The Killing Hour

  Nora Ray was right; if the girl was in the cavern, they could literally be standing on top of her right now. So close, yet so far away.

  Then, through the buzzing drone of the insects, he finally heard a welcome cry. It was Kimberly, somewhere off to the left.

  “Hey, hey,” she yelled. “I found something. Over here, quick!”

  CHAPTER 39

  Lee County, Virginia

  4:53 P.M.

  Temperature: 101 degrees

  “HELLO, HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Kimberly had found an eight-inch-wide duct sticking up through the ground like a section of stovepipe. She peered down the tube, trying to see where it led, but encountered only darkness. Next, she waved her hand over the top. Definitely a draft of cooler air coming up from somewhere. She tried dropping a small pebble. She never heard it land.

  Mac was running over. Nora Ray as well. Kimberly leaned closer to the pipe, cupping her mouth to amplify her voice. “Is anyone down there?”

  She lowered her ear to the mouth of the pipe. Did she hear movement? Sounds of something shifting way down in the dark, dank depths? It was hard to be sure.

  “Hellooooooo!”

  Mac finally drew up at her side. His hair was spiky with sweat, his shirt and shorts plastered to his skin. He dropped to his knees beside her and added his voice to the pipe.

  “Is anyone down there? Karen Clarence? Tina Krahn? Are you in there?”

  “She might be asleep,” Kimberly murmured.

  “Or unconscious.”

  “Are you sure that goes to the cavern?” Nora Ray asked.

  Kimberly shrugged wearily. “As sure as I am about anything.”

  “But that can’t be the entrance,” Nora Ray said. “No one could fit down that hole.”

  “No, it can’t be an entrance. Maybe it’s an airhole, or a skylight. Someone at least took the time to engineer the pipe. That’s gotta mean something.”

  “The cavern’s big,” Mac muttered. He tried the pebble trick and got the exact same results. “From the website it sounded as if it were several rooms connected by long tunnels, and some of the rooms are the size of small cathedrals. Maybe this pipe leads to one of those chambers, letting in some natural light.”

  “We need an entrance,” Kimberly said.

  “No kidding.”

  “I’ll stay here and keep yelling. You and Nora Ray see if you can’t find another opening. Maybe you’ll hear my voice echoing through and that will help. Besides . . .” Kimberly faltered. “If one of the girls is down there, I don’t want her to think we went away. I want her to know that we’re coming. That it’ll be over soon.”

  Mac nodded, giving her a look that was hard to read. He and Nora Ray resumed their frantic scouring of the woods. Kimberly got down on the dusty ground, placing her mouth next to the rusty pipe.

  “This is Kimberly Quincy,” she called. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she started with the basics. “I’m with Special Agent Mac McCormack and Nora Ray Watts. We’ve come to help you. Can you hear me at all? I can’t hear you. Maybe, if you’re too weak to yell, you could try banging on something.”

  She waited. Nothing.

  “Are you thirsty? We have water and food. We also have a blanket. I understand the caverns are cold, even this time of year. And boy, I bet you’re sick to death of the dark.”

  She thought she heard something this time. She paused, holding her breath. A thud against the rocks? Or maybe a cold, frightened girl, trying to drag her body closer to the hole in the sky?

  “A whole team is coming. Search-and-rescue specialists, karst specialists. They’ll have all the proper gear to be able to get you out of there. And trust me, if you think it’s cold down there, wait ’til you find out how hot it is up here. Must be a good hundred degrees in the shade. You’ll be missing that cool hunk of rock in no time. But I bet you’ll love seeing the sun again. And the trees and the sky and all the smiling faces of us rescue workers, who can’t wait to meet you.”

  She was still talking. Rambling, really. Funny, her voice had grown thick.

  “You don’t need to be afraid. I know it’s hard to be alone in the dark. But people are here now. We’ve been looking for you a long time. And we’re going to go into the cavern, we’re going to bring you back up to the light and then we’re going to find the man who did this, so it never happens again.”

  Sounds now. Loud, startling noises like the crunch of gravel. Kimberly jerked her head up in excitement, then realized the noise wasn’t coming from the stovepipe. Instead, she saw two dusty trucks pull in straight ahead. One had a sticker of a bat glued to the driver-side window.

  A door banged open. A man sprang out, already running to the back, jerking down his tailgate, and tossing out gear.

  “You the one that reported the lost caver?” the guy yelled over his shoulder. The second truck had already come to a halt and was now shedding two more men rushing for gear.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry for the delay. Would’ve been here sooner if not for that damn tree. What can you tell us of the missing caver?”

  “We believe she’s been abandoned in the cavern for at least forty-eight hours. She doesn’t have proper gear, and was probably left with only a gallon of water.”

  The man drew up short. “Huh? You want to try that again?”

  “She’s not a caver,” Kimberly said quietly. “She’s just a girl, a victim of a violent crime.”

  “You’re kiddin’?”

  “No.”

  “Ah hell, I’m not sure I want to know anything more after that.” The man turned to his two companions. “Bob, Ross, you catch that?”

  “Girl, no gear, lost somewhere in the cavern. You don’t want to know anything more.” The two other men didn’t even look at Kimberly. They were busy pulling on long johns in hundred-degree heat. Then they grabbed pairs of thick blue coveralls and jerked them on over the long underwear. Both men were sweating profusely. They didn’t seem to notice.

  “I’m Josh Shudt,” the first guy said, coming over and belatedly shaking Kimberly’s hand. “I wouldn’t say I’m the leader of this group, but I’m probably as close as it gets. We have two others on the way, but given what you say, the three of us should probably head on in.”

  “Does this stovepipe go to the cave?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s a skylight in the main chamber right beneath your feet.”

  “I’ve been talking down it. I don’t know if she can hear anything . . .”

  “She probably appreciates that,” Shudt said.

  “Can I go with you?”

  “You have any gear?”

  “Just what I’m wearing.”

  “That’s not gear. In a cave, it’s fifty-five degrees every day of the year. Feels like a fucking refrigerator, and that’s before you get into the water. To enter Orndorff’s Cavern, we gotta descend forty feet by rope into knee-high water. Then we get to wiggle through thirty feet of watery tunnel that’s ’bout twelve inches high. Good news is then we enter the main chamber, which has a forty-foot vault. Assuming, of course, we don’t run into a rabid raccoon or a ring-necked snake.”

  “Snakes?” Kimberly asked weakly.

  “Yes, ma’am. At least there are no bats. Orndorff’s Cavern is dying, sad to say. And even if the bats had still found it an acceptable hibernaculum, this time of year they’re out eating bugs. October through April, it’s another story. Never a dull moment being a caver.”

  “I thought you guys were called spelunkers.”

  “No, ma’am. We’re cavers. Cavers rescue spelunkers. So don’t you worry. Just let us do our thing, and we’ll find your missing person. She got a name?”

  “Karen or Tina.”

  “She has two names?”

  “We don’t know which victim she is.”

  “Ah man, I really don’t want to know more about your case. You do your thing. We’ll do ours.”

  Shudt walked back to his pile of gear, snapping on his coveralls, while Mac and
Nora Ray finally came running over. Everyone made curt introductions, then Mac, Kimberly, and Nora Ray were left standing awkwardly to the side while the three men finished suiting up, strapped on packs, then donned thick hiking boots and tough leather gloves.

  They had piles of brightly colored rope among them. In deft movements they coiled up the various heavy-duty lengths, then looped them over their shoulders. They seemed to be down to final adjustments then, testing out multiple light sources, adjusting their hard hats. Finally Shudt grunted approval at each man’s gear, returned to the back of his truck, and pulled out a long backboard.

  For transporting the victim out of the cave. In case she couldn’t walk on her own. Or in case she was dead.

  Shudt looked over at Mac. “We could use a spotter to help man the ropes up top. Ever worked with a belay?”

  “I’ve done some rock climbing.”

  “Then you’re our man. Let’s go.”

  Shudt turned one last time toward Kimberly.

  “Keep talking down the pipe,” he told her quietly. “You never know.”

  The men turned and walked into the woods. Kimberly sank back down to the ground. Nora Ray joined her in the dust.

  “What do we say?” the girl murmured.

  “What did you want to hear most?”

  “That it was going to end. That I was going to be okay.”

  Kimberly thought about it a moment. Then she cupped her hands and leaned over the pipe. “Karen? Tina? This is Kimberly Quincy again. The search-and-rescue workers are on their way. Do you hear me? The tough part is over. Soon, we’ll have you home to your family again. Soon, you’ll be safe.”

  Tina had gouged as much as she could gouge. She had started at knee level, digging holes up as far as she could reach. Then, as an experiment, she’d crammed her muddy toes into the first two rough holes, gripped other ragged edges with her hands, and climbed up a whole two feet.

  Her legs shook violently. She felt at once light as a feather and as heavy as an anchor. She would rocket to the top like a human spider. She would plummet to the ground and never get up again.

  “Come on,” she whispered through her parched, cracked lips. And then she started to climb.

  Three feet up. Her arms now shook as violently as her legs and her stomach contracted with a painful cramp. She rested her head against the blanket of dense green vines, prayed not to throw up, and resumed climbing again.

  Up toward the sun. Light as a feather. Be like Spiderman.

  Six feet up, she came to an exhausted halt. No more handholds and she still didn’t trust the vines. Awkwardly, she tried to support herself with her feet, straining up on her tiptoes as she reached above her head with her right hand and blindly dug in her nail file. The ancient wood crumbled beneath the fumbling metal and gave her fresh courage. She gouged wildly, already envisioning herself at the top.

  Maybe she’d find a lake on the surface. A vast blue oasis. She would plunge in headfirst. She would float on tranquil waves. She would dive low, letting the water wash the mud from her hair. And then she would swim to the cool depths in the middle of her fantasy lake, and drink until her belly swelled like a balloon.

  Then when she reached the other side, she would be greeted by a tuxedoed waiter, bearing a silver platter piled with fluffy white towels.

  She giggled out loud. Delirium didn’t bother her so much anymore. It seemed the only chance of happiness she would get.

  Wood rained down on her head. She was reminded of her task by the sudden, fierce pain in her overexerted arms. She explored the hole she’d made with her fingertips. She could curl her fingers into the rough opening. Time to move again. How did the old TV theme song go? Had to keep moving on up, to the top, where she would finally get a piece of the pie.

  She painfully pulled her body up another step, her butt sticking out precariously, her arms shaking violently from her efforts. She moved four more excruciating inches. And then once more she was stuck.

  Time for another hole. Her left arm ached too badly to bear her weight. She switched to hanging on with her right hand, while digging at the wood with her left. The motion felt awkward. She had no idea if she was working one spot, or carelessly ripping up the whole board. Too hard to look.

  She clung to the wall with her trembly legs and worn-out arms. Soon she had the next hole done and it was time for another step. She made the mistake of looking up then, and almost wept.

  The sky. So high above her. What, a good ten to fifteen feet? Her legs already ached, her arms burned. She didn’t know how much longer she could do this and she had only made it eight feet. She had spidey hands and spidey feet, but she did not have spidey strength.

  She just wanted her lake. She wanted to swim through those cool waves. She wanted to step out the other side and fall into her mother’s arms, where she would weep piteously and apologize for anything she’d ever done.

  God give her strength to climb this wall. God give her courage. Because her mother needed her and her baby needed her and, please God, she did not want to die like a rat in a trap. She did not want to die all alone.

  One more hole, she told herself. Climb up, dig one more hole, and then you can return to the muck to rest.

  So she made it one more hole. And then she made it another. And then she promised herself, through her labored breathing, that she just needed to do one more. Which turned into two more, then three more, until finally, she had gone ten or twelve feet up the wall.

  And it was scary now. Definitely no looking down. Had to just keep pushing up, even if her shoulders felt curiously elastic, as if the joints had pulled apart and now dangled loosely. And she swayed sometimes, having to catch herself with her fingers which made her shoulders shriek and her arms burn and she cried out in pain, though her throat was so dry it came out more like a chirpy croak, a sandpaper sound of protest.

  Moving on up. To the top. Gonna finally get a piece of the pie.

  She was weeping with no tears. She was clinging desperately to rotted timber and fragile vines and trying hard not to think of what she was doing. She hurt beyond pain. She pushed herself beyond endurance.

  She pictured her mother. She pictured her baby and she pushed and she pushed and she pushed.

  Fifteen feet up. The top ledge so close she could finally see an overhang of bushy grass. Surface vegetation. Her parched mouth watered at the thought.

  She stared too long. Forgot what she was doing. And her exhausted, dehydrated body finally gave out. Her hand reached up. Her fingers failed to connect.

  And then she went backwards.

  For a moment, she felt herself suspended in midair. She could see her arms and legs churning, like one of those silly cartoon creatures. Then reality reasserted itself. Gravity took over.

  Tina plummeted down into the muck.

  No scream this time. The mud swallowed her whole and after all these days, she did not protest.

  Kimberly was still talking forty-five minutes later. She talked of water and food and warm sun. She talked of the weather and the baseball season and the birds in the sky. She talked of old friends and new friends and won’t it be nice to meet in person?

  She talked of holding on. She talked of never giving up. She talked of miracles and how they could happen if you willed them hard enough.

  Then Mac came out of the woods. She took one look at his face and stopped talking.

  Seventeen minutes later, they brought the body up.

  CHAPTER 40

  Lee County, Virginia

  7:53 P.M.

  Temperature: 98 degrees

  THE SUN STARTED TO DESCEND, surfing bright orange waves of heat. Shadows grew longer, while it remained stifling hot. And in the abandoned sawmill, vehicles started to pile up.

  First came more members of the cavers’ search-and-rescue team. They finished hauling out the lifeless body of a young girl with short-cropped brown hair. Her yellow-flowered slip dress had been reduced to tatters by the acidic water. The fingernails on
both of her hands were broken and ragged, as if at some point she’d clawed frantically at the hard dolomite walls.

  The rest of her was blue and bloated; Josh Shudt and his men had found her body floating in the long tunnel that connected the cavern’s sinkhole entrance to the main chamber. They’d pushed through to the cathedral room after pulling out her body. There, on a ledge, they’d found an empty gallon jug of water and a purse.

  According to her driver’s license, the victim’s name was Karen Clarence, and just one week ago she had turned twenty-one.

  It didn’t take much to fill in the rest. The UNSUB had delivered the victim, most likely drugged and unconscious, to the main chamber. The stovepipe skylight forty feet above would’ve offered precious little light when the girl awoke. Enough to realize she had a shallow pond of relatively safe rainwater to her left and a stream of highly polluted, toxic water to her right. Maybe she stayed on the ledge for a while. Maybe she tried the small pond and promptly got bitten by its already stressed inhabitants—the white, eyeless crayfish, or the tiny, rice-sized isopods. Maybe she even encountered a ring-necked snake.

  Either way, the girl had probably ended up wet. And once you got wet in an environment that’s constantly fifty-five degrees, hypothermia’s only a matter of time.

  Shudt told them all a story of a caver who’d lasted two weeks lost in five miles of winding underground caverns. Of course, he’d been wearing proper gear and had a pack full of protein bars. He’d also been lost in a healthy cavern, where the water was not only safe to drink, but according to local lore, brought the drinker good luck.

  Karen Clarence hadn’t been so lucky. She’d managed not to brain her skull on a thick stalactite. She’d managed not to bruise a knee or sprain a wrist crawling in the dark amid the stalagmites. But at some point, she’d headed straight into the polluted stream. Water that acidic must have burned her skin, just as it promptly ate holes in her dress. Was she beyond caring at that point? Had the cold set in so deep, the burning liquid felt good against her flesh? Or had she simply been that determined? She would die sitting on the ledge. The shallow pond led nowhere. That left only the stream to guide her back to civilization.