Stolen Innocents (The Shadow Series Book 2) (39 page)

“This tree is dead. Completely hollow,” explained Frank as he tied the rope to an adjacent tree.

Tommy grabbed the other end off of the rope. Before Frank could give him instructions Tommy had barrelled to the floor of the mine with the rope in his hand.

***

Angie laughed manically as Tristan fell to the depths of the mine. She kicked the old lever and slammed the hatch shut as she watched Cole and Jack’s faces morph from concern to outrage. While Jack desperately tried to reopen the hatch, Cole stamped across the dirt, beating a war path across the mine. Just inches from Angie’s face, Cole whipped out his gun and pushed it into Angie’s right eye socket. The metal surface of the gun felt cold against Angie’s eyelid, so she opened her eyes and looked straight down the barrel of Cole’s gun.

With a smile she said, “Go ahead. Put me out of my misery.”

“Nothing would give me greater satisfication,” spat Cole through gritted teeth.

“So do it…”

“Open the hatch!”

“No…”

“Open the goddamn hatch!”

“No…”

“Don’t make me do this!”

“I think I’ll leave her down there. Let’s see her escape this time.”

“Cole, it’s not opening!” yelled Jack as he tried to lift the hatch door with his bare hands.

Cole stared at Angie in her eyes with a look at pure hatred.

“Open the hatch.”

“Or what?”

“I’ll shoot you on the spot.”

Angie laughed maliciously as she spread her arms wide.

“Do your worst.”

Angie backed away slowly with a distant look on her face. She stumbled backwards and peered up at the moon that was shining down into the mine. She seemed transfixed. It was as if she was listening to someone talk to her from above, but there was no one there. While Angie’s delusions kept her distracted, Cole reached for the lever. He pulled hard and the lever groaned loudly in protest. Just as he thought the hatch door would spring open, the wooden lever broke off in his hand. Standing just ten feet away, Angie laughed even louder. She glared at Cole intensely.

“I told you she wouldn’t escape this time!”

As Cole whipped out his gun again, Angie bolted, chasing the darkness with furious vengeance.

***

The darkness was overwhelming as Tristan climbed to her feet. She felt as if the black abyss of the earth had swallowed her whole. She used her hands to learn her surroundings, scraping along the hard surfaces of the rock walls. Her leg bumped into what sounded like a piece of wooden furniture, then finally her hands found the surface of a wooden desk. She searched the desktop frantically hoping to find something that would give her light. There was something wet on the table and it gave Tristan an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. A strange smell permeated the air. It was sickly and like a cancer, it threatened to spread to Tristan, making her ill, too. Tristan continued her feverish search across the rough wood of the desk. Just as she was ready to abandon her efforts, she felt the cold metal surface of Bernard Kendricks’ lighter under the weight of her touch. Tristan’s teeth clenched when she recognized the object. Despite her rage, she picked up the heavy lighter and flicked the flame to life.

The flame shocked the darkness, illuminating the cavernous chamber in a ghostly glow. Tristan’s eyes grew wide with alarm as her vision adjusted to the light. Tristan circled the room as she took in her surroundings. The chamber was nothing more and nothing less than a grotesque tomb. Bernard had lined the walls with photographs of Catherine; the love of his ever-so deranged life. Candid photos that Bernard took when he crept along the perimeter of Morrow Manor were scattered about the chamber as strange reminders of his obsession. Candles with half burnt wicks lined every surface. Tristan slowly circled the chamber as she lit the candles, one-by-one. Flickering light engulfed the strange room as Tristan peered around with unmuted horror.

Jack’s old year book photo was cut out and left carelessly lying on the desk. Tristan recalled how much she always loved this particular photograph, but it was sullied for her now. Bernard had stabbed a rusted hunting knife through the photograph piercing Jack’s eye. There was no telling how long it sat there like that. This room was a tomb for Bernard’s obsession for Tristan’s mother, and his abhorrent hatred for her father.

Tristan continued to survey the cavernous space taking in horror after horror. Spiders crept over head weaving intricate webs just inches from where Tristan stood. Mice scuttled over and around Tristan’s feet, causing her to dodge the critters at an alarming pace. She wanted to scream but her lungs would not rally a cry. The worst was yet to be, though. The deeper into the chamber that Tristan ventured, the more repulsed she became. Dead rodents littered the ground while live ones feasted on their flesh. A sparrow that was so darling in life, lay dead and decapitated on top of the desk. The sparrow was not lonely in its despair. There were dozens of birds laying dead in the chamber. Crows, blue birds, sparrows and one sole robin all lay dead and desecrated on the floor of the mine.

“What the hell is it with the birds?!” Tristan commented aloud.

Then she remembered how Bernard thought that birds, especially ravens and crows, were guides to the afterlife. Had his desperation for Catherine consumed him so terribly that he even tried to contact her after he had taken her life?

No. Stop. He was a mad man. Stop dissecting this. He was insane. You are stuck one hundred feet below the earth. Figure out a way to get out.

But Tristan’s original thought was right on the mark. Bernard had thought that birds were messengers from the other side; from the beyond. He believed that they were secret keepers and that they had the power to relay messages from departed souls. Bernard Kendricks’ depraved mind had many such delusions.

A raven perched on an old wooden shelf and stared at Tristan intently. It was alive and pecking at the wood which it stood upon. Tristan was intrigued by the bird, finding something distinctly familiar about it. The bird hopped along and Tristan followed it, curious as to how something so majestic could live in a place as despairing to the soul as this. The raven ruffled its feathers and spread its wings as it glided through the dim light of the chamber. Tristan followed the raven, intensely curious as to what it was trying to show her.

Tristan stalked further into the mine, tracing the raven’s path. Her stomach tightened into painful knots with each step she took; each step moving towards the darkness. She lit another set of candles, illuminating more photographs of her mother. Tristan cautiously walked down a long and dark corridor to what she presumed was the end of the chamber. She lifted the lighter to see where the raven had gone, and she found that it was standing right at her feet, peering up at her. More photographs of Catherine lined the rock walls, only now, instead of being exalted, they were smeared with blood and dirt.

The raven led her to the back corner of the chamber, where the bird frantically cawed at something just out of Tristan’s view. An intense heaviness weighed upon Tristan. She knew that she just had to follow the ebony bird to gain some twisted insight upon what this chamber was used for. Tristan knew she just need to turn her head and she would know the truth. As her body shifted to face the corner where the bird continued to cry, the flame of the lighter lit up the dark space. Tristan gasped as she took in the grim scene. The dirt floor was stained red with blood. The rock walls were spattered with crimson and acted as a devastating reminder of the violence that occurred there. There were strange lines in the dirt; ten thin lines were imbedded in the stained dirt where someone had drug their fingers in a desperate attempt to escape. Tristan’s hands quaked as she stared at the tragic scene.

Tristan now knew exactly where the victims were killed. She just hoped that she wouldn’t be next.

***

Angie was running out of breath as she bolted up another dark and cavernous tunnel away from the heart of the mine. Cole booked after her, pounding the floor of the mine with his feet, quickly closing the distance between himself and Angie. Angie veered down another winding tunnel that led her into desolate darkness. She choked on the smoke that was caused by the car wreck. She was surprised the truck hadn’t blown up yet. Once she thought she had lost Cole in the dust she stopped to catch her breath. There were just a few more feet to go. A few more feet until freedom. Angie could escape out of the access door to Harrow’s and take her father’s car wherever she needed to go. He wouldn’t miss it that much, she was sure. Finally, she was at the wood panel. She would just need to move the wood and she was free as a bird. She couldn’t decide where she would go now. She pulled and pried on the wood panel but it would not budge. She continued to apply pressure but the door simply would not slide. Her rage began to boil over. To get this far, and face this struggle… Certainly there had to be a way. She would shoot through it if she had to. Suddenly, the door swung open, but much to Angie’s dismay she could not gain access to Harrow’s basement. Sergeant Jenna DiNolfo was standing in the access door with her gun pointing directly at Angie’s head.

“Get out of my way, Jenna!”

“No.”

“Get out of my way, I don’t want to hurt you!”

Jenna laughed, “You hurt me? I don’t think so.”

“Move!”

“No. You picked the wrong family to mess with.”

Jenna cocked her gun and pressed it firmly to Angie’s temple.

“This has nothing to do with you!”

“It has everything to do with me. It’s personal now.”

Angie took a sharp look at Jenna’s face. She was dead serious and not bluffing. Before Jenna could say anything more, Angie fled down the tunnel back towards the heart of the mine.

“I don’t know where you think you’re running. Those people out there want to kill you more than I do.”

Chapter              28

June 21, 2000

The Mines at Wilhamette

12:30 A.M.

A shadow darkened the tunnel blocking Angie O’Mara’s escape. A man of tall stature and broad shoulders stood between Angie and the freedom she so desperately craved. Freedom from the demons that ruled her. Angie knew that once she reached the heart of the mine that she could easily slither out another tunnel. While the tunnels would be treacherous for the search party, it would be a cake walk for Angie. She had been down here so many times with Hunter and with Bernard. She knew the arteries of the mines like the back of her hand. One wrong step and an inexperienced person could fall to their death down an unstable mine shaft miles below. The man, however, prevented Angie from her escape. She wasn’t about to quit when she was so close to freedom.

DiNolfo followed behind Angie slowly, knowing that she had nowhere to run. Angie sped up the long, dark tunnel with her gun out, sending a bullet flying straight into DiNolfo’s bullet proof vest. Angie could see the shadow of the man in the tunnel very clearly now, and her pace only quickened with hostility. She bolted forward preparing to tackle the man, but the man had no intentions upon giving up the ground he stood.

DiNolfo watched as the two shadows converged. It was hard to make out two separate forms as the pair fought in the dark of the tunnel. Angie struggled against the strong man, still unsure of his identity, but in reality, she didn’t care. He stood in her way. She would fight her own father if he stood on that very ground. Angie raised her gun in the air, but the man batted it away sending it flying down the mine, just inches from DiNolfo’s feet. The shadow of the man pushed Angie back and kicked her square in the chest sending her falling to the dirt ground below. As Angie went to get up, Tommy Morrow’s foot met with her jaw, knocking her front teeth clear out of her mouth. DiNolfo bent down and picked up Angie’s gun. It was identical to the Glock 17 that was registered to Hunter McCord and reported missing on the day of the first murder. DiNolfo grabbed her handcuffs off of her belt loop and approached Angie carefully. Though Angie had been delivered a swift and unyielding kick to the chest and the jaw, she remained conscious, seething on the mine floor.