"The storm will pass soon," he told her, taking Sara's arm and leading her to the seat. "It's okay," he soothed. "We used to come here after school."
"Why?" she asked, thinking this was as close to being buried alive as she ever wanted to come. Even sitting down, she could feel the cave looming over her. She reached out, grabbing Jeffrey's hand.
"It's okay," he repeated, finally sensing her fear. He put his arm around her and kissed the side of her head.
Sara leaned into him, asking, "How did you find this place?"
"It's near the quarry," he told her. "Robert came across it one day while we were out looking for arrowheads."
"Arrowheads?"
"This area was filled with Indians. Creek at first, then Shawnee warriors. They called it Chalakagay. DeSoto's records mention the town in the early 1500s." He paused. "Of course, the government came in around 1836 and moved them all out west." He stopped again. "Sara, I don't want kids."
The sound of rain filled the cave, sounding like a thousand brooms sweeping across the rock.
"I didn't exactly have the best role models growing up, and who knows what the hell my genes will pass on."
She put her fingers to his lips. "Tell me more about the Indians."
He kissed her fingers, then asked, "Why, you want something to help you sleep?"
Sara laughed, and she realized with a start that she could stay here forever as long as he kept talking. She repeated, "Tell me more."
He paused, probably trying to think of what to say. "You can't see it, but there's a lot of marble in here. Not enough to get the quarry folks interested, but you can see the veins along the back wall. That's why the air is so cool. Are you cold?"
"No, just soaking wet."
He pulled her closer and she put her head in the crook of his neck, thinking that everything would be okay if they could just stay this way until the storm passed.
He continued, "We stole this bench seat from an old car out in the junkyard. Possum's probably still got the scars on his ass from the dog we had to wrestle for it. The coffee table was out by the road for trash pickup. We carried it two miles up the highway to get it here." He laughed good-naturedly. "We thought we had it made."
"I bet you brought girls here all the time."
"Are you kidding? They were afraid of spiders."
"Spiders?" She stiffened.
"Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of spiders."
"I'm just afraid of things crawling on me that I can't see." He stood up, and she asked, "Where are you going?"
"Hold on," he told her, and she could hear his hand feeling along the wall of the cave. "We used to keep a coffee can…" He stopped, and she heard the jangle of metal against metal. "Aha. More matches. Possum got them out of the back of a comic book. They're supposed to be waterproof."
Sara tucked her feet underneath her, keeping her back flat to the seat. Crazy as it was, she had the unnatural fear that something – or someone – would reach out and touch her shoulder.
"Here we go," he said, striking a match. She could see his face in the light as he held the flame to a small utility candle. There was a flicker, and she held her breath, not breathing until the wick caught.
"I can't believe it still works after all this time."
In the flickering light, Sara saw a form behind him. Her heart jumped into her throat and she gasped so loudly that Jeffrey startled, banging his head against the ceiling.
He looked behind him, shouting, "Jesus Christ!" In his haste to get away, he tripped against the coffee table, unable to catch himself before he hit the ground.
Sara panicked, reaching out for the candle. Hot wax burned her hand, but she managed to keep the flame from blowing out. Her heart was pounding so hard that her ribs ached.
"Christ," Jeffrey said, brushing dirt off his jeans. "What the fuck is that?"
Sara forced herself to stand, and walked over to the skeleton that had scared her so much seconds before.
The remains were laid on a rock that jutted out like a seat. Though the bones looked yellowed with age, sinew remained in a few areas, probably because of the coolness of the cave. Part of the left leg down to the foot was missing, as well as some fingers on the right hand. Even in the dim candlelight, Sara could see the teeth marks where some kind of rodent had gnawed skin from the bone. She held the candle up to the head, which had tilted sideways and become lodged in a crevice between two rocks. The skull was fractured on the right side, the bone collapsed into the braincase from the force of what must have been a very heavy object.
She looked back at Jeffrey just in time to see him slip something into his pocket.
His tone was defensive. "What?"
Sara turned back to the skeleton. "I think this person was murdered."
Chapter Thirteen
1:58 P.M.
Lena was gritting her teeth so hard her jaw hurt. Wagner wasn't saying much into the phone, but Lena and probably everyone in the cleaners could hear the shooter screaming on the other end.
Wagner said, "Why don't you tell me your name?" Only to be answered with a barked laugh. When she asked about the children, the only response she got was a little girl yelling into the phone. The sound echoed in the room, and Lena fought the urge to cover her ears.
Wagner remained calm. "I take it that means you're holding on to the children?"
The answer was mumbled, but the shooter's last demand was loud and clear, especially since Wagner held the phone a few inches from her ear to deflect the sound. "One hour, bitch. You take any longer than that, the body count's gonna get a lot higher."
Despite the threat, Wagner smiled as she closed her cell phone. "Well," she said. "They want beer."
Lena opened her mouth to restate her offer to volunteer, but Wagner held up a finger for silence, saying, to Frank and Nick, "Gentlemen, if I could have a moment of your time?"
The two men followed her into Bill Burgess's office. Wagner smiled at Lena before shutting the door. It was a cat's smile, and Lena could not tell if the woman was being polite or warning her off. Either way, Lena would fight tooth and nail to be the one to go into the station. She had to do her part. Jeffrey had allowed her back on the force despite what everyone in town was saying. The worst crime was that he was lying dead right now and Lena was alive.
Molly Stoddard had been leaning against the folding table, but she stood up and knocked on the door to Burgess's office. She entered without waiting for a reply, closing the door behind her.
Lena watched Wagner's guys for a reaction, but they seemed uninterested. One of them was talking so low on his cell phone she wondered if he was just moving his lips, and the other two were leaned over a map of the station, pointing to different areas like they were hatching a plan. They had not been able to get a camera into the air-conditioning vent because the shooters had blocked them with clothing.
She walked over to see what they were planning. The guy on the cell phone ended the call. He told her, "Jennings was killed in a six-car pile-up outside Friendswood, Texas, last year."
"You're kidding," she said, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of her.
The guy added, "There were two kids in the back. One of them walked away from the accident. That's good, right?"
"Yeah," Lena said, though she doubted the kid felt lucky. She had seen the kind of damage Jennings was capable of firsthand. That the animal had died in such a seemingly normal way was just wrong.
The office door opened and Amanda Wagner came out followed by Frank. Nick and Molly were still inside, and Lena could see that Molly was using the phone on old man Burgess's desk. Her head was bent down and she had her hand wrapped around the back of her neck like she wanted to keep the conversation private.
Wagner's man repeated the information about Jennings. His boss said, "Well, it was a long shot anyway." She motioned Lena toward the office. "Follow me."