If I Should Die

EIGHT

Even though she didn’t believe he’d take her up on her suggestion, Lucy still tried to talk Sean out of going with her to the mine Thursday morning so he could rest. He drove her to the site in the rental SUV he’d picked up at the airport, parking behind three official vehicles.

“I suppose you won’t wait in the car,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Give it up, Luce.”

She grumbled, but opened the passenger door. Why was she surprised? None of her four brothers would have been waylaid by a two-story fall or a dozen stitches.

She walked-Sean limped-to where a sheriff’s deputy and rescue worker stood at the edge of the mine shaft watching their approach. Apprehension rose in her chest as they neared the open pit.

“Hello,” Sean called out, raising his hand in a friendly wave.

“Lost?” the deputy asked.

“Not at all,” Sean said. “I was the lucky guy to fall down there yesterday.”

The cop didn’t smile. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

Lucy’s stomach flipped. Was her inability to rid her mind of Sean’s fall a sign of post-traumatic stress? She couldn’t control her body’s reactions, and that was unlike her.

“That’s what I said, I’m a lucky guy.” All humor was gone from his tone. “Sean Rogan. Lucy Kincaid. Lucy found the body.”

He didn’t say anything about their backgrounds. If people knew he was a P.I. and she was an FBI recruit, it would be harder to quietly gather information.

“Deputy Weddle. This is Al Getty, Fire and Rescue. You’re staying at the Hendrickson place?”

Sean nodded. “Is the coroner down there?”

“Just lowered their equipment.”

“I’d like to join them,” Lucy said. “I found the body and can show them where she is.”

At first Weddle looked as though he would argue. Then he said into his radio, “Ham, you there? Over.”

“What do you need? Over.”

“The little lady who found the body wants to join you. Over.”

There was a long pause. Weddle didn’t take his eyes off her. Was he laughing internally, or suspicious?

“Shaffer says send her down. Over.”

Weddle said to Lucy, “You heard him.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Luce?” Sean quietly asked.

“She’s been on my mind-I want to make sure I saw what I did.”

“Excuse me?” Weddle said. “You want to make sure you saw what?”

“The way she was posed.”

“Posed,” he said flatly. When she’d first approached, Weddle’s casual posture had led her not to consider him much of a cop, but now his eyes assessed her with a suspicious glint.

“She was flat on her back, arms crossed over her chest. It didn’t seem …,” she searched for the words, “… a natural way to die.” She zipped up her jacket, remembering how cold it had been in the mine yesterday.

“Boss?” Getty said.

“Strap her to the chair.”

Getty buckled Lucy into a rescue seat with a full five-point harness secured around her thighs and over her shoulders.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, holding Sean’s blue eyes as she was lowered down.

I love you, he mouthed.

“She’s going to be okay down there?” Weddle asked Sean.

“Yes,” Lucy heard as Sean and the cop disappeared from her view.

Down below, Ken Hammond, the Fire and Rescue supervisor, introduced himself and the deputy coroner, Frank Shaffer, as he unhooked her.

The smell of decomposition Lucy had identified yesterday seemed to have dissipated, but she figured it was because of the severe overnight temperature drop. She made a mental note to check the high and low temps over the last few weeks, though she didn’t know why she’d need to do it-the coroner would handle the death investigation. Shaffer motioned for her to lead the way.

“I marked the walls with a stick,” she said, shining her light on the tunnel walls. Her faint scratches were still there.

Hammond said, “Smart move. These mines have some odd tunnels. I’ve been down here before with the Army Corp of Engineers to assess damages after cave-ins. Even the maps they have aren’t completely accurate. I don’t know if anyone knows these caverns anymore.”

“What was mined?” she asked as she walked carefully down the tunnel to the room.

“Iron primarily, but they found a vein of titanium in the thirties, which helped keep the mine in business during World War II and the Korean and Vietnam wars. It slowed down after the Second World War, but it wasn’t until the midseventies that they completely shut down.

“My dad and granddad worked down here,” Hammond continued. “I think everyone in town is attached to this mine one way or another.”

Lucy stepped out of the tunnel into the larger cavern, bracing herself.

“I’ve never been on this side of the mine,” Hammond said. “This was a secondary vein, built in the midfifties. They needed the ventilation shafts because the air quality-”

“Where’s the girl?” Shaffer interrupted.

“She’s in a large cutout in the wall.” Lucy turned and shined her light. “Right here.”

She stared.

The slab was empty.

Her face froze in a blank expression as she shined her light slowly around the area. The broken chair. The old tools. The two tunnels. This was where she had been yesterday. There was no mistake.

She looked back at where the decaying body should be. It was still missing.

“Maybe you went down one of these other tunnels,” Hammond said.

Lucy shook her head. “She was right here.” Her voice cracked on the last word and she steeled herself. She was a professional; there was an explanation. She just had to figure it out.

She saw Hammond and Shaffer exchange glances they might have thought were discreet, but they believed she was either an idiot or an attention-seeker.

“We’re going to check out the tunnels,” Hammond said. “Wait here.”

Lucy stared at the empty hole.

She hadn’t imagined the dead body. She hadn’t made up the maggots in the woman’s mouth, or how she lay. She didn’t have nightmares last night over a figment of her imagination, dammit!

Less than twenty-four hours ago there was a dead woman right there.

Someone had moved the body.

Who? Why?

She shined her light on the floor. A dead body, even a diminutive woman like the blonde, would be heavy and awkward. One person couldn’t easily carry her, not without disturbing the dirt, unless he had help.

The ground yielded little information, especially with her lone flashlight. She needed an evidence kit and bright lights to make out any faint marks on the hard surface. Did she see footprints? Were they hers? Too large. Shaffer’s or Hammond’s? She couldn’t tell just by looking.

Whoever moved the body had help. Or …

She spun around and turned her flashlight to the tunnel with the tracks. The mining cart that had been there yesterday was gone.