“You’re getting too close.”
Emory shook his head at Jeff’s comment. “Wayne never notices his surroundings. During one drug bust he walked into a dealer’s home and called, ‘Clear.’ I came in after him and noticed someone hiding behind the curtains.”
“Oh my god! I thought that only happened in Shakespeare. That actually worked?”
“It did on Wayne. And the guy was armed. After that, I always insisted on being the first in. I think he used to be a good agent. He just grew lazy.”
When Wayne turned onto another road, Emory spotted a barn he had seen before. “Do you realize where he’s going?”
Jeff looked ahead but didn’t recognize anything. “No. Where?”
“Brume Wood. The windfarm tract, the original one, is about ten miles ahead.”
“Well what are you waiting for? Gun it.”
“I can’t pass him now. He’ll see me.”
“I don’t care! We need to find Virginia!” Jeff stomped onto Emory’s right foot, accelerating them toward Wayne’s car.
“What are you doing? Get off me!”
Keeping his foot planted on Emory’s, Jeff pointed at Wayne’s car. “Pass, or you’re going to hit him!”
Emory swerved, causing his car to fishtail and straddle the line between the pavement and the shoulder. The rear passenger-side corner snapped one of the wooden legs of a sign welcoming people to Brume Wood. Emory regained control and held a hand to the side of his face as he passed Wayne and zoomed ahead. “Now get off me!” Jeff relented, and Emory tried to get his breathing back under control. “Damn it, you could’ve killed us!”
“Do you need a pill?”
Emory hated to admit it, but he did. “I’m out, and I haven’t had a chance to get a refill.”
“Oh.” Jeff pursed his lips and looked at the windshield. “Hey, keep up the pace. The more of a head start we have, the better.”
Emory did, slowing down only once they had reached the original windfarm tract. “We should’ve stayed behind Wayne. There are thirteen different properties within the tract. We have no idea which one it is.”
“Just keep driving around until we spot her car. It’s not a four-wheeler. It has to be on the road or in a driveway.”
They passed property after property, each of varying size and each with a posted auction sign. “There!” Jeff yelled at last.
Emory’s eyes followed his pointing finger. “I don’t see it.”
“It’s behind that house.”
Emory backed up and pulled onto the dirt driveway of the dilapidated white house. The driveway continued to the back of the house, where two vehicles were parked – Virginia’s black hybrid and a brown truck with more dents and scratches than square inches of untouched paint.
Jeff bolted from the passenger seat to inspect Virginia’s car. Once Emory joined him, he concluded, “Nothing’s amiss here.” Turning his attention to the truck, he saw the last hints of sunlight glinting from the silver frame around the Idaho license plate. “Damn Idahoans!”
Emory was a bit taken aback by the out-of-nowhere statement but not enough to ask about it at the moment. “This must be the surveyor’s. Clayton.” He opened the truck door. “There’s nothing in here. No papers, no devices.”
Jeff headed for the house and tried the back door. “Locked. Do you have a crowbar?”
“Hang on a second before you go breaking in.”
“Don’t start on the breaking and entering.”
“I wasn’t going to, but look at the dirt on the step. Yours are the only footprints.”
“Maybe they went in the front door.”
“Or maybe they didn’t go into the house at all.” Emory pointed to the trees at the other end of the property. “I think Mary Belle Hinter’s old property is on the other side of those woods.” He retrieved two flashlights from the trunk of his car, and the two searched the property in the dimming light.
“I wish there was fresh snowfall. I can’t see any tracks.” Jeff’s shoe kicked a metal box.
“What was that?”
“It looks kind of like a battery.”
Emory inspected the dashboard on top of the device. “I think this is an underground metal detector.”
“I guess we’re on the right track then.” They both aimed their beams down and crisscrossed the ground before them.
“Is that a sinkhole?” Emory fixed his light on a hole about six feet in diameter a few yards ahead of them.
“Look!” Jeff aimed his light at a rope tied around the base of the nearest tree, and he swept the beam along the length to the other end. “It stops at the hole.” The light continued to a fallen tripod next to the hole. “There’s some more equipment.” He started toward the hole.
“Be careful! There’s no telling how stable the surrounding ground is.”
Jeff stopped for a second before cat-stepping forward. “It’s got to be the surveyor’s rope. A couple of months ago, we were working on a lost dog case.”
“You look for lost dogs?”
“When the client pays me $5,000 to find her beloved Australian shepherd, I do. Anyway, we found him stuck on the side of a ravine at the foothills. Virginia wanted to rappel down to get him, but she didn’t have a rope in her car. We ended up calling the fire department.” Jeff reached where the rope touched the rim of the hole and pulled up its sliced end. He turned a worried face toward Emory. “It’s cut.”
“Crap. How deep does it look?”
“Virginia!” Jeff yelled into the black opening. He lowered himself onto his stomach, held the rocky rim and poked his head over the hole. “What’s the surveyor’s name?”
“Clayton.”
“Clayton!” Jeff waited for an answer before scooting away. “If someone’s down there…” He turned his ear back to the hole.
“Do you hear something?”
Jeff motioned him to be quiet, but there was no need. They both heard it this time – Virginia’s voice. “Down here!”
“Virginia! Are you hurt?!”
“Sore and weak, but okay! There’s someone else here! He’s not good!”
“It must be Clayton. I’ll call for help.” Emory walked a few feet away to make the call.
“Virginia, how far down are you?!”
“I can’t tell for sure! Fifty feet maybe!”
“Okay, just hang on! We’re going to get you out!”
Emory tried to call 911 but to no avail. “I’m not getting a signal. Can you try?”
Jeff looked at his phone. “Nothing.”
“What the hell is going on here?!”
Emory and Jeff jerked around to see who asked the question, and they saw a man with a flashlight approaching. Emory raised his flashlight to Wayne’s angry face, and the TBI agent shielded his eyes. “Get that damn light out of my face!”
Emory lowered the beam. “Wayne. Thank you for calling me back.”
“I don’t owe you a phone call. What are you doing here, interfering with my investigation? I thought you didn’t know where her car was.”
Jeff answered for Emory. “I had a hunch, and it led me here.”
“Stop with the damn lies, and tell me what’s going on!”