His head bobbed up and down. “What kind of game?”
“A spy game.”
“What’s a spy?” His tongue poked out as he worked at tying his shoes.
“Someone who watches what is going on and reports back to headquarters. You be the spy, and you can report to me.”
“That sounds fun!” He jumped to his feet.
“Get your snowshoes on,” she told him.
He stopped at the door. “I don’t like the snowshoes. I want to play in the snow without them.”
More disobedience? This was getting to be a habit, and one she intended to break. “Don’t argue with me. Get your snowshoes on.”
Sam’s lower lip thrust out, and he shook his head. “I don’t want to.”
Rage boiled over, and Rachel grabbed him roughly by the arm. Too late she realized it was his injured arm, and he cried out. “It’s your own fault,” she said. “Now get outside and get your snowshoes on like I told you.”
Sobbing and holding his arm, Sam did as she said. She didn’t know what had gotten into him. If he kept causing her this much trouble, what would she do? This must be what all the magazines meant when they talked about children becoming rebellious. What would it take to break Sam of that streak?
Sam slowly strapped on his snowshoes then stood and waited while she put hers on.
“Let’s go,” she said curtly.
It was slow going with Sam. Rachel was beginning to wish she’d left him home, but she needed him to keep watch for her. They finally reached the mine. She paused and listened but heard nothing.
“Follow me,” she told Sam. She led the way across the clearing to the building where she’d seen the man. “I want you to stand guard here. Your job as a spy is to listen for any people or snowmobiles,” she said. “If you hear anything, just yell for me, okay?”
He nodded. “Okay. But hurry. I’m scared.”
He was always scared. When she got him to Chicago, she’d have a doctor look at him. She patted him on the head, turned on her flashlight, and went down into the shaft building. An hour later she was dirty and tired but no wiser. It was going to take someone smarter than she was to figure out what that man had been doing there.
When she exited the mine, she saw a man standing with Sam. The boy was crying and trying to get away from him. Did Sam know him? There seemed to be a frightened recognition on his face. She looked around for a weapon and grabbed a chair leg from a pile of rubble. Creeping forward, the snow crunched beneath Rachel’s boots and the man turned to face her. The breath left her lungs when she saw the gun in his hand.
“I’d put that down if I were you,” he said casually. A sock hat covered his hair, and the rest of his form was buried in a thick coat. He held up her fedora. “You were here before, weren’t you? What did you see?”
She let the chair leg drop from her fingers. “Nothing. You with a duffel bag, that’s all. Let go of my boy.” She hadn’t heard his snowmobile.
“I want you to keep your mouth shut about what you saw.”
“I don’t know who you are anyway.”
“You could point me out. But now that I’ve seen the boy, I know you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”
“What do you mean? Please, let go of my son,” she whispered.
The man grinned and released Sam. “Go to your mother, boy. ”
He knew she wasn’t Sam’s mother. Her fear ratcheted up a notch. Sam limped toward her, and she grabbed his good arm and dragged him close to her side. “I’m not saying anything.” Sam clung to her tightly.
“Good. Because I know someone who would be very interested in finding the boy. Someone who has been looking for him. You obviously know where the plane is. You’re going to take me there. Let’s get going.”
She balked. She had to come up with a plan. “It’s too far in the snow.”
“My snowmobile is over there.” He motioned to a dip in the terrain in a stand of aspen. “Move.”
“The boy is tired,” she protested. “Come tomorrow, and we can go while he’s having his nap.”
“I’ve been looking for it for a year. I don’t intend to wait.”
She had no choice but to follow him across the snowy ground. He got on the snowmobile and motioned for her and Sam to get on behind him. There would be room for the three of them; the man was slim and Sam was small. Sam began to whimper.
“Hush,” Rachel said sternly. She had to think.
The man turned the key to start the snowmobile, but all it did was click. He muttered an oath under his breath and tried again, but the engine still refused to start.
“Get off,” he growled. “I’ll have to walk back. I’ll be over to see you tomorrow. You’d better be there, or you’ll be sorry.”
Her tongue wanted to form words of defiance, but all Rachel managed to do was nod. She wished she had his gun. She wouldn’t hesitate to use it. No one was going to take her boy. It was only after she was home again that she realized her fedora was still at the mine.
This time it could stay there.
21
Bree checked her watch. Nearly one. The heavy snow prevented her from burying Davy’s belongings, and she had nothing else pressing to do today. She had been meaning to get out to the mine, and there was no time like the present. With her snowshoes, the snow cover was no problem. She put Samson in his search vest then gathered her ready-pack. She stuffed Fay’s diary into the backpack and headed out. Though she’d been reading the diary carefully from back to front, Fay’s minuscule writing made for slow reading, and so far she’d found nothing but Fay’s selfish musings about her empty life. Steve wanted it back today.
Bree drove up Houghton Street and saw Naomi walking down the street with Charley. Bree stopped the Jeep and rolled down the window. “Hey, I’m heading out to take a look at that old mine. You want to come?” Charley barked, and Bree grinned. “I think he answered for you. You’re not busy, are you?”
“Not unless you count avoiding my mother’s questions,” Naomi said. She put Charley in the back with Samson and climbed in.
Bree stopped at the bank and grabbed the diary out of her backpack. “I’ll be right back,” she told Naomi. She walked back to Steve’s office and handed it to him. “I’d like to look at it again as soon as possible, Steve.”
He nodded. “I’ll glance through it as quick as I can. I just have to protect myself. I hope you understand.”
She nodded. “I’d better go. Naomi and I are going out to check the mine.”
His head jerked up. “I might join you after I finish here.”
“I can use all the help I can get.” It was about time Steve started taking a more active role. She left him and hurried outside.
“What’s your mom have to say about you seeing Donovan?” Bree asked Naomi when she got back into the Jeep.
“I may have to move out.” Naomi grinned to show she wasn’t serious.
“That bad?”
“Terrible. I never should have told her I was interested in Donovan.” Naomi put her head in her hands and rocked it from side to side in a mock expression of pain then leaned her head back against the seat. “She wants to invite Donovan and the kids over for supper. Now I ask you, Bree, doesn’t she get it that things haven’t gone that far? We’re just friends exploring where it might lead.”
“Has Donovan said that?”
“Well, sort of. He asked me if I’d ever wondered what might have happened if we’d dated in high school.”
“You deserve someone really wonderful, Naomi. I hope Donovan is the one.” And though she didn’t say it, Bree hoped Naomi’s marriage—if it got that far—would turn out better than Bree’s own. But that wasn’t fair. The early days had been happy, and maybe they would have been again. She would never know.
“What are you thinking about? You have a strange look on your face,” Naomi said. “You’ve been different lately. Even Mom remarked on it.”
“Different how?”
“I don??
?t know exactly. Maybe more at peace with yourself—or maybe it’s just resignation. I can’t tell.”
At peace with herself. That sounded good if she could make it a reality. “I’m trying, Naomi. I think one day soon I’ll be able to go forward and not be stuck in the reruns of my life. The memories will still be there, but they won’t consume me like they used to.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I packed up Davy’s things last night. I thought I’d make a guest room.”
“Oh, Bree, that’s wonderful!”
Bree blinked and glanced at her friend before turning her attention back to the road. “You approve? I thought you’d be horrified and wonder what kind of mother I am.”
“I’ve worried about you turning Davy’s room into a shrine. You’ll always love Davy. We both know you’ll always mourn him. But it’s time, Bree.”
Bree parked the Jeep by the highway. The road back to the mine was too snow-covered to see the dangerous potholes and tree stumps, so it would be safest to walk in.
“What are we looking for?” Naomi asked as they got out and allowed the dogs to race on ahead. They could wander until it was time to go home.
“I’m not really sure. A lot of details about Fay’s death seem to lead back to this mine. Maybe it’s coincidence, but I want to be sure.”
“You mean you wonder if someone killed her for money?”
“It’s possible.” Bree ticked the suspects off on her glove-covered fingers. “Her uncle wanted her to sell to the New York conglomerate so he could get more money than what Palmer was willing to pay. He might have killed her to stop the sale. Of course, Steve nixed that idea, but Lawrence couldn’t have known that ahead of time.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose. “This is getting too scary for me, Bree. You need to let Mason handle it. New York conglomerates, big insurance policies, huge debts, and a boyfriend just out of jail. It’s all too horrible.”
They reached the mine, and Bree pointed to the ground. “Looks like someone’s been here recently. I wonder if it’s all related to the sale?”
Numerous footprints had tamped down the snow all across the clearing. Bree walked toward the main building. “Let’s check the main shaft.”
“Talk about stumbling around in the dark,” Naomi grumbled. “We have no idea what we’re looking for.”
“Something worth killing for,” Bree said. Darkness yawned through the mine shaft building’s open door, which was attached by only one rusted hinge.
Bree didn’t really want to go in, but she was done with fear. Fear had kept her silent when she should have talked to Rob about where their marriage was headed from the moment he grew distant; fear kept her from speaking her mind and being herself; fear of the future trapped her in the past. In all the ways that really mattered, she’d been a coward, and it shamed her. But no more.
She fumbled in her backpack for glow sticks and handed one to Naomi. Together they broke the sticks, and an eerie green light forced back the blanket of darkness. Bree immediately felt better. Naomi followed as they pushed deeper into the shaft building.
A giant steam hoist rose in front of them like some ravenous prehistoric beast. Bree had heard the hoist could lift eight tons of copper ore. Naomi uttered a tiny scream then gave a shaky laugh. “It looks like it wants to eat someone,” she said in a hushed whisper.
“We could offer it Eric Matthews,” Bree said. When they both laughed, she felt better. This wasn’t so bad. She could do this.
Stepping over paper, discarded crates, and piles of rock, they walked farther into the shaft. They came to a split in the hall. Bree looked down each branch as far as she could see.
“You go left, and I’ll go right,” she told Naomi.
“I think we should stay together,” Naomi said. “What if part of this old mine falls on one of us?”
“It seems sturdy enough. It will take us forever to search if we don’t split up.” The sooner they finished this job, the sooner they could get out of this dank place. The stale air in here made her think of tombs and graveyards, a macabre thought that brought a surge of panic. She swallowed her fear and turned to the right.
“I don’t like this,” Naomi called as she headed down the other hall.
It might not be the smartest thing to go alone without the dogs, but it would take too long to round them up. Besides, the walkway only went down. A damp chill radiated from the yawning hole, and she didn’t want to enter it, but Bree forced herself to go on. She would never find the answer to Fay’s murder if she didn’t find some courage.
Down, down she went, the dim light of the glow stick lighting the way. The darkness seemed a living thing that teased her beyond the reach of her stick’s feeble light. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she grabbed her flashlight and flipped it on. The bright white light pushed back the shadows, and she caught her breath again.
Several kerosene lanterns lined the shelves along the way. Maybe there was fuel in one of them. She looked closer and saw they were all full of kerosene. Evidently the fuel wasn’t worth hauling out of here—lucky for her. Fumbling in her pack, she pulled out a box of matches and lit one of the lanterns. Holding the lantern high, she resumed her descent.
She came to a split. So much for there being no way to get lost. She’d just have to remember which way she chose. Chewing her lip, Bree saw a track running along the ground to the left. She’d follow it. If she didn’t find anything in fifteen minutes, she would go back. She set the stopwatch function on her watch. She walked for what seemed like forever, but when she checked the time, only five minutes had passed. She looked up. A barrier stood in her way, and she stopped. It was a huge door that stood partway open to a room carved out of stone. Maybe it was an office or something.
She walked inside and stumbled over the rock that held the door open. The rock shifted, and the door slammed shut. With a cry, she flew to the door and grabbed at the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Placing the lantern on the floor, she twisted the knob with both hands, but it didn’t turn at all. She began pounding on the door.
Bree shouted until she was hoarse then looked at her watch just as the fifteen-minute alarm went off. Full-blown panic loomed at the edge of her mind, but she fought it. She reminded herself she was a professional. The key was not to panic. Naomi would get the dogs, and Samson would find her.
The darkness pressed in on her, and she grabbed the lantern and held it high. The room seemed to be a makeshift office of some kind. An old desk sat in one corner, its metal drawer rusting from the damp. Several equally rusty filing cabinets stood against the other wall. Several filthy blankets were heaped on the floor in one corner, evidently the haven of some homeless person in the dim past.
The touches of humanity in the room calmed Bree’s rising terror. Sucking in several deep breaths, she found her cell phone and tried to dial. No signal. She put it away slowly. All she could do was be calm and wait. Easier said than done.
Setting the lamp on the desk, she pulled out the office chair and grabbed an old rag to wipe it down. After examining it for bugs and spiders, she eased into it. Though her heart still throbbed with trepidation, she no longer felt as though she might begin to scream uncontrollably. What could she do to keep her mind off her predicament?
The desk beside her held six drawers. The metal shrieked when she opened the first. She poked gingerly at the contents: rusty paper clips, pencils, a chalkboard eraser, an assortment of yellowed labels. The next drawer held papers, and she pulled them into the light. The crabbed handwriting was hard to read, but Bree soon got the hang of it.
Ledger sheets documented measurements of ore and sales to smelting companies. A letter dated May 1965 to a person named Wilson Cutter in Detroit caught her eye. According to the letter, a new vein of ore had been discovered at the Copper Queen. Gold. But the mine closed in July of 1965. Bree frowned. Had it been a false alarm, or had this letter never been sent? Maybe someone had found out about the gold in the mine.
Another paper, folded in half, fluttere
d to the floor. She grabbed it, but before she could open it, a clank sounded outside the door. Stuffing the paper into her pocket, she sprang forward and began pounding. “I’m in here!” she shouted.
Moments later she heard Samson’s whine. He began to bark, then the deeper tones of a man’s voice reverberated through the door.
“We’re here, Bree; I’ll get you out,” Kade shouted through the door. “The door’s locked, but I have a crowbar. Naomi, over here! I’ve found her.”
Metal screeched against metal as Kade pried the hinges loose. “Stand back,” he called.
Bree stood away from the door, and it crashed inward. Dust flew into her face, and she coughed as she stumbled into Kade’s arms. Samson barked joyously then leaped onto her leg. She patted his head then leaned against Kade’s chest.
He hugged her tightly, and she burrowed into his strong embrace, just as she’d longed to do before. It was just as she’d imagined. With his arms tight around her, she felt safe and protected.
He spoke into her hair. “What were you thinking, prowling around down here all alone?”
She finally pulled away and slanted a grin into his face. “A good investigator goes where the clues are.”
He grinned back. “A good investigator doesn’t get lost.”
“Bree!” Naomi’s shout echoed down the cavernous hall, and the dim glow of her light stick grew brighter. Charley raced ahead of his owner and jumped on Bree in an ecstatic show of relief. Moments later Naomi rushed out of the darkness and grabbed Bree in a tight clutch.
Both women burst into tears.
Kade looked at Samson and sighed. “Don’t try to understand it, boy.”
The women giggled and wiped their tears before trooping out of the dark mine into the clearing. Bree stepped into the open air and stretched her arms to the sky. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the sun again.” It had started snowing, and the fresh cold air smelled wonderful after the staleness of the mine.
Kade rubbed Samson’s curly coat. “With this dog, I don’t think you’d ever have to worry about being lost. He would always find you.”