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Her light caught something else—a splash of color against the gray rock. Moving closer, she saw it was a cross, painted in what looked like red paint.
No, not paint.
Blood.
Diana's heart rate spiked. Her hand moved to her Glock, drawing it smoothly as she swept her light across the tunnel. Nothing moved in the darkness. The cross gleamed wetly in her beam, fresh enough that it hadn't fully dried.
She should leave. Now. Call this whole thing off, get back to the entrance, report what she'd found to the sheriff.
But if she left now, the evidence might disappear. The mining company had decades of experience covering their tracks. How many other geologists had come close to discovering their secret operation, only to have the evidence vanish before they could document it?
"Think it through," she whispered to herself, a habit from years of working alone. The killer likely used the main entrance, the one where they'd found Tyler Matthews' truck. She'd come in through a different access point, one that only a handful of geologists and mining engineers knew about. Even if he was down here, the odds of him finding her were—
A rock clattered somewhere in the darkness.
Diana killed her headlamp instantly, letting the absolute darkness of the mine envelop her. She pressed against the tunnel wall, controlling her breathing the way she'd learned in her self-defense classes. Listen. Focus.
Nothing but the soft drip of water somewhere deeper in the tunnel system.
She waited five minutes in the darkness, her hand steady on her pistol. When no other sounds came, she reluctantly switched her light back on, keeping it pointed at the ground to preserve her night vision.
The blood-drawn cross seemed to mock her caution. How long ago had it been made? Minutes? Hours? There was no way to tell in the constant temperature and humidity of the mine.
Diana took out her camera again, documenting the cross and its location. Then she set down her pack and pulled out her field notebook, making quick notes:
Signs of recent mining activity in north branch
Copper vein extends beyond documented surveys
Evidence of illegal extraction
Fresh blood marking (cross symbol)—possible connection to recent murders?
She photographed these notes as backup, then tucked everything away in her waterproof pack. Time to go. She had enough evidence now—of both the illegal mining and whatever twisted game the killer was playing down here.
But just as she was about to put the pack back on, something hard struck her in the side of the head, sending her headlamp flying. The light spun as it hit the ground, creating a strobing effect of shadows before going dark with a sickening crack.
Despite the pain, she recovered quickly from the blow. The Glock was already in her hand, and she fired three times toward where the attack had come from. The muzzle flash lit the tunnel in stark bursts, burning afterimages in her vision. In that fragmentary illumination, she caught a glimpse of a figure ducking away.
The sound of her shots echoed through the tunnels, a cascading thunder that seemed to go on forever. Then silence, broken only by the rapid drumming of her heart and the soft scuff of retreating footsteps.
She'd driven him off. But for how long?
Diana pressed herself against the cold stone wall, straining to hear over her own breathing. The darkness was absolute now, the kind of perfect black that existed only deep underground.
Keeping the gun in her right hand, she used her left to reach for the backup light in her pack. Her hand encountered empty air.
Puzzled, she crouched down and felt around the area where she was sure she'd left the pack. Nothing. It was gone.
Taken.
She swallowed hard. She was now in complete darkness far beneath the earth, with little hope of navigating back to the surface.
And somewhere in that darkness, a killer was waiting. Someone who knew these tunnels by heart, who had already murdered at least two people.
And who no doubt intended to make her the third.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN