Shadow Bones (18 page)

She backed away and saw a recent break in a wall. It must have happened when the explosion happened. She poked around and shoved a few boulders out of the way, then moved deeper into the tunnel and shone her light around again.

A heap of clothing back in a small niche caught her eye. “What is that?” she muttered.

“What's wrong?” Jake stooped and peered inside, though he didn't follow her in.

“Hang on a minute.” She crawled toward the clothing. As she got closer, she froze when her gaze lit on bones. Human bones still clothed with jeans and a flannel shirt. She swept the light over the figure.

“No,” she whispered. Horror closed her throat, and she struggled to scream past the constriction. Her gaze took in the bloodstains on the shirt and the knife still sticking from the chest.

Her father's chest.

Gasping and mewling, she backpedaled away from the sight.

“Skye, what is it?” Jake was beside her in the mine.

“There.” She pointed. Shudders wracked her.

Jake took the flashlight and swept it over the figure. “Let's get out of here.” His voice echoed off the walls of the tunnel.

She let him pull her from the enclosure, her mind still not registering what she'd seen. She had to be wrong, but she knew she was right. It was her father's remains.

“You're all right, I've got you.” Jake drew her to her feet in the sweet, clean air.

She drew in a deep breath as he hugged her to his chest. She dropped the light on the ground.

“Can you talk about it?”

“It—it's my dad. He's in there.” She shuddered, still unable to believe her own eyes. “He's dead.”

“It's not your dad. It can't be. That poor soul has been dead a long time.”

“No, you don't understand. He's wearing the clothes he wore the day he disappeared. He never deserted us. He was killed.”

She clasped her arms around herself. “Peter killed my father.”

“I'
m sorry you had to see that. I thought I'd get here before you showed up.”

Jake whirled at the voice. Peter stood right behind them, his right hand holding a pistol.

Gone were the gentle tones Jake had heard the man use with Skye. She was staring at Peter as if she'd never seen him before.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “The Peter I know wouldn't do this.”

Jake looked down the bore of the gun. His gaze traveled up Peter's arm to his face and saw the flat stare of a man who had nothing to lose. Jake tensed and his thoughts whirled as he tried to figure out how to save Skye and himself from the man holding the gun.

“You killed him, didn't you? You killed my father.” She shuddered, and tears trickled from her eyes.

“He'd always taken what I wanted. Always.” Peter's eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Your mother
was engaged to me first. You never knew that, did you?”

“You were my dad's best friend.” Skye shook her head, her eyes clouded.

“I'd finally had enough. He taunted me one last time with what he had and I didn't. When he found the diamonds, it was the final straw.”

“He found the diamonds?” Her mouth dropped open. “In the Mitchell tube! You caused the explosion so I wouldn't find them, didn't you?”

Peter shrugged. “The tunnel was unstable and our scuffle caused a cave-in. I couldn't dig him out without causing more cave-ins.”

“So you had to keep me from opening Mitchell tube.”

“Your mother meant more to me than the diamonds. I had enough money for us.”

“So you just didn't want me to find my father's body. That's why you wouldn't let me open the tube. If I'd gone far enough with the extraction, you would have been exposed.” She shook her head. “But why did you hire an assayer?” She put her hand over her mouth. “You hired him to tell me there weren't any diamonds, right? So I'd give up the search.”

Peter's eyes hardened. “I've loved you like a daughter, Skye, but I can't let you take everything from me. Both of you, move into the tunnel.”

“So
you
shot at us, put the snake in my truck, all of it?” Skye's voice was thick with tears.

“Let's say I commissioned a little help. It was easy
to flame Tallulah's hatred. And Cameron was too greedy.” He held out his hand. “I'll take my key back.”

“Your key?” Skye pulled it slowly from her pocket.

“When you mentioned it at dinner, I knew I'd better get it back. Fingerprints and all that.” Peter snatched it from her hand, then smiled and motioned with the gun. “Now move into the tunnel.”

Jake was shaking his head before Peter finished talking. No way was he going in that tight space. He'd shocked himself by going inside when Skye fell apart. He clenched his fists. Better to die out here under the open sky.

His muscles coiled to spring forward, but before he could think, Peter stepped forward and thumped him across the forehead. He pitched forward, darkness descending too quickly to resist.

 

Skye's numbness broke as she saw Jake sag to the ground. “No!” She launched herself toward Peter, and they both tumbled to the ground. “Don't hurt him.”

Peter tossed her off like she weighed nothing, then was on his feet in an instant. The gun was pointed at Jake. “I'd love to drill loverboy,” he said. “Give me a reason and he's dead.”

She drew in a deep breath and sat up. “I'll be good. Don't hurt him.”

“I loved you, Skye.” He looked genuinely remorseful. “I tried to scare you into shutting down the mine, and I tried to get rid of Baxter so it would never come to this. It's going to kill your mother.”

“What are you going to do?”

He motioned with the gun. “Drag him into the shaft.”

“No! He hates caves.”

“What a shame,” he said, a sarcastic edge to his voice. “Loverboy has a flaw. Do what I say or I'll put a bullet in his brain, and he'll never be afraid again.”

He would do it, too. She could see it in the flat stare he gave. No redeeming emotion lingered there. He was a man determined to do what had to be done.

She got slowly to her feet and moved toward Jake. There had to be some way out of this.

“Get a move on,” Peter said sharply.

She grabbed Jake by the shoulders and began to drag him into the mine opening. He was a big man and hard to move. Rivulets of perspiration had ran down her face and her back by the time she'd managed to get him into the tunnel.

It was pitch-black inside the mine. The flashlight was on Jake's belt, but she didn't dare turn it on. Peter might take it from her, and she didn't think she could bear to be without light of any kind.

She propped Jake against the wall and turned to plead with Peter again. Feeling her way, she moved toward the mouth of the tunnel when a great explosion knocked her to the ground.

 

Jake swam slowly up from the dark. Where was he? Blinking his eyes, he smelled the dank odor of earth. Damp crept along his bones, and he felt a hard rock poking his ribs.

“Jake, Jake, wake up.” Skye was shaking his shoulder, and he realized he'd been hearing her for some time.

He moved his head and groaned as a shaft of pure agony shot along the right side of his face and centered in his ear. He rubbed his head and felt a sticky goose egg under his hair. “Where are we?”

“Don't freak, okay?” She helped him to sit up, and he leaned against what felt like rock to his back. Memory came flooding back. Peter. The gun. He groaned as another wave of pain and nausea swept over him.

“Where's Peter?”

“He's gone.” Skye rubbed his back. “I wish I had some feverfew for your head,” she fretted.

Jake froze as he opened his eyes as wide as he could and still saw nothing but total darkness. “Am I blind?”

“No, no.” She paused. “At least I don't think so.”

“Why is it so dark?” He put out a groping hand, wanting light with the desperation of a drowning man seeking a life jacket. His hand touched Skye's arm, and he gripped it.

“We—we're in the mine shaft.” Skye put her arms around him.

He clung to her as the words sank in. Panic began to play at the edges of his reason. “Let's get out of here!” He felt along the rock wall, seeking an opening.

“Peter caved in the opening. An explosion of some kind. It's bad, Jake. I don't see any way out.”

He heard fear and panic in Skye's voice, and it brought his mind into focus. He had to stay calm, had
to save them both. Hugging her tightly to his chest, he patted her hair. “It's okay, we'll figure a way out.”

She gave a shaky breath and nodded. “We have the flashlight. It was on your belt. I didn't want to use it until you woke up.”

“How long was I out?” His chest felt tight.

“About an hour, I think.” Skye sounded a little calmer.

The air smelled stale and dank, and Jake's throat tightened even more as he tried to draw in his breath in lungs that felt too large for his chest.
Help me, Lord
. “What's the verse you told me once—the one about not being afraid.”

Skye was silent a moment then she recited in a voice that gained strength as she went along, “God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and a sound mind.”

He fastened all his hope on that verse, and felt a lightness spread through him. In this dark place, God's promises were the only illumination they had. And he was finding out more and more, that was all he needed.

“Let's pray for that sound mind right now. God knows we're here. He'll help us figure out what to do.” They held hands while Jake prayed for courage and strength. He asked God to take charge of their lives. As he prayed, he felt the panic receding and a calmness he didn't know he possessed took charge of his limbs. Why had he been so afraid of this?

“Here's the flashlight.” Skye pressed the cold, hard tube of the flashlight into his hand.

The comforting feel of the grip and the solid heft of
the light encouraged him. He flipped it on and shone the light around the area. The panic threatened again when he saw how closed in they were.

“Got any idea how to get out of here?” He swallowed back the panic, praying silently again for courage. The sharp edge of his fear began to dull again, little by little.

“Turn the light off a minute and let me think.”

Turn the light off. Was she nuts? He gripped the ribbed tube of the flashlight. No way was he going back into the dark.

“We need to conserve the light.” Skye grabbed the flashlight and switched it off.

The tunnel plunged into darkness, and Jake's stomach plunged with it. His lungs squeezed tight, and he gasped.

“Breathe,” Skye said, taking his hand. “I'm right here. And so is God.”

“I know,” he croaked. He forced air past the constriction in his windpipe. The dots in front of his eyes settled down.

“This main tunnel used to connect with the Mitchell tube,” she said. “That's caved in now.”

“Are there any other tunnels leading down a minor tube? Or is there anything in here to dig with? Maybe we can get out that way.” His muscles bunched, eager to do something, anything.

“I don't know. Let's explore.” She handed the light back to him.

He flipped it on. The sudden infusion of light brought
hope with it. He told himself not to look at the sloping walls and the low ceiling. Standing, he took Skye's hand, and they walked toward where the tunnel turned. He had to bend over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling.

They wandered for what seemed like hours down the tight tunnel until they finally came to a cave-in. The light was dimming, and he glanced at his watch. It had only been twenty minutes.

“Better turn it off again.”

He knew she was right, but he froze at her request. Finally moving his stiff thumb, he flipped it off. It seemed hopeless. There was no way out. His nerves felt on fire, as though he would burst into flame at any minute. Skye was depending on him. They had to get out.

No one would miss them until morning. His family all knew they'd intended to stake out the dig all night. They wouldn't come looking until at least noon tomorrow, he guessed. They'd look at the dig, and there would be nothing to guide them to this remote spot.

“How deep is the rockfall? Could anyone hear us tomorrow if we banged right here?”

“I don't think so. The cave-in covered a lot of area. We could try though.” She slipped cold fingers into his. “I'm tired. Can we sit and rest a while?”

The last thing he wanted was to just sit and ignore the problem, but he squeezed her hand. “Sure.”

He sat beside her on the cold, dank earth again. She shivered, and he slipped his arm around her. “I wish I had my jacket.”

“Your arm will do.”

She snuggled against his side, and he leaned his head on her hair. Entwined like this, their situation didn't seem quite so dire, but he knew he was kidding himself. Death by starvation and dehydration wasn't a pleasant thought.

“We're going to die, aren't we?” Skye's voice was too quiet and soft, tinged with resignation.

“No, we'll find a way out.” He forced conviction into his voice. She was depending on him to stay strong, to keep them focused.

“I'm okay with it. At least we'll be together.” Her fingers tightened against his shirt. “I can say this now in the dark. I never thought I could love a man like I love you. You're everything I ever dreamed of, Jake. I wish we could have had all those years, raised children together, fought and loved and dreamed. I think I could even have left the island for you.” Her voice grew choked.

A ball of emotion formed in his throat. “We'll have that yet, my sweet Skye. I'm not giving up.” Determination replaced fear. He wanted all those things with this woman. “If we get out of here, you won't have to leave the island. I'll stay here and work on the dig here. That should last me a lot of years.”

Funny how that sacrifice seemed so small now that they were faced with death. Reality had a funny way of putting things in perspective.

She leaned up and kissed his jaw. He found her face in the dark and rubbed his thumb over her high cheek
bones, along the silky fall of her hair. Leaning down, he kissed her, a lingering caress that fueled his resolve. “I love you,” he whispered. “So much. My life was empty before I met you.”

She returned his kiss then burrowed her face against his chest again. They sat like that for several long moments, then he kissed the top of her head and released her. “We've got to find a way out.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. Flipping on the flashlight again, he shone it around the tight confines. The light only illuminated smooth walls. Then he spied a shadow along the floor of one wall.

“What's that?” He stepped closer. “Looks like a crawl space.” He got on his hands and knees and peered under. “I can't see anything. It's too small for me to crawl under.”

“Let me try.” Skye got on her belly and stuck her head and arms through the opening. “Hand me the light.” Her voice was muffled.

He slipped the flashlight into her hand and she pulled it to the other side. She could see a faint illumination from the other room. “I think I see outside—looks like moonlight! And there's a box here.”

“What's in it?”

A faint scraping sound came to his ears. “Explosives, I think. They must be what Peter used to blow up the Mitchell tube.” Her head reemerged. “I can't get the box through here, but I can get some dynamite.”

“Can you get through to the other side?”

She shook her head. “It's too tight.” She stuck her head through again.

There was more scraping and banging from the other side of the wall. “I've almost got it,” she panted. She wiggled as she struggled with whatever was on the other side of the wall. “Got it!” She backed out of the hole and triumphantly held up two sticks of dynamite.