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"He could be using these old roads." Sheila pressed the accelerator harder. "How much further?"
"Five minutes. Maybe less." Gabriel shifted again, and this time she caught the way he rubbed his right leg.
"Your knee acting up?"
He waved off her concern. "Old injury. From that cave rescue in '87."
She remembered the story, though she'd only been a kid when it happened. A group of cavers had gotten trapped by a flash flood. Her father had led the rescue team, spent eighteen hours in near-freezing water. His knee had never been quite right after that.
They rounded another bend, and the trees opened up, revealing the mine entrance below.
"No vehicles," Sheila said as they pulled in.
"That's because Amy dropped him off," Gabriel said, already reaching for his weapon. "As for the killer, he could have parked somewhere else. Used one of those old access roads."
They got out quickly, Sheila checking her weapon while Gabriel radioed for backup. The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and old timbers from the mine entrance.
"We can't wait," she said, checking her flashlight.
"Agreed." Gabriel started toward the entrance, then stumbled slightly on a chunk of rock. His hand went to his knee.
"Dad—"
"I'm fine." But his face was tight with pain. "Just need a minute."
Sheila was about to argue when a sound echoed from the mine entrance. A scream, distant but clear, followed by what might have been a voice calling for help.
CHAPTER TEN
Sheila's heartbeat became an audible drumming in her ears as she pressed forward, listening for any repeat of that scream. None came.
She wasn't sure whether this was a good thing or a bad thing.
Twin flashlight beams cut through the darkness as Sheila and her father moved deeper into the darkness. The temperature dropped, and the musty scent of old timbers and damp earth enveloped them. Their footsteps echoed off the rocky walls, amplifying every sound.
Sheila tried not to think about how many tons of rock and earth loomed above them, tried to ignore the creaking of ancient support beams that seemed ready to give way at any moment. She'd worked dozens of cases in her career, but something about being this far underground made her pulse quicken, made her want to turn and run back toward daylight.
Gabriel's breathing grew labored after the first hundred yards. His flashlight beam wavered slightly as he limped along, trying to keep pace.
"Sheila, wait." His voice echoed in the tunnel. "We need to slow down."
She turned back, almost grateful for the excuse to pause, to fight back the rising panic that threatened to overwhelm her. The tunnel suddenly felt narrower, the air thicker.
Gazing at her father, she didn't have to be a detective to read the pain etched on his face. Just one glance told her that he wasn't going to be able to keep up with her. "You should wait at the entrance. Call for backup," she said. Despite her own fear, despite every instinct screaming at her to get out, she couldn't risk losing Marcus, not when he might be in the killer's hands this very moment.
"No." He straightened, though she could see the effort it took. "I'm not leaving you alone down here."
"Dad—"
"I already lost your mother." His voice was rough with emotion. "And Natalie. I'm not losing you too."
The words hung between them in the darkness. Sheila felt the familiar ache that came with any mention of her mother or sister, but there was something else too—a warmth at hearing her father express his fears so openly.
"I can take care of myself," she said softly.
"I know." He managed a small smile. "I trained you, remember?"
A cry echoed through the tunnels then, bouncing off the walls until it was impossible to tell its direction. It might have been Marcus's voice, or it might have been the wind playing tricks.