With the bridge out and the rushing water so deep, Bet wondered how Rob had crossed the creek. She followed him downstream twenty yards and discovered a fallen tree spanning the banks. The trunk looked sturdy, but with no rail and high above the water, the natural bridge presented a challenge. After watching Rob walk along the narrow crossing, Bet’s confidence rose. Trusting years of hiking, rock climbing, and going off-trail to find the best fishing spots, she quickly followed. Not long after they left the creek behind, the silhouette of Rob Collier’s horse appeared, a darker patch against the trees.
Rob walked over to Figure, who wore a red halter and stood quietly munching grass. First Rob slid a bit into Figure’s mouth that attached to metal rings on the halter; then he clipped on a set of reins.
“Are you sure he can carry both of us?” Bet asked, eyeing the animal. “He’s big and all, but the two of us combined are pretty heavy.”
Rob swung up into the saddle as he explained, “It’s not something I would ordinarily do. It’s not good for the horse, but that boy could be in trouble. It’s a fair amount of weight, but Figure can handle it.” He walked Figure over to a large rock, where he directed Bet to stand so she could swing up behind him.
Once Bet settled in behind the saddle, Rob clicked softly to his horse, and they began to stride away from the creek. It took Bet a moment to adjust to the movement, but she found the horse’s walk smoother than she’d expected. Beginning to relax, Bet leaned out to the side to point her flashlight on the ground in front of them, picking up a few footprints like the ones near the Ranger.
“Best not tilt out to the side like that,” Rob said. “You’ll make it harder for Figure if you keep him off-balance. His footing will be better if his eyes stay acclimated to the dark.”
Bet clicked off the flashlight and they continued on in silence, the tall horse’s hoofbeats and the creak of leather providing a cadence to their journey. She leaned against Rob’s broad back. He wore a windbreaker over his T-shirt, but it wasn’t enough to keep the heat of his body from seeping through.
“Why Figure?” Bet asked.
“The very first Morgan horse on record had that name.”
“Is that what he is? A Morgan?”
“Mostly.”
“What’s the rest?”
“Moose. That’s why he’s so big.”
Bet laughed.
They fell silent again. The only sound was the wind in the tops of the trees whispering above their heads.
“I didn’t know a horse could walk this fast,” Bet said a few moments later.
“Most horses walk three or four miles an hour. A gaited horse can do closer to ten. We’re not doing quite that fast with the poor light, but I’d allow we’ll cover a couple miles in twenty minutes.”
Bet adjusted her hands around Rob’s waist.
“I don’t have a holster on.”
“I wasn’t—”
“It’s okay. No offense taken. I would have patted me down too, if I were you.”
Bet felt herself blush, glad Rob couldn’t see her face. She had taken the opportunity of their physical proximity to feel for any kind of weapon Rob might have at his hip or the small of his back.
It didn’t take long to reach their destination. Rob dismounted, then reached up to help Bet slide down, her heavy duty belt fighting her descent. Figure was tall—Rob said over sixteen hands—and getting down from where she sat required a little more skill than just slipping from a saddle.
“This way,” he said, as he walked toward a sheer granite wall, a pile of loose scree at its base.
Bet pulled her own flashlight out, and the two scrambled up the hillside into a thicket of scrub trees. They pushed their way through the dense tree limbs, and Bet’s eyes could just make out an inky black spot on the side of the mountain. A slight cold draft pushed against her from the hole.
A metal bat gate built like an old-time jail cell door, which would have secured the mouth of the tunnel, had been sawn through, bypassing the security.
“I assume you found it this way?” she asked Rob.
“I did. Take a look at that.” Rob pointed not far inside the entrance. Bet illuminated something silver and cylindrical. A flashlight.
“We don’t know how long that’s been there. It might have nothing to do with the current situation,” Bet said.
“Get a little closer. What do those smudges look like to you?”
Bet crouched down. What she’d first thought to be dirt on the flashlight had a redder tinge.
Blood.
Bet looked farther down into the mouth of the cave. The opening went forward several feet before it turned hard to the left.
“Did you go back in there?” Bet asked.
“I went back as far as that turn.” Rob flashed his light across a few footprints in the entrance to the cave. “Being very careful not to step on those.”
Bet inspected the footprints. Two sets resembled the ones Bet had found at the Ranger. Bet pulled her camera out of her backpack and compared them to the photos. The prints were identical. Another set, most likely made from an adult male, judging by the size, appeared to have come before the first two, then returned later going out of the cave. Bet could tell by the direction they pointed and how they overlapped. Bet also saw Rob’s carefully placed footprints entering the cave off to the side.
The prints showed only in the soft soil at the mouth of the cave. Outside, the loose rocks showed indentations where people or animals had gone up and down the side of the hill, but individual tracks were impossible to see. Bet took a few photos of the prints in the mouth of the cave.
“What could you see from the bend?” she asked after she finished.
“The trail goes another twenty feet, then turns again. I didn’t go any farther.”
“You didn’t pick this up or touch it in any way?” Bet gestured toward the flashlight.
“No, ma’am.”
Bet photographed the flashlight, pulled on gloves, and retrieved an evidence bag, evidence tape, and a permanent marker. She put the flashlight in the evidence bag and labeled it with the date and location. She took photos of the damaged gate. The thought of going down into the cave made her uneasy, but if Seeley was in some kind of trouble, she needed to get to him soon. He could have been down there for days.
“This would be a whole lot easier if the blood on that flashlight didn’t look so fresh,” Bet said, putting the latex gloves back in her fanny pack to throw away later. Though dry, the blood on the flashlight appeared gummy, not yet fully assuming the flaky, rusty appearance blood took on when it had been exposed to air for an extended period of time.
“I’m guessing you’re wondering the same thing I am,” Rob said.
“Did someone drop this flashlight going in or coming out?”
“And were they being chased? Or doing some chasing?”
Bet nodded and pulled out her cell phone. No reception. Rob stood silent next to her.
“How did you know this cave was here?” Bet asked. “You can’t see it from the trail.”
“I learned about it when I was a kid.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Tell you what? There’s an old cave on my property? Why would I tell you that just because you’re looking for someone? You said the girl died in an accident. I didn’t know we were talking about something more serious.”
“You must have thought this was a potential hazard.”
“No one knows about this cave; you’ve lived here your whole life and you didn’t know about it. Besides, it’s usually locked.”
“If it was so unlikely anyone would be out here, what sent you here to look?”
“Something from last night started me thinking.”
“What?”
“You are your father’s daughter.”
“I know that, but what started you thinking?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Bet waited as Rob fought an internal battle over what to tell her.
“You’re going to think I’m nuts,” he said.
“Try me.”
Rob pulled a faded sepia photograph out of his pocket. Despite its age, the picture showed a young man very clearly. He leaned against an ore cart, pickax next to him. He sported a huge grin, despite the smudges of coal on his cheek.
“Where did you get this?” Bet asked.
“The photo you showed me looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then I said, ‘You are your father’s daughter.’ That turned my attention to family resemblances. I used to look at these old photo albums my grandfather had. That’s where I’d seen this face.”
“So, that’s the original Seeley Lander.”
“How’d you know that?” Rob asked.
“The boy I’m looking for is his great-grandson. Same name. Same face.”
“I’ll be damned.”
“You found this old photo and, what, decided to come out here to look for ghosts?”
“The only people who could know about this old cave were my family and someone who worked in the mine.”
“And everyone who worked in the mine died in the mine—”
“Except Seeley, who might have told stories to his kids.”
Bet thought about that for a moment. “So this really is a back door.”
“It is,” Rob said. “And now the only way in.”
“But,” Bet said, thinking about her theory of an underground river into the lake, “it might not be the only way out.”