Bree checked her watch. Nearly one. The heavy snow prevented her from burying Davy’s belongings, and she had nothing else pressing to do today. She had been meaning to get out to the mine, and there was no time like the present. With her snowshoes, the snow cover was no problem. She put Samson in his search vest then gathered her ready-pack. She stuffed Fay’s diary into the backpack and headed out. Though she’d been reading the diary carefully from back to front, Fay’s minuscule writing made for slow reading, and so far she’d found nothing but Fay’s selfish musings about her empty life. Steve wanted it back today.
Bree drove up Houghton Street and saw Naomi walking down the street with Charley. Bree stopped the Jeep and rolled down the window. “Hey, I’m heading out to take a look at that old mine. You want to come?” Charley barked, and Bree grinned. “I think he answered for you. You’re not busy, are you?”
“Not unless you count avoiding my mother’s questions,” Naomi said. She put Charley in the back with Samson and climbed in.
Bree stopped at the bank and grabbed the diary out of her backpack. “I’ll be right back,” she told Naomi. She walked back to Steve’s office and handed it to him. “I’d like to look at it again as soon as possible, Steve.”
He nodded. “I’ll glance through it as quick as I can. I just have to protect myself. I hope you understand.”
She nodded. “I’d better go. Naomi and I are going out to check the mine.”
His head jerked up. “I might join you after I finish here.”
“I can use all the help I can get.” It was about time Steve started taking a more active role. She left him and hurried outside.
“What’s your mom have to say about you seeing Donovan?” Bree asked Naomi when she got back into the Jeep.
“I may have to move out.” Naomi grinned to show she wasn’t serious.
“That bad?”
“Terrible. I never should have told her I was interested in Donovan.” Naomi put her head in her hands and rocked it from side to side in a mock expression of pain then leaned her head back against the seat. “She wants to invite Donovan and the kids over for supper. Now I ask you, Bree, doesn’t she get it that things haven’t gone that far? We’re just friends exploring where it might lead.”
“Has Donovan said that?”
“Well, sort of. He asked me if I’d ever wondered what might have happened if we’d dated in high school.”
“You deserve someone really wonderful, Naomi. I hope Donovan is the one.” And though she didn’t say it, Bree hoped Naomi’s marriage—if it got that far—would turn out better than Bree’s own. But that wasn’t fair. The early days had been happy, and maybe they would have been again. She would never know.
“What are you thinking about? You have a strange look on your face,” Naomi said. “You’ve been different lately. Even Mom remarked on it.”
“Different how?”
“I don’t know exactly. Maybe more at peace with yourself—or maybe it’s just resignation. I can’t tell.”
At peace with herself. That sounded good if she could make it a reality. “I’m trying, Naomi. I think one day soon I’ll be able to go forward and not be stuck in the reruns of my life. The memories will still be there, but they won’t consume me like they used to.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “I packed up Davy’s things last night. I thought I’d make a guest room.”
“Oh, Bree, that’s wonderful!”
Bree blinked and glanced at her friend before turning her attention back to the road. “You approve? I thought you’d be horrified and wonder what kind of mother I am.”
“I’ve worried about you turning Davy’s room into a shrine. You’ll always love Davy. We both know you’ll always mourn him. But it’s time, Bree.”
Bree parked the Jeep by the highway. The road back to the mine was too snow-covered to see the dangerous potholes and tree stumps, so it would be safest to walk in.
“What are we looking for?” Naomi asked as they got out and allowed the dogs to race on ahead. They could wander until it was time to go home.
“I’m not really sure. A lot of details about Fay’s death seem to lead back to this mine. Maybe it’s coincidence, but I want to be sure.”
“You mean you wonder if someone killed her for money?”
“It’s possible.” Bree ticked the suspects off on her glove-covered fingers. “Her uncle wanted her to sell to the New York conglomerate so he could get more money than what Palmer was willing to pay. He might have killed her to stop the sale. Of course, Steve nixed that idea, but Lawrence couldn’t have known that ahead of time.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose. “This is getting too scary for me, Bree. You need to let Mason handle it. New York conglomerates, big insurance policies, huge debts, and a boyfriend just out of jail. It’s all too horrible.”
They reached the mine, and Bree pointed to the ground. “Looks like someone’s been here recently. I wonder if it’s all related to the sale?”
Numerous footprints had tamped down the snow all across the clearing. Bree walked toward the main building. “Let’s check the main shaft.”
“Talk about stumbling around in the dark,” Naomi grumbled. “We have no idea what we’re looking for.”
“Something worth killing for,” Bree said. Darkness yawned through the mine shaft building’s open door, which was attached by only one rusted hinge.
Bree didn’t really want to go in, but she was done with fear. Fear had kept her silent when she should have talked to Rob about where their marriage was headed from the moment he grew distant; fear kept her from speaking her mind and being herself; fear of the future trapped her in the past. In all the ways that really mattered, she’d been a coward, and it shamed her. But no more.
She fumbled in her backpack for glow sticks and handed one to Naomi. Together they broke the sticks, and an eerie green light forced back the blanket of darkness. Bree immediately felt better. Naomi followed as they pushed deeper into the shaft building.
A giant steam hoist rose in front of them like some ravenous prehistoric beast. Bree had heard the hoist could lift eight tons of copper ore. Naomi uttered a tiny scream then gave a shaky laugh. “It looks like it wants to eat someone,” she said in a hushed whisper.
“We could offer it Eric Matthews,” Bree said. When they both laughed, she felt better. This wasn’t so bad. She could do this.
Stepping over paper, discarded crates, and piles of rock, they walked farther into the shaft. They came to a split in the hall. Bree looked down each branch as far as she could see.
“You go left, and I’ll go right,” she told Naomi.
“I think we should stay together,” Naomi said. “What if part of this old mine falls on one of us?”
“It seems sturdy enough. It will take us forever to search if we don’t split up.” The sooner they finished this job, the sooner they could get out of this dank place. The stale air in here made her think of tombs and graveyards, a macabre thought that brought a surge of panic. She swallowed her fear and turned to the right.
“I don’t like this,” Naomi called as she headed down the other hall.
It might not be the smartest thing to go alone without the dogs, but it would take too long to round them up. Besides, the walkway only went down. A damp chill radiated from the yawning hole, and she didn’t want to enter it, but Bree forced herself to go on. She would never find the answer to Fay’s murder if she didn’t find some courage.
Down, down she went, the dim light of the glow stick lighting the way. The darkness seemed a living thing that teased her beyond the reach of her stick’s feeble light. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she grabbed her flashlight and flipped it on. The bright white light pushed back the shadows, and she caught her breath again.
Several kerosene lanterns lined the shelves along the way. Maybe there was fuel in one of them. She looked closer and saw they were all full of kerosene. Evidently the fuel wasn’t worth hauling out of here—lucky for her. Fumbling in her pack, she pulled out a box of matches and lit one of the lanterns. Holding the lantern high, she resumed her descent.
She came to a split. So much for there being no way to get lost. She’d just have to remember which way she chose. Chewing her lip, Bree saw a track running along the ground to the left. She’d follow it. If she didn’t find anything in fifteen minutes, she would go back. She set the stopwatch function on her watch. She walked for what seemed like forever, but when she checked the time, only five minutes had passed. She looked up. A barrier stood in her way, and she stopped. It was a huge door that stood partway open to a room carved out of stone. Maybe it was an office or something.
She walked inside and stumbled over the rock that held the door open. The rock shifted, and the door slammed shut. With a cry, she flew to the door and grabbed at the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Placing the lantern on the floor, she twisted the knob with both hands, but it didn’t turn at all. She began pounding on the door.
Bree shouted until she was hoarse then looked at her watch just as the fifteen-minute alarm went off. Full-blown panic loomed at the edge of her mind, but she fought it. She reminded herself she was a professional. The key was not to panic. Naomi would get the dogs, and Samson would find her.
The darkness pressed in on her, and she grabbed the lantern and held it high. The room seemed to be a makeshift office of some kind. An old desk sat in one corner, its metal drawer rusting from the damp. Several equally rusty filing cabinets stood against the other wall. Several filthy blankets were heaped on the floor in one corner, evidently the haven of some homeless person in the dim past.
The touches of humanity in the room calmed Bree’s rising terror. Sucking in several deep breaths, she found her cell phone and tried to dial. No signal. She put it away slowly. All she could do was be calm and wait. Easier said than done.
Setting the lamp on the desk, she pulled out the office chair and grabbed an old rag to wipe it down. After examining it for bugs and spiders, she eased into it. Though her heart still throbbed with trepidation, she no longer felt as though she might begin to scream uncontrollably. What could she do to keep her mind off her predicament?
The desk beside her held six drawers. The metal shrieked when she opened the first. She poked gingerly at the contents: rusty paper clips, pencils, a chalkboard eraser, an assortment of yellowed labels. The next drawer held papers, and she pulled them into the light. The crabbed handwriting was hard to read, but Bree soon got the hang of it.
Ledger sheets documented measurements of ore and sales to smelting companies. A letter dated May 1965 to a person named Wilson Cutter in Detroit caught her eye. According to the letter, a new vein of ore had been discovered at the Copper Queen. Gold. But the mine closed in July of 1965. Bree frowned. Had it been a false alarm, or had this letter never been sent? Maybe someone had found out about the gold in the mine.
Another paper, folded in half, fluttered to the floor. She grabbed it, but before she could open it, a clank sounded outside the door. Stuffing the paper into her pocket, she sprang forward and began pounding. “I’m in here!” she shouted.
Moments later she heard Samson’s whine. He began to bark, then the deeper tones of a man’s voice reverberated through the door.
“We’re here, Bree; I’ll get you out,” Kade shouted through the door. “The door’s locked, but I have a crowbar. Naomi, over here! I’ve found her.”
Metal screeched against metal as Kade pried the hinges loose. “Stand back,” he called.
Bree stood away from the door, and it crashed inward. Dust flew into her face, and she coughed as she stumbled into Kade’s arms. Samson barked joyously then leaped onto her leg. She patted his head then leaned against Kade’s chest.
He hugged her tightly, and she burrowed into his strong embrace, just as she’d longed to do before. It was just as she’d imagined. With his arms tight around her, she felt safe and protected.
He spoke into her hair. “What were you thinking, prowling around down here all alone?”
She finally pulled away and slanted a grin into his face. “A good investigator goes where the clues are.”
He grinned back. “A good investigator doesn’t get lost.”
“Bree!” Naomi’s shout echoed down the cavernous hall, and the dim glow of her light stick grew brighter. Charley raced ahead of his owner and jumped on Bree in an ecstatic show of relief. Moments later Naomi rushed out of the darkness and grabbed Bree in a tight clutch.
Both women burst into tears.
Kade looked at Samson and sighed. “Don’t try to understand it, boy.”
The women giggled and wiped their tears before trooping out of the dark mine into the clearing. Bree stepped into the open air and stretched her arms to the sky. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see the sun again.” It had started snowing, and the fresh cold air smelled wonderful after the staleness of the mine.
Kade rubbed Samson’s curly coat. “With this dog, I don’t think you’d ever have to worry about being lost. He would always find you.”
Bree knelt and threw her arms around Samson’s neck. “And I never even thanked you, Samson.” He whined eagerly and licked her on the chin. She buried her face in his fur and hugged him again, then stood. Laughing, they struggled through the snow and toward their vehicles. Samson moseyed off into the woods. After a few minutes, he began to bark.
“What is it, boy?” Bree called. She left Kade’s side and hurried to where the dog stood in a stand of white pine. Samson poked his head out of a thicket. He had something in his mouth. Bree bent over and took it from him.
“Find anything?” Naomi called.
Bree turned and held up something brown. “It’s a hat,” she said.
Naomi frowned. “Let me see.” She joined Bree and took the hat. “A floppy brown leather hat,” she murmured.
“What’s so special about that?” Kade asked.
“Remember the O’Reilly kids and their witch? They said she wore a floppy brown leather hat. And Mason said the same thing.”
Kade slapped his head. “I’ve been so caught up with the way Lauri—I forgot until just now! I saw her!”
“Where?” Bree grabbed his arm.
“Out by Rock River on Sunday.”
“Let’s see what Samson can find out.” She held the hat under Samson’s nose. “Samson, search!”
The dog sniffed the hat then turned and ran off into the woods. Naomi had Charley sniff it as well and sent him out. The threesome followed, but it became clear after a few minutes that the dogs didn’t have a scent. Bree and Naomi called them back and headed toward the car with Kade. Bree managed to hide her disappointment. She didn’t want Kade to feel worse than he already did.
“Are we done here?” he asked.
“I guess so. Hey, you never told me what you were doing here.”
“I was answering a call about a deer hit by a car out this way and saw your Jeep,” he said. “I thought I’d see what was going on. When I got to the mine, I heard Naomi shouting your name, and I knew something was wrong. We called the dogs and started looking for you. I was afraid you’d gotten stuck somewhere—or worse.”
She turned to check on the dogs and found Samson at the edge of the forest. He was whining and his tail was tucked between his legs. “What’s wrong, boy?” She walked over to where he sat. Kade followed.
The dog seemed distressed, his brown eyes almost speaking to them in misery. Kade patted his head. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s acting like he does when he gets a death scent,” Bree said. She glanced around. “I don’t see anything though.”
The wind had blown the snow off a pile of rocks nearby, and Kade caught a flash of red-black. “What’s that?” He knelt and brushed more snow away. A reddish stain covered one of the rocks, and spatters of the same substance dotted several others. “It looks like blood.”
“Blood?”
“You tell me. Would Samson give a death alert on an animal’s blood?”
Bree shook her head and stared at him. “What if it’s Fay’s blood?”
“That can’t be right,” Naomi said. “Unless . . .”
“Unless she was killed here and moved to the other site. He got her out of the car by the road, laid her on the ground for a minute, then hauled her to the cliff bottom,” Bree said.
“Let’s get Mason,” Naomi said.
Bree called Mason on her cell phone. “He’s on his way,” she told them. Bree and Naomi let the dogs continue to search while they waited for the sheriff.
Mason and Deputy Montgomery finally showed up and had barely had time to take samples of the bloodstains when they got a call about a hunting accident. Mason promised to call when he had news.
“Let’s go to your place,” Naomi said when the sheriff pulled away. “The snow is really coming down, and we don’t want to get stuck out here.”
Bree drove slowly back to town, with Kade following in his truck. The wind blew the snow in gusts across the road, and she strained to see through the whiteout. When they got to her lighthouse, she made some coffee then paced the kitchen, wishing Mason would call.
“Quit pacing,” Kade ordered. “Let’s think of something to do to keep us occupied.”
All three were silent for a moment.
“We could get that light going in the tower,” Kade offered.
“She’s been working on it,” Naomi said. “She won’t ask for help.”
“What needs to be done? I’m pretty handy with a hammer.” He flexed his muscles and the women laughed.
“A Fresnel lens needs to be installed. It’s bulky and heavy though. Rob sent the original one out for repair. It came back about a week before he died and has been in the garage ever since.”
“What are we waiting for? I’m going to get it.” Naomi headed for the back door.
Bree found the expression on Kade’s face unsettling. A softness eased around his mouth and eyes that made her mouth go dry. “Do I have dirt on my nose?” she asked him.
“Sorry. I was staring, wasn’t I?” He stood. “Let’s get that light installed.”
Bree took Kade to the garage and pointed out the Fresnel lens tucked in the corner under the wooden worktable. He dragged it out.
“Don’t you need permission to light these towers over the harbor?” he asked as the three of them maneuvered it into the house.
“Rob applied for a permit as soon as the lens arrived,” Bree explained. “It’s been sitting on my desk for months.”
Kade nodded. They paused in the kitchen for a rest.
“I hope you’re planning to feed us after this,” he said, wiping his forehead. He eyed the stairs warily.
“Um, you don’t know what you’re asking,” Naomi said, laughing. “Unless you like frozen pizza or popcorn.”
“I’ve eaten my share of frozen pizza,” Kade said.
Bree’s cheeks grew hot. “I can cook more than frozen pizza.” She grinned weakly. “But I think that might be all that’s in the freezer.” She really had to do something about eating better.
“I knew it,” Naomi said, gloating.
“Now let’s hook this baby up.” Kade patted the lens.
They had to stop and rest several times, but they finally managed to get the lens to the light tower. The women left Kade to do his job and went to the living room.
Naomi dug her book out of her backpack. “I think I’ll read awhile and unwind. I’m at a really exciting part.”
Naomi’s comment reminded Bree of the paper she’d found at the mine office. She stuck her hand into her pocket and pulled it out. Unfolding it, she read the top: “‘The Hound of Heaven,’ by Francis Thompson.” Mathilda had said something about a hound of heaven the day they’d been at the animal shelter. Curious, Bree began to read.
The language was hard to follow at first, but then the literature studies she’d done in college kicked in and she read on more smoothly. As the poem talked about the “Hound of Heaven” stripping away all to leave nothing but God, something tugged at Bree’s heart. Was that what he’d been doing to her?
“Look at this, Naomi,” she said, holding out the yellowed paper.
“What is it?” Naomi took the paper. “Where did you get this?”
“At the mine.”
Naomi frowned. “How strange. Of course it is a poem from the eighteen hundreds. Maybe someone else felt God’s pursuit.”
“You sound like you believe he does that—pursue. Did you understand the poem?” Bree looked down at the words again.
“It’s an allegory about how God pursues us to bring us to himself. He is who you need, Bree. Can’t you see how he’s been chasing you, caring for you? Samson and Charley are driven to find lost hunters and kids; God is driven to pursue you. He saved you from the fall from the tower. Kade just happened to be out by the mine today, and I never could have gotten that door open without him.”
“A coincidence,” Bree said, turning away, though a part of her longed to know it as something else.
Naomi gently persisted. “Anu says coincidence is a nonbeliever’s way of explaining God’s hand at work. Can’t you see God’s providential hand in your life?”
God’s hand in your life. The words penetrated Bree’s heart, and she saw the truth. I am He Whom thou seekest, the poem said. It was God she needed. A heavenly Father who truly loved her and cared for her soul.
She put her hands to her cheeks. “You’re right, Naomi. I’m tired of running. I want what you have, what Anu has.”
Naomi prayed with her, and when Bree raised her head, the colors of the world had shifted as though she’d stepped out of a black-and-white TV into a cinematic event. There were no clanging bells, no singing birds, but she felt the whisper of another presence. Her Hound of Heaven had found her, and she was his. “Thank you, God,” she whispered. “Thank you.”