Across the basin floor was the other end of the operation — the underground mine. A square black hole in the wall of the mountain, held open by concrete support beams. Metal tracks ran into and out of the wide mouth.
I supposed at one time the tracks had been used to help move men and equipment down into the earth. Now they looked dull and rusty from lack of use. I could see places where the metal had been torn up and not replaced. I remembered what Violet Fox had said about the coal in the underground mine running out and how it had been idle for some time now. It was easy to tell that the focus had shifted to stripping off the mountain one layer at a time. That’s what all the equipment was here for — to cart coal and dirt away, not bring it up out of the ground. Not anymore.
More tracks curved around the far side of the basin and disappeared from sight. According to Finn’s map, they led to another area where the coal was stored and processed, among other things. I had a lot of knowledge about a lot of subjects, thanks to all the classes that I’d taken at Ashland Community College, but coal mining wasn’t one of them.
But even from my high vantage point, I could hear the stone of the mountain. Growling, snarling, cursing, muttering. The stone was supremely angry at the cruel damage that had been done to it. Once upon a time, this must have been a lovely spot, with steep slopes, trees, and rocky outcroppings as far as the eye could see. But now there was nothing left but stripped, bare earth, rock, and machinery. The stone’s vibrations made me want to draw on my magic, to make the whole mine, the whole rest of the mountain, crumble down and bury the men and machines that had been so cruel to her. But I didn’t have that kind of power, and it wouldn’t help Warren and Violet in any way. So I gritted my teeth and forced the feeling aside.
It was after six now and already growing dark. I passed the binoculars to Donovan Caine, so the detective could watch the workers climb down off their machines and head out of the basin. I kept scanning the area, fixing the overall layout in my mind. It would be easy to lose your sense of direction among the massive machines, especially with the rainy twilight rapidly giving way to full night.
“I don’t see anything much. Just machines,” Donovan Caine said.
“Look down to the left at the edge of the basin. Down there.” I pointed to a small, white building that gleamed like a dull moon. “That’s where some of the mine offices are, including Dawson’s, according to the information Finn gave me.”
“What do you expect to find in there?” Caine asked, peering through the binoculars at the structure. “I doubt Tobias Dawson just leaves incriminating evidence lying around.”
I shrugged and got to my feet. I took a moment to swipe the dead, damp leaves from the knees of my jeans.
“Maybe, maybe not. Dawson’s the big boss around here, remember? This is his mountain. He might be sloppy enough to leave things out in the open.”
“And if not?”
I shrugged again and tied one end of the rope around the base of a nearby pine tree. After I made sure it was securely knotted, I tossed the rest of it down the ridge below us. “Then at least we’ll have gotten our exercise for the evening.”
I reached into my back jeans pocket and held out a pair of gloves to him. They were gardening gloves, white with brown trowels on them, but they’d keep us from getting rope burn on our hands — or leaving fingerprints in Tobias Dawson’s office.
“Now, are you coming or not?”
Donovan Caine let out a low curse. But the detective took the gloves from me and started pulling them onto his hands.
——
For whatever reason, the miners hadn’t dug out this side of the mountain yet, which meant the ridge was still covered with rocks and gnarled vegetation. It was a steep, slippery slope, made more so by the drizzle, and we moved with care, using the rope to help us walk our way down the embankment. We moved as quickly as we could, but it still took us almost twenty minutes to reach the bottom.
We crouched behind an outcropping of rock and peered into the flat area that stretched out before us. The empty, dug-out feel of the mountain reminded me of the Ashland Rock Quarry not too far from here. The place where Alexis James had met her death two months ago.
Donovan looked through the binoculars again. “It seems like everyone’s gone home already,” he murmured.
“I don’t even think there are any guards around.”
“Why would there be?” I asked. “Nobody around here’s going to be dumb enough to steal from Tobias Dawson. Especially not since he’s such good friends with Mab Monroe. Besides, even if somebody did steal something, he’d look a little conspicuous driving a bulldozer down into the city, now wouldn’t he?”
Caine snorted at the image, but he didn’t argue with my logic.
“Come on,” I said. “Let’s get this over with.”
We eased out from behind the rocks and walked forward.
The metal equipment cast out all sorts of dark, twisted shadows, made even murkier by the drizzle and thick clouds overhead. A couple of tall, parking lot-style lights next to the mine entrance burned like skinny yellow lanterns. The lights made it easy enough to navigate our way through the equipment maze. But the rain couldn’t quite drown out the smell of exhaust and gasoline that hung in the air like smog.
The stone’s murmurs grew louder and sharper the farther I walked into the basin, until the vibrations rang in my ears like a never-ending death wail. I gritted my teeth and blocked out the noise. There was nothing I could do to help the stone. I just didn’t have that kind of power.
Only time could do that now — if the mountain could ever truly recover from being so viciously brutalized.
It took us about ten minutes of walking before we were within sight of the mine office, a small building made out of sheet metal and fiberglass, covered up with whitewashed wooden boards. A couple of security lights glowed over the front door. I peered into the darkness, but I didn’t see any guards patrolling around the building.
If Tobias Dawson did have a night shift, they’d probably be farther up around the curve in the basin, stationed at the front entrance to the mined mountain. Not back here in the bottleneck where access was already restricted.
Still, I palmed one of my silverstone knives, just in case.
We crouched behind a bulldozer that was the closest one to the mining office. Nothing moved in the dark night. The drizzle had picked up and turned into a steady rain. A few damp tendrils had come undone from my ponytail. The rain had turned my chocolate locks an even darker brown, and I used the cold moisture to slick them back into place.
“Come on,” I whispered to the detective. “Let’s do this.”
I crept forward. After a moment, I heard Donovan’s boots squish in a puddle behind me. I smiled. Just like old times. If a mere two months ago could be considered old times.
I eased over to the front door of the mining office. A sign on the side read Dawson Mining Company. Once again, the first two is in Mining had been transformed into Tobias Dawson’s rune — a lit stick of dynamite.
I wore the same kind of gardening gloves Donovan Caine did, so I had no qualms about reaching forward and trying the doorknob. Locked. Not a problem. I pulled off one of my gloves and reached for my Ice magic.
The cold, silver light flickered over my palm, and a few seconds later, I had two long, slender Ice picks. Donovan watched me work with a mixture of curiosity and resignation.
Less than a minute later, the lock slid home, and the door opened.