30
Mandy was hitting a wall, the past three sleepless nights catching up with her.
Debs from the FAIR lab had finally arrived with an assistant to sort out bones for as long as the snow held off.
Major Crimes and the ME’s office planned on arriving the following day, in order to avoid the worst of the weather.
So many official people with big, important titles descending upon one tiny mountain town.
Mandy was grateful the victims warranted such attention.
Good for them, in an ironic sort of way.
But fuck it all, she’d sell her soul for a few minutes’ rest.
It didn’t help that Mason had been blowing up her phone since oh-dark-thirty.
Demanding to know what the volunteer firefighters were doing.
Accusing Raquel Collins of theft and asserting she should be arrested and said property returned immediately.
Then, as the sky had lightened and the town began buzzing with speculation, insisting on a thorough update on behalf of the entire community.
Mandy currently had that filed under things to do when she was dead.
This particular section of jutting granite was surrounded by woods, per New Hampshire geography 101. Austin’s crew had quickly identified a path from the road above that led down to the base of the ledge much more efficiently than driving through Raquel and Theo’s property.
Now Mandy trudged up the trail to her vehicle.
She was thinking of old crimes, new happenings.
Mentally processing a literal field of bones, while also seeking to understand various ancillary findings—a rusted-out metal lock that spoke of centuries past, a faded granola bar wrapper that hinted at century present.
People had known about the cave, that much was true.
And then…they hadn’t?
Austin had disappeared the moment the anthro had arrived on scene. Mandy had never seen the fire chief so rattled. “The entire family…in a cave? Makes no sense, makes no sense. Makes no sense.”
Mandy had always assumed locating the Dixon family would provide a sense of closure. Finally, this is what happened. If anything, she, Austin, hell, the entire community soon enough, was even more bewildered than before.
By the time Mandy reached her SUV, she was seriously dragging. She plunked down in the front seat, and while she knew it wasn’t strictly professional, tilted her hat forward to obscure her eyes. Ten minutes, if she could just get ten minutes—
“It’s true then? You found the Dixons?”
Mandy opened her eyes to discover Detective Adams standing outside her window. But of course.
She tiredly popped open her door and prayed the frigid temperatures would slap her back to consciousness. Kinda sorta worked.
“The experts will have to render that verdict. But between you and me…I can’t think of any other explanation.”
Adams nodded. He was dressed as a civilian, in a mishmash of well-used winter gear. He’d said he spent a lot of time in the area. Certainly, he now looked it.
“But we’re not on the property?” Adams questioned.
“Yes and no. I discovered the cave via the Dixon homestead. I’d peg it at a twenty- to thirty-minute walk across their fields and up through the woods. Or, it can be accessed from the road we are on now in five minutes or less. What that means…I’ll tell you when we figure it out.”
Adams nodded. He appeared pensive. No, upon close examination he looked tense and anxious.
The Dixons’ disappearance was the holy grail of cold cases.
She was willing to bet Adams had spent his entire professional career studying it, obsessively pursuing leads only to hit a wall time and time again. And now, here they were.
It didn’t matter how exhausted she felt. This mattered. To the family, the town, the greater public consciousness. Three decades later, it was time to bring the Dixons home again.
“Come on,” she said. “I’ll take you there.”
Adams fell in step behind her, descending through the woods. As they approached, he slowed considerably. At first, she thought the rough terrain was bothering his prosthetic. Then she realized it was something else as he halted altogether.
“I’ve…I’ve never been good with caves,” he admitted, gazing up at the narrow opening. “I don’t know. Just never been my thing.”
“The opening isn’t as tight as it looks. And the cavern itself…a virtual ballroom. Aladdin-esque in its wonders. Which is to say, no way someone around here doesn’t know about its existence.”
“The night the Dixons disappeared it was storming, torrential rainfall, thunder and lightning.” Adams frowned. “How the hell did they end up way out here?”
“Could be we have the timeline wrong. Maybe they headed out after the storm, or were here before the storm. Truth is, the final twenty-four hours of the Dixons’ life is part of the mystery.
My father and the other investigators made educated guesses based on what they found in the house, but the theories are just that—theories. ”
Adams managed a short, troubled nod.
Most of the volunteer firefighters had dispersed by now. Mandy took the relative quiet to be a sign of the seriousness of the situation. A boarded-up historic well yielding a skeleton—plus crockery!—had been a genuinely what-the-fuck circus show. This…
This felt more like hallowed ground.
She closed the distance to the narrow opening, expecting the state detective to follow. When he didn’t advance, she turned around questioningly.
Adams was pale as a sheet. Sweat beaded his forehead. He looked a second away from vomiting.
Which apparently was truth in advertising as he took three steps to the side and threw up behind a bush.
Mandy didn’t raise a hand to assist. She’d been there, done that. No investigator appreciated others drawing attention to the act.
“Shit.” The man drew his forearm across his mouth. “Just…Shit.”
“I can show you pics if you pre—”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
Mandy was wise enough to remain silent.
“I got this,” he muttered. “Yep. Totally, completely, yep. Let’s do it.”
Mandy stepped into the opening, Adams shuffling behind her.
Seven or eight feet of solid granite squeezed around them, then they emerged into the immense cavern. The space was now brightly lit by a half dozen RDLs to aid Debs and her assistant in their efforts.
“I’m thinking it’s best to leave the remains in place,” the forensic anthro called out without looking up. “At least till after tonight’s storm. But wow. Just…wow.”
Mandy didn’t get a chance to answer. Adams glanced around once, slapped a hand over his mouth, and fled.
He made it farther from the entrance this time; not puking too close to the crime scene was always appreciated. His entire body heaved several times before winding down to gagging violently.
Mandy waited patiently off to the side.
“S-s-sorry,” he managed at last. “I don’t know what happened.” Another ragged gasp. “I don’t like enclosed spaces, but…never like this.”
“This cave isn’t just a cave. And this scene isn’t just a scene.”
“I wouldn’t know. Fuck it all.”
“Like I said, I have plenty of photos.”
“All these years. Thinking of this moment, trying to imagine it. How can I not be able to handle the real deal?”
“Maybe tomorrow’ll be better. As Debs said, the bones aren’t going anyplace, not until the weather has cleared.”
Mandy just caught a motion out of the corner of her eye. Adams was already frowning at something behind her.
“Who goes there?” he demanded.
Silence, then the sound of snapping twigs as the person took another step.
Mandy whirled around to discover Isla McLean emerging from behind a clump of trees.
The woman appeared at her witchy best with at least three moth-eaten tartans wrapped tight around her thin shoulders while her salt-and-pepper hair frizzed out as if powered by its own electric current.
Currently, the woman was staring at Adams with a nearly feral level of intensity.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“Hey, I asked you first.”
Mandy raised a hand to cut off the exchange before it got them nowhere.
As it was, she couldn’t stop herself from staring once more at the woman’s feet, currently clad in mismatched boots.
This woman and her father. Her father and this woman.
Jesus Christ, she needed more time to think, and fewer questions to answer.
“Isla McLean, meet Sam Adams, the state’s cold case investigator,” she managed now. “Adams, meet our local Witch of the Woods.”
“You’re from?” Isla gazed at Adams imperiously.
“Uh…Concord?”
“Not where. Who. Who are your people?”
Adams gazed at Mandy in bewilderment. Welcome to my world, she wanted to tell him.
“John and Linda Adams,” he managed. “Insurance brokers. Live in Nashua.”
“And before that?”
Adams bristled. “That’s rude. What gives you the right to ask such questions, or show up here, for that matter. This is a crime scene!”
“It’s a cave.” Isla started to turn away. Mandy snatched at her arm, ended up with a fistful of tartan.
“You know this cavern?” Then, as dots started to connect.
“Wait a sec. Speaking of origins, doesn’t your family have a reputation for theft, smuggling, and general mischief, going back to, I don’t know, the beginning of time?
I would imagine a hideaway would come in handy for such things.
Meaning, yes, absolutely, you would know all about this ‘new’ discovery. ”
Isla stared at her. But damned if the woman’s gaze didn’t appear less defiant, more sorrowful.
“The children found this cave,” she stated abruptly.
“The four Dixon kids?” Now Adams appeared as bewildered as Mandy.
“William brought me here himself. To their pirate’s lair. They were very proud of their discovery. They wanted to share it with someone who wouldn’t spill their secret. I was deemed acceptable.”
“But you already knew about it.”