Chapter Twenty-one
Walker came across the Chevy Malibu
parked haphazardly at the end of the trail. The car was quiet with
none of the ticking to indicate it had been recently driven. With
Callie on a leash, he’d searched the orchards and every outbuilding
on the farm. The only time the dog had alerted to a scent had been
on the road to the mill at the spot where he’d found Delaney’s
phone. She’d followed the scent, nose to the ground, until coming
to a stop when they’d reached the creek. Asshole had probably waded
into the water to throw off anyone following him.
After three hours, they were no closer
to finding her, and he took Callie back to the house. She was all
heart and would’ve kept going until she dropped, but the old dog
was exhausted.
He’d handed her over to a distraught
Clara and set out again. Sawyer reported that all roads from the
south side of the mountain, the side facing Sisters, were covered,
which to Walker meant if he wasn’t holed up somewhere, Fetterly
would go around Payback Mountain to hook up with a road cutting
into the Sierras to the north.
But if he was as out of shape as Cam
had indicated, Walker thought it more likely the fucker would hide
out somewhere he didn’t think he would be found. With that
assumption, Walker had expanded his search to follow roads and
trails farther into the mountains. He’d already checked a couple
old miner’s cabins with no luck.
With the eastern sky behind the
Sierras beginning to lighten and Orion fading above the craggy
peaks, he’d found a car he was dead certain belonged to Jerod
Fetterly.
Walker opened the unlocked passenger
door, shining a flashlight over the trash littering the floor. The
guy was a slob. He yanked open the glove box and pushed around a
bag of sunflower seeds and a bunch of receipts to find the
registration card. The name on the registration was John Smith. Not
particularly original for a fake name.
At last check-in, Sawyer had reported
he’d found food wrappers and scattered sunflower shells under a
tree on the slope behind the north orchard. Why hadn’t Laney come
to him when she thought she was being watched?
She’d been pissed at him, that’s
why.
A vibration in his pocket had him
pulling out his phone to see an unknown number on the
screen.
Phone to his ear, he snapped, “Who’s
this?”
“Keeley Montaigne,
Delaney’s friend.”
“Busy here, Keeley.” His
tone was abrupt. He didn’t have time for a chat.
“Listen, Walker, Mateo
told me Delaney’s missing. He said there’s a rumor it could be
Jerod Fetterly and law enforcement thinks he might be holed up in
the mountains with her. If it’s him, I have an idea where he might
have taken her.”
“Listening.”
“In high school, the
stoner kids used to party in an old gold mine up on Payback
Mountain. They’d drink and smoke weed, probably do other
things.”
“And?” His mind was
already jumping ahead. He’d known about the abandoned mine, and his
teenage self would probably have checked it out if his grandfather
hadn’t ridden his ass so hard.
“Jerod was one of the
stoner kids. If he wanted a place to hide out, he might take
Delaney there. It’s near the swimming hole.” Her voice cracked and
she did that sniffing thing women did when they were trying not to
cry.
“I’ll check it out. And
Keeley?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Find her, Walker. Find
her before he hurts her.”
“I will.” He prayed it
wasn’t an empty promise.
He called Sawyer, gave him
registration info and the license plate number of the car, and
filled him in on what Keeley had told him.
“I can’t talk you into
waiting for backup.” Sawyer’s statement wasn’t a
question.
“I’ve got a good idea
where that mine is, and I’m closer than anyone else. I’m not
waiting.”
“Be careful,
brother.”
With his phone in his pocket, he
forced himself to slow down enough to do a quick search of the car
for anything useful. He grabbed an unopened water bottle from the
backseat and a package of peanut butter crackers from the side
pocket of the door. Then the flashlight beam caught a metallic
gleam from between the passenger seat and center console. Reaching
down, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Figuring they could be
useful, he pocketed the cuffs, took a swig of water, then capped
the bottle and shoved it and the crackers into a cargo pocket. Then
he set off.
From where the car was parked, the
trail narrowed, zigzagging in a couple switchbacks before rounding
a fold in the mountain. Walker remembered the trail eventually
crossed a stream, following along the bank until it came to a
waterfall.
The pool at the base of the waterfall
was the swimming hole Keeley had mentioned. He’d have to be careful
not to miss the path to the mine that, if he remembered correctly,
snaked off the main trail about a quarter mile before the
stream.
He set out at a trot, moving as fast
as he dared through the shadowy darkness. The eastern sky was
lightening, but he still needed the flashlight, the beam
illuminating only a few feet in front of him. So much for stealth.
Anyone watching would see him coming.
A powerful sense of urgency kept him
moving, sweeping the light back and forth, looking for the turnoff
to the mine.
He tried to keep his mind focused on
navigating the path and getting to Laney, refusing to consider the
possibility Keeley’s tip might be wrong.
Thoughts of what that fucker Fetterly
could be doing to Laney worked their insidious way into his
brain.
His woman wasn’t helpless. She was
smart and had more than enough guts to fight back. But Fetterly
liked raping women and he liked carving them up. Walker had the
sick feeling that for Fetterly, capturing Laney was the ultimate
prize.
Still moving, Walker took another swig
of water. He rounded a bend and was met with the sound of rushing
water. Shit, he’d missed the path to the mine. Cursing himself for
the wasted time, he backtracked, forcing himself to slow down.
Finally, he spotted what wasn’t much more than an animal track, and
took the winding path to the mine.
With the sun rising, he switched off
the flashlight, pushing himself on.
The path wound up a slope strewn with
huge boulders before leveling off. He skidded to a stop when he
realized what looked like haphazard piles of rocks were actually
tailings, piles of debris from inside a mine. Moving with a minimum
of sound, he skirted the tailings, searching for the mine entrance.
Some were nothing more than a hole in the ground, while others were
reinforced with timber or stone. With the quantity of tailings,
this mine entrance had to be big enough for the miners to cart out
dirt and rock.
He spent ten frustrating minutes
searching before coming to a stop.
The sun was now visible over the
mountains so he forced himself to slow down and use the light to
look for other signs to indicate where the mine opening might
be.
A path, footprints, a goddamn arrow
pointing him in the right direction. He’d take anything.
Then his attention caught on something
out of place, the wrong color for the natural environment. He bent
to retrieve what looked like trash. A Slim Jim, still in its
wrapper. He looked carefully at an area where boulders seemed to
sprout out of the ground and realized what he thought was a tall
bush was actually brush dragged in front of the juncture of several
boulders.
Pulling them aside, he found the
entrance to what looked like a talus cave. He whipped out his phone
to send Sawyer a text letting him know what to look for.
Zero cell service. Damn.
Plan B, he set down the Slim Jim,
arranging it so it might as well be an arrow pointing in the right
direction. With his flashlight again guiding the way, he stepped
into the cavern created by tumbled boulders. Jumbled in a niche, he
spotted an old oil lantern, the metal reservoir oxidized, and the
rusted blade of a shovel with no handle.
In the fine dirt on the floor were
footprints, man sized and from the same pair of shoes, coming and
going several times.
Gotcha, you
fucker.
***
Delaney ran as fast as she dared, a
hand on the dirt wall guiding her, afraid at any moment she’d trip
over some unseen object and break a leg, but even more afraid of
Jerod Fetterly pursuing her, wielding the pickax. She’d hurt him,
she knew she had. He might be dead with the pickax stuck in his
throat, but he’d been moving when she’d swung, reeling to the side,
and her momentum meant she couldn’t direct the pointy end of that
axe as well as she would’ve liked.
An indistinct noise echoed through the
tunnel. She couldn’t identify it, much less where it came from, but
it spurred her to move faster. Her outstretched hand following the
dirt wall suddenly plunged into nothing and she skidded to a halt.
Backtracking, she found the wall again and felt where it angled
right. Was this the main tunnel leading to the entrance, or a
mineshaft heading deeper into the mine?
Another thud sounded behind her.
Looking over her shoulder, her heart sank when she saw a faint
glow. Fetterly was alive and he was coming after her.
She’d been unconscious when he’d
brought her into the mine, so she had no way of knowing how deep
they were or which direction to take. But either way was safer than
staying where she was.
Moving across the open space, she
bumped against the wall on the far side. Using her hand on the wall
as a guide, she moved. Another fifty yards and she paused. Did the
air smell fresher? Less damp?
Hope surged and she moved
faster. Then her foot caught on an unseen object and she stumbled
to her knees, catching herself on her hands. She let out a startled
shriek when something furry, something alive, skittered over an
outstretched hand. Oh god, there were rats in the mine.
She really was in a horror
movie.
She lurched to her feet, only to see
stars when she bashed the side of her forehead solidly against what
she could only guess was a low beam.