Page 14 of Shadow of Death
“Oh, my God, Hunter, you had me scared to death! Why haven’t you been answering?” Amy demanded. “Carey Allen is worried sick about a friend who was with her. Agents are trying to discover if he’s all right or if... Oh, Hunter! You jerk. I was becoming just as scared!”
“Amy, you know me. You know that I’m careful—”
“And you took off alone. And you didn’t answer—”
“The caves don’t like cell phones. We’re going to have to get walkie-talkies or something because we’re going to have to dig deeper—literally—into what is going on here. Did Carey say anything helpful? Did she see anyone?”
“How are you on the phone now?” she demanded.
“I’m outside the caves again.”
“I’m at the entrance now, and I don’t see you anywhere!”
“Because I found another way out—and in. I’m heading back out. We’re going to need to get some experts and more forensic workers out here. I passed at least three other areas where the land gives way to pits. These are a little lower and a little easier to see and avoid. But if there is someone in any of them... Well, we need more help to thoroughly search.”
“Gotcha. But I’m still going to smash your head—with a pillow!” she said angrily.
Hunter smiled. “Okay, and I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t panic so easily regarding me. You need to have faith in me.”
“You don’t want me to care so much that I worry?”
“I didn’t mean—I’m sorry!”
“You’re almost forgiven.”
“Good. What about Carey Allen? Did she see anyone who—who was responsible? Did someone throw her in or—”
“No, she wasn’t thrown in, but she was with a friend. A guy she had a crush on—Don Blake. Agents and police are searching for him right now. He’s an ad exec with Barrington Advertising, the same company Carey works for. She’s terrified something awful happened to him, and she’s convinced it’s her fault because she talked him into coming out with her for an adventure. You didn’t come upon more bodies did you?”
“Not that I could see. But there are more mud pits. I’m heading back through the second entrance to see if someone smuggled the unwilling in this way. There are parts you’d have to have real control over someone to navigate, but it’s more than possible. I’m going to lose you so I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you in about ten minutes.”
Hunter made his way along the second corridor within the caves, paralleling the track he had taken. At first, as he reached the area where he thought he should have found the pit, he came across rock. Then he realized that—as at the opening he’d discovered—the rock hid the narrow pathways one might take to stand across the pit from the access point that had been achieved by Carey and then by Amy and him—and then the crime scene people, forensics, and medical examiners.
He could see Amy talking with one of the forensic team as he made his way around the rock. He waved to her and warned, “Stay there, I’ll make my way around the edge.”
It could be precarious, he knew, but knowing made it possible to hug the cavern walls as he skirted the giant pit of muck and mud. He could picture what had been done, though he was certain the medical examiner’s office would help him see more clearly. The killer—or killers—had rendered his victims pliable. Most likely they had been unconscious, either through drugs or a blow to the head. The victims had been dragged through and dumped. There was no footing to find to crawl out of this pit—this one was deep. And tours didn’t come far enough in for anyone to hear a scream unless that scream had come at certain times.
Again, he thought whoever had done this knew the park’s schedule and just when rangers would and would not be in the vicinity.
Did that mean Carey Allenhadbeen an accidental victim?
Possibly. Maybe even probably. But impossible at this point to know for sure.
Amy held back as he approached her. Of course, by then several forensic team members had hurried over as well, anxious to hear his description of where he had been.
“This is Carson Meyer, director of the teams we have here tonight. He’s gradually shifting teams,” Amy said, “but—”
“But I will be here through until morning,” the man Amy had been speaking with—CSI Carson Meyer—told him. “We’ve been at it for hours now and need fresh eyes and strength,” he added dryly.
Meyer had been working it hard enough, Hunter noted. He was a man in his late thirties or early forties, straight, lean, and wiry with close-cropped dark hair and serious gray eyes. He was covered in mud. Hunter realized he was probably rough looking himself.
“There’s a shaft I just came through that leads to another area like this, and the entry appears invisible from here because there’s a rock just feet away that causes it all to blend into the cave walls until you’re right on top of it. There would be no way to suspect it was there. It ends in much the same manner out on the other side, around the corner from where we’ve been parking. There is also a labyrinth of smaller caverns and a dozen twists and turns I followed from the entry over there.” He paused and pointed to the path he had taken. “There are more pits. I didn’t see more victims, but I didn’t go into the pits. We need more light back there.”
“And personnel,” Meyer murmured. “But we’ll get on it. We won’t stop. I promise you.”
Hunter nodded. “Thank you.”
“No, man, thank you,” Meyer said, studying Hunter. “We’re not happy you found a bunch of dead people, but the list of missing persons around here had gotten long and...well, I’m in forensics. But our local cops are going to be grateful as hell.”
