.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
The man from the bar turns to look at me, his expression first shock, then…
Maybe remorse. Maybe resignation.
His forehead creases as his shoulders sag. “I knew you’d come.”
I step deeper into the mouth of the cave, my fists clenched so hard my arms are aching. “Why did you do it?”
He tightens his hold on the pink camouflage backpack in his hand and sighs. “You won’t believe this, but I did it for Marianna.”
Rage barrels through me.
I scream so violently spit flies out of my mouth. “You took everything from her!”
The backpack falls to the floor and his hands snap up into a defensive posture. His arms are shaking and the wrinkled skin on his face is so pale a roadmap of blue veins are visible. “Son…”
“Shut. Your. Damned. Mouth. Don’t call me son. ”
The beast inside of me stretches its wings and growls. I’m going to kill a defenseless old man and not give a FUCK.
Then my mind makes a sickening goddamned correlation. Peter’s close to the age of Mike—the man who saved me.
A good man. A kind man who sacrificed to give a scared, angry teenager a home.
This piece of shit… he’s nothing like Mike.
“You bastard, she trusted you.” I take a stalking step forward. “It’s sickening. You’re nothing but a greedy old man.”
He stumbles over the backpack and looks down. “I’m sorry. Sorry for her pain, but her father was going to use her and that farm against her until the day he takes his last breath. He was going to force her to marry that conniving freak?—”
I kick the backpack furiously, sending it flying across the cave, through a narrow river of water that’s now pouring in.
He grimaces and stutters, “D-don’t break that… It’s got fragile equipment in it.”
Blinded by rage, I seethe at him. “I’m gonna fucking break you for hurting Marianna.”
“Oh my god! Evan!” A blur of gray and yellow streaks past me.
For two seconds I’m confused.
Fighting a snarl, I curse inside my head. She should not be here.
Eyes panicked, wet hair tangled around her face, Marianna stumbles and almost goes down on the mud. “No! No one’s going to hurt anyone. That’s already been done.”
Her voice breaks on the last words. Killing me.
When Marianna wipes a hand over her face, she smears the leftover camo paint and rainwater. Her body’s shaking as she looks me in the eyes. “Evan, we’re going to talk about this. All of it.”
“You need to leave, Marianna.” I’m hoarse, my chest is heaving and the pounding inside my head is so loud the boom of thunder outside the cave barely registers.
As if things aren’t bad enough, Scout steps into my peripheral field of view making me growl against clenched teeth. I told them to keep her safe back at the house until I was done getting to the bottom of this shit.
I’m about to unleash my anger on him when Justice strolls in like he’s on a walk in the park. He looks between us. “Let’s get to the bottom of this before this cave floods and we’re proper fucked.”
Marianna wraps her arms around herself and nervously looks around at the water that’s rushing past us. “We should go. The trail is going to be too slick soon, and this cave floods. It happens very quickly.”
I grab the old man’s arm and push him toward the mouth of the cave. I’m not moving because I’m worried about him, I want Marianna out of here. “Move out.”
He struggles against my hold, pointing toward the mud-covered backpack lying in the rushing brown water. “Don’t leave the bag. There’s an American Passport in it. Allison someone…”