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But for how long? Sheila wondered. And if she'd been shooting at the killer, had she hit him?
Through the van's windows, she could see the MSHA inspectors hurrying toward them, no doubt having heard about the gunshots. Behind them, news crews were already setting up their lights, preparing to broadcast this latest development.
Thirteen hours in the mines. Three or four gunshots in the dark. And somewhere in that maze of tunnels, a killer who knew every twist and turn by heart.
Another voice crackled over the radio. "Movement at Exit Two," Deputy Barnes reported. "Just shadows, probably local wildlife, but—"
Two more shots rang through the tunnel system, more distant this time. Carol jerked up straighter, her face going even paler.
"That's five shots total," Finn said quietly.
"She's got ten rounds," Carol said, her voice rising with barely controlled panic. Her hands twisted together so tightly her knuckles were white. "She practices at the range. She knows how to make her shots count."
Despite her attempts at remaining calm, the flare of her nostrils and the rapid rise and fall of her chest gave her away. Suddenly, she whirled on Sheila. "We have to do something," she said, her eyes pleading. "She's down there fighting for her life while we just—we just sit here listening!"
"Carol—" Sheila started, but Carol cut her off.
"No, don't tell me to calm down! That's my sister down there! The only family I have left, and she's alone in the dark with a killer, and we're just standing around waiting for some—some equipment?" Her voice cracked. "What if she runs out of bullets? What if he's hurting her right now while we waste time up here?"
Sheila took a deep breath. "I promise you, Carol, we're going to find your sister. Right now, the best thing you can do is help us fill in some blanks."
Inwardly, she too was frustrated. Somewhere in the darkness of the mines, Diana was fighting for her life. And they were stuck up here, watching screens and listening to echoes.
Carol was silent for a few moments. "What do you want to know?" she finally asked in a small voice.
"Has Diana mentioned seeing anyone else in the mines? During her previous surveys?"
Carol shook her head. "No, but... she did say something odd last week. Said the mines felt different at night. Like they were alive." She frowned, troubled. "I told her she was being dramatic. But now…"
"How were the mines different at night? Did she elaborate?"
"She said she kept finding things moved around. Equipment she'd left in one tunnel would turn up in another. Survey markers displaced." Carol's hands twisted together. "I thought it was just other researchers, maybe kids messing around. I should've believed her."
"You couldn't have known."
Carol said nothing. She was, no doubt, thinking about her sister being down there in the darkness, down there with someone who knew the tunnels intimately and could move through darkness as easily as light. Someone who'd already killed twice, who treated these mines like his own private hunting ground.
And Diana had wandered right into his web.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The man leaned against the tunnel wall, pressing the bandana harder against his shoulder. One of Diana's shots had found its mark—not serious, but painful enough to demand attention. The night vision goggles showed the blood as an odd green-black stain spreading across his shirt.
He could almost hear his father's voice: Pain builds character, boy. The darkness teaches us who we really are.
Frank had been right about that much, at least. The darkness did reveal truth—just not the kind of truth he'd preached about during those endless Sunday sermons. The man had learned that during those long nights, his father had locked him in these tunnels, sometimes for days at a time. The darkness stripped away pretense, facade, the comfortable lies people told themselves.
Like Tyler Matthews. The college boy had lasted almost forty-eight hours in the darkness before finally finding his way out—only to die moments after seeing sunlight again. He'd earned that quick death through his ordeal. But Marcus…
Marcus had fallen too soon, denied the chance to learn what the darkness could teach.
The man pulled the bandana away, examining the wound through his goggles. The bullet had only grazed him, but it was bleeding freely. He retrieved a first aid kit from his pack—he'd learned long ago to keep medical supplies cached throughout the mine system. As he cleaned and bandaged the wound, he listened to the silence of the tunnels.
Diana would be running low on ammunition now. Five shots fired. Depending on her magazine capacity, she might have five more, maybe less. But it didn't matter. He could wait. The darkness was his ally, his oldest friend. And she would learn, just as he had learned, just as his father had taught him.
Though his methods would be different from Frank's—no chains, no scripture readings bellowed into the darkness, no promises of salvation through suffering.
Just patience. Just silence. Just the perfect, pure darkness that stripped away everything false.