CHAPTER SEVEN

Kinzel apparently didn't need Jones for long. He apparently didn't need himself for long, either. Both men were available to escort Faith and Michael up Grass Mountain that very afternoon.

"Shoulda thought about the caves," Jones said, showing not a shred of guilt. He had probably forgotten that emotion years ago. "Probably got lost in there."

"It seems likely," Kinzel said tersely. He didn't seem to be as free of remorse as Jones.

Faith wasn't interested in judging them, though. Not that she had any moral ground to stand on, even if she did want to judge. "How far do these caves extend?"

"Who knows?" Jones said. "The parts the tourists are allowed into are something like eleven miles all told."

"Eleven miles?" Faith exclaimed.

"Well, not eleven miles in one direction," Jones elaborated. "They twist and turn a lot. But yeah, I remember reading somewhere that there are twenty-something miles of caves and eleven of them are considered safe to explore, not including the mine. Although, I don't know if the mine ever actually went all the way to the cave network. Anyway, the point is it's pretty easy to get lost down there."

"Let's not assume our missing persons are dead until we find bodies," Kinzel said. "At the moment, this is still a search and rescue."

A search and rescue with no search parties, no medical support and no vehicles , Faith thought. Tell me about that bridge you're selling again?

Jones showed less restraint than Faith. "If this were a search and rescue, marshal, I would have someone a few rungs higher than you on the ladder telling me to screw off and come back with coffee. And I'd have people a few rungs higher than them—" he hooked a thumb at the back seat where Faith, Turk and Michael sat, "making sure everyone knew they were in charge without actually doing anything."

Michael chuckled at that. Kinzel looked at Faith, and she lifted her hands.

He sighed but didn't say anything to confirm or deny the claim.

The old Bronco jounced and jostled its way up the rough mountain road for another ten minutes before Jones pulled to a stop. The four of them got out and stood in front of a small entrance, maybe seven feet by three feet. It amazed Faith how unimpressive the cave appeared from the outside. In her mind, she expected a giant gaping maw from which unholy moans and whispers would emerge.

Turk walked to the entrance of the cave, then gingerly stepped inside, going no further than the light shone. He sniffed around, looking for clues, and Faith marveled at his bravery.

That thought occurred an instant before a noise, exactly like a moan, emerged from the cave. Turk yelped and rushed to Faith's side. Faith's skin crawled, and she barely suppressed a flinch.

Jones chuckled and said, "Yeah, we call this the Spirit entrance. Kind of arbitrary since you can hear these noises from any entrance. The wind blows through the tunnels, and when it comes out, it makes this kind of low moan as you heard. Of course, the locals all choose to believe that it's haunted."

"Haunted? By what?"

"We can talk about superstition later," Kinzel interrupted. "We have a case to focus on right now."

"Superstition is often rooted in fact," Faith countered, "and I'd like a chance to determine if these suspicions might lead us to the facts of the case."

Kinzel glowered but fell silent.

"Haunted by ghosts," Jones said, "Miners, spelunkers, hikers, disobedient children, you name it. This is basically the town legend. At some point, everyone who dies ends up here for the express purpose of exhaling every time a newcomer shows up. I guess when you're dead, you'll take whatever humor you can get."

"When was the last disappearance attributed to the ghosts?" Faith asked.

"No idea. Like I said, it's become the catch-all bad guy for the town. No one knows for sure what's real and what isn't."

"Hmm," Faith said. "Can we go inside?"

Jones looked toward the horizon. The sun was a sliver, just barely peeking over the edge. As they watched, that sliver disappeared. "Not a good idea," he said. "We can be out here first thing in the morning with some uniforms to start a thorough search, but even with flashlights, I wouldn't want to be in those caverns after dark. It's too easy to lose track of where you are."

Faith looked into the darkening entrance and wondered what Tyler's and Clara's last thoughts might have been as they realized that their lives were coming to an end. They were less than five miles from their homes, but they might as well have been on another planet.

"Got anything, Turk?" she asked.

Turk snorted and dipped his head, a sign of frustration and a clear answer to Faith's question. She sighed and said, "All right. Let's head back down."

On the way down, she thought again of their victims, lost in that underground maze. She wondered if their cries joined those of the other ghosts now.

They returned to the police station, and Kinzel led them to the conference room. A map of Granger and the surrounding territory was spread out on the table.

"We have teams staking out the roads here, here, and here." Kinzel placed pins on the map near the 95 and state highways 13 and 14. "Granger PD is focusing on the backroads and forest trails."

"Is anyone watching the cave system?" Faith asked.

"Not at the moment," Kinzel replied. "We'll be investigating during daylight hours."

"We'll stake out Spirit Cave," Faith said. "If Tooley really is kidnapping people for ransom, then the caves seem the most likely place to do it."

"I can't see him doing that successfully," Jones replied. "He's not a local. He wouldn't know the first thing about this cave system. He would get lost in there."

"Frankly, he probably is," Faith said, "and when we start looking through the cave system in earnest tomorrow, we might find him then. But for tonight, I want eyes on the entrance in case we catch him, or anyone else, entering or exiting."

"You're not going to find anything in the dark," Jones insisted.

"Turk's nose works in low light too," Faith assured him.

"We've had dogs all over the mountains since before you arrived," Kinzel countered. "They didn't find anything."

"They're not Turk," Faith replied simply.

Kinzel's lips thinned. "Is Turk some special breed of German Shepherd with an unusually powerful nose?"

"Are you some special breed of asshole with an unusually snarky tongue?" Michael fired back.

Faith lifted a hand for calm and said, "Marshal, you asked for our help in this case. We're offering it to you. I suggest you accept it. We all lose in a pissing contest."

Kinzel's lips thinned further, but he nodded curtly. "Very well. I'll be here coordinating. If you find anything, call me immediately."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Marshal, sir," Jones said with a playful grin.

Michael turned around so Kinzel wouldn't see his smile.

"You two can take the truck," Jones said, "I like my Jeep better anyway."

He tossed Faith the keys. She caught them with one hand and said, "Thank you. We'll head out now."

When they left the room, Michael asked. "You sure you don't want to wait until morning?"

"No," Faith said, "We have two people missing."

"We have two people dead, Faith," Michael replied. "Let's be reasonable."

"That doesn't mean that we give up," she countered. "Miracles happen. Even if they don't happen in this case, there's a chance we could at least catch their murderer."

"I'm just worried that we're going to end up sleep-deprived and not functional in the morning," Michael said. "I'm not trying to whine about needing sleep, but the reality is we do need sleep, and there have been cases in the past where not getting enough of it has threatened our judgment."

"I understand that," Faith said, "but Tooley will almost certainly know that as well. Or whoever the killer is. They'll be moving at night when they know we're less likely to look. So we have to look."

"All right," Michael said, "that's fine with me. Maybe we just take turns sleeping when we get to the top."

"Sure," Faith said. "That works.

She didn't anticipate needing sleep that badly, but if Michael needed it, he was welcome to it. Faith's larger concern was his general disconnect from the case. It seemed to her that he had checked out and was only here to do the minimal amount of work necessary to solve the case and go home so he could get back to Ellie and away from Faith.

She told herself that she was just being paranoid, but when they reached the old SUV and Michael immediately leaned back in the passenger seat and closed his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder if this was his way of avoiding her. When Turk also closed his eyes and settled in for a nap, she decided she really was just being paranoid and let it go.

She looked out the window at the narrow sliver of crescent moon remaining. Tomorrow, the sky would be lit only by the stars, a breathtaking sight but a useless one as all of the stars combined couldn't offer enough light to dispel the shadow that fell over the landscape.

It occurred to her for the first time how truly sheltered urban environments were. In Philadelphia, night was never truly night. It was darker than the day, of course, but it was never hard to see where one was going. There were lights everywhere—streetlights, headlights, signs and even the glow of interior lights shining through windows and curtains.

She switched the Bronco's brights on, and a swath of road ahead illuminated enough for Faith to navigate around potholes and over the small rocks and ruts that lined the mountain road. It wasn't enough to banish the darkness, but it was enough to see where she was going.

That would have to suffice.