Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

It had been only ten minutes since Dean and the others had descended the mine, but each minute felt like an hour, and Sonia caught herself beginning to pace a half dozen times.

“You mean your feet crunching the dry pine needles?”

She froze. Listened. Nothing.

Sheffield stood right next to her among the trees near the entrance of the mine. “What did you hear?” he whispered in her ear.

“A car door shut.”

“It was from the mine. The elevator.”

Maybe, but Sonia was poised. Every hair on her skin rose, and she sensed someone else in the woods.

“Shh.” She closed her eyes and listened.

First, her own breathing. She internalized the sound, put it aside. Then Clinch’s slow, steady, calm breaths. Dr. Sheffield’s faster intakes, sounding a bit winded. Or scared.

Then the far distant sound of helicopter blades slowing down.

A hoot of an owl. An answer in return.

The scurrying of a rodent in the leaves.

She internalized all the sounds and focused her mind and senses on one: listening.

“Two people are approaching from the east,” she whispered.

Clinch put his ear to the ground. “It’s from the west. Callahan and the others.”

She shook her head, removed her gun from its holster, and flicked off the safety. She put her fingers to her lips. “They’re coming from the east, and it’s not Callahan. Trust me.”

Clinch was skeptical, but unholstered his gun as well.

“Slow down, Cammarata.”

“It’s Charlie.”

Dean had no intention of being friends with Cammarata. They continued slowly another twenty or so feet down the mine in complete silence. The staircase had been cut out of the earth, with wood planks laid loosely, so old they cracked and splintered under their weight. As they descended, the air cooled and the hard-packed earthen walls seemed damp to the touch. The sound of distant running water echoed through the shaft, which was disconcerting considering they were at least fifty feet below the surface.

“You’re taking care of her, right?” Cammarata asked.

He wasn’t going to talk about Sonia with this man.

“I was never good enough for her,” Cammarata continued.

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just making small talk.”

“Bullshit.” Dean refused to be sucked into whatever game he was playing.

“I’ve always loved her, you know.”

Dean’s jaw clenched. “You’re treading on thin ice.”

“I want her to be happy.” The light bobbing from atop their hard hats cast shadows all around, showing darker tunnels leading off this main staircase. They turned again, down, and one tunnel to the left was marked with an orange neon X. Inside, Dean saw a large mound of earth sealing part of the opening.

Dean remembered a mission to rescue a trapped caravan in Kuwait. They’d occupied an abandoned bunker while fending off the enemy. When he and his unit went in, all they found were the dead.

“Hooper?”

“Shut up, Charlie.” He was getting on Dean’s last nerve. If he thought “I’m sorry” would fix everything, he was an idiot.

“Tell her I was wrong.”

“She knows that.”

“She doesn’t know I know it.”

“Sonia’s moved on. Leave her alone.”

“I want her forgiveness.” Charlie’s words were barely audible.

Dean paused in his step, wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“She asked me to drop the charges against you. Said your word meant something. She also insisted that even though you fuck up often, your instincts are good and we needed your help. But how can you expect her to forgive what you did to her?”

They descended ten more steps. Slowly, methodically, testing each landing.

Dean said, “I think you’re in this because you care about the victims. I think you’ll do anything to save the helpless. Including sacrificing your partner, your friends, the people who trust you. You justify it because they’re trained, they know what to do or who to call. So you feel comfortable leaving them to fend for themselves because if they fail, it’s not your fault. Except you lied to Sonia.”

“I never lied to her.”

“What the fuck do you call it, Cammarata? She didn’t agree to be sold to a pervert. She didn’t agree to be on her own in that room. She thought you were there.”

“I never told her that.”

It was all Dean could do not to push him down the rest of the stairs.

“Lies by omission are still lies. She had every reason to believe you were her backup.”

Silence.

“I know.”

Dean barely heard him.

Cammarata continued. “I haven’t slept through the night since I found out Sonia nearly died.”

“You lied to your superiors.”

“Only after I knew she was okay.”

“You wanted her to look like an idiot, a failure, and you to look like a hero. Screw that. You’re a prick, you’ll always be a prick. I don’t like you. I don’t want to get to know you or listen to your apologies or excuses. Sonia is who she is in spite of your influence. When this is over, never contact her again. If you do, I’ll arrest you.”

“For what?” he chortled.

“I’m sure you’ve committed plenty of crimes that have no statute of limitations.”

Dean paused. Scrape . “Did you hear that?”

“Rats?”

“Listen.”

Scrape, scrape .

A female voice. Dean didn’t understand the faint plea. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. They’d found the girls.

Charlie said, “It’s Chinese. Xiang. I think she said, ‘Ming is dying. Help Ming.’”

“Let’s go.”

Sonia saw the men emerge from the east, at first two shadows in the filtered moonlight.

They grew distinct. One tall and dark. The other shorter, five ten, lighter hair. Pale.

Sergio Martin. Pierre Devereaux. Noel Marchand. She wondered if any were his real name.

She swallowed thickly, put her finger up for Sheffield and Clinch to remain quiet. She motioned for Clinch to silently alert Callahan and his team to hurry. She sank down behind a tree and watched.

The two killers paused on the edge of the woods, the trees obscuring them. Were they listening? Watching?

Sonia never thought she’d see her father again. She’d never wanted to. She hated everything about him, about her childhood and the lies. But he’d still raised her. She’d followed him from village to village. Why did he play the role of a missionary? Of someone who helps others? Was that all a lie, too? A front?

A gasp caught in her throat as she realized they’d never returned to a village. Why? Because he’d committed atrocities? How many girls had he sold without her knowing?

The men in the shadows moved through the trees. Toward the mine.

Dean was in there. She had to warn him. But how? How without being heard?

Dean was a Marine. Though the military no longer used Morse code, they’d used it when Dean was enlisted.

She tapped her walkie-talkie.

Danger. Two men approaching. Danger. Two men approaching .

She heard nothing in response. No Morse code, no voices, nothing.

“They’ll be ambushed,” she whispered to Clinch, itching to go into the mine and warn them.

Clinch put his hand on her shoulder. “Stay,” he whispered.

The men stepped out of the trees and scurried into the mine. They had guns in hand.

Dean .

Sonia rose to her feet, rock in hand. She threw it as hard as she could toward the mine. It hit the wall with a thump . Fell to the ground. So did Sonia. Waiting. Waiting.

One of the men emerged.

Her father.

He looked in her direction. God, did he see her?

Then he turned back toward the mine. She heard his voice, “It’s nothing. Animals.”