“I agree.” Truman pointed at an area of ash and charred logs near one wall. “Someone’s stayed here long enough to build a fire.” He kicked at a few burned logs. “Remnants of tin cans and beer caps.” He stepped back out of the cave and spotted a lazy pile of dried branches. “I guess that’s their woodpile.” If he stared hard enough he could make out a flattened spot on the cave floor where someone might have spread a sleeping bag.
Truman stepped deeper into the cave. The ceiling abruptly dropped and he squatted, peering into the darkness. He pulled out a small flashlight and shone it into the darkness. He couldn’t see the end of the cave. “It’s deep. Crazy low, though. I’d have to crawl to see how deep it goes. I don’t think this part was blasted. I think the blasting revealed this deeper crevice.”
Mercy bent over and peered over his shoulder. The odor of baked lemon bars distracted him. “Holy shit. It is deep. Are you claustrophobic at all?”
He didn’t like the eagerness in her tone. “A bit.”
“Then I’ll take a look. Get out of the way.”
Truman awkwardly backed out of the opening until he could stand without whacking his head. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. The curiosity is killing me.” Her eyes shone.
He handed her his flashlight as the acid in his stomach protested. “Be careful. Don’t get stuck.”
She grinned and dropped to her hands and knees to crawl in the hole. “I trust you’ll haul me out if I’m stuck.”
“Depends how deep you’ve gone.”
She crawled a few feet and dropped to her stomach, scooting forward. Her boots dragged behind her.
Jesus Christ. Watching her belly-crawl into the narrow opening made him light headed. How far will she go?
“It’s wider back here.” Her voice didn’t echo through the tunnel; it sounded muffled by the rocks and dirt.
He knelt and looked in the hole. A faint glow from the flashlight in her hand outlined her head and shoulders. Her boots were swallowed up in the dark.
“Be careful,” he repeated. Fuck. What if we’re suddenly hit by the once-in-a-lifetime earthquake they’ve been predicting for the last fifty years?
“Maybe you should come out now.” His voice cracked.
She didn’t answer.
“Mercy?” He estimated she was a good fifteen feet down the tunnel. What if there’s not enough oxygen? Can I crawl in and pull her out?
He didn’t know.
“Mercy,” he said firmly. “That’s far enough.”
“Coming.”
Relief rocked through him.
It took a lifetime for her to back out of the tunnel. Once her boots were within his reach, he grabbed one firmly. He didn’t pull, but he kept a solid hand on the leather because it calmed his gut. Her calves were covered in fine rock and dust. She awkwardly backed out the rest of the way, her dark ponytail covered with the same debris.
Truman backed up to where he could stand, his heart racing. I’m not letting her do that again.
She twisted around to a sitting position, and triumphantly slid a rifle out of the tunnel. Her eyes gleamed in her dirty face. “There’s got to be fifty weapons in there. All stashed in big garbage bags.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Mercy’s feet had started to ache an hour ago.
Truman, Eddie, several evidence technicians, and SSRA Jeff Garrison and Intelligence Analyst Darby Cowan from the Bend FBI office had converged on the hill behind Owlie Lake, and they’d all been standing around for too many hours. Amazingly, Mercy had been able to call the Bend office from the beautiful, remote location. Jeff Garrison’s excitement over the weapons cache had made her day. She wished she could have been present to see him tell Darby. The FBI analyst’s eyes had glowed as she watched the weapons being removed from the narrow tunnel in the mountain.
More data to mine.
Mercy knew Darby had been up to her neck in weapons research as she tried to make progress on the missing weapons from the prepper murders. According to a quick conversation Mercy had with Jeff, Darby had been supremely frustrated. “She’s been consulting with the ATF, and they’re keeping a close eye on these cases, but they haven’t uncovered any new leads either.” Jeff gave Mercy an admiring smile. “This is the biggest lead yet.”
“Truman’s the one who suggested we investigate the area,” Mercy pointed out.
“But he didn’t know where to look, right?”
“You’re lucky I remembered an old make-out spot.”
Jeff’s brows rose. “Is that what it was? You came here often?”
She snorted. “More like I followed my brothers. They were the ones who got in trouble.”
“I can’t believe you crawled in there.”
Mercy would have done it again. Small spaces didn’t bother her, and she didn’t understand why some people reacted so strongly to them. If you can get in, you can get out, right?