Carol O'Connell - Bone by Bone

"Hannah, where is Oren?"

"Behind you."

There was no time for Dave Hardy to turn his head. A shove to his back sent him sprawling, arms waving, falling.

He landed on his feet, crouched knee-deep in water, shoes sloshing and sliding. The close sides of the pit were slimed with mud. Dave reached up to grab a wet tree root, and it slicked through his fingers. Footing lost, he slumped down a muddy wall, legs folding until his kneecaps were higher than his chin and poking out of the brown water. His clothes were soaked, his face and hair splattered. Looking upward, all he could see was a crude square of blue sky, and he yelled, "I could've broken my damn legs!"

Oh, God, the water was cold. His teeth clicked, his body shook.

Rising to his feet was slippery work in this dank, narrow space, and the wet blue jeans weighed him down. Twice, his shoes shot out from under him before he managed to stand. Flattened back against a wall, he craned his neck. All he could see was the high mound of earth piled near the hole. He stretched out both hands but could not reach the top. He jumped for the edge, and the mud sucked off his shoes and socks. But he had glimpsed the back of Oren Hobbs as the man steeped a shovel into the dirt pile.

Hannah's head leaned into the bright blue square above, and her voice was fearful. "You should've run. I warned you." She drew back as a spade of earth rained down on him.

"Hey!" Dave brushed loose dirt from his clothes. The rest turned to mud in his wet hair. He raised his face to yell again, and another load from the shovel filled his mouth with soil. He spat it out and wiped his eyes. "Knock it off!" Hands raised to ward off the next spray, he had his first look at Oren's face-so cold. What lifeless eyes-eyes of a machine that could lift a shovel and-

Ploff.

The deputy lost his barefoot traction. Sliding down the slick wall and landing hard on his backside, he clenched his teeth on grit. Shaking-so cold-he hugged his knees and lowered his head when the shovel appeared in the sky-blue opening. Dirt crumbled down from his hair to melt in the water when he lifted his face to the light and yelled, "Hannah! Call him off!"

Or turn him off. Switch off that thing with the shovel.

"I tried." She reappeared, head and shoulders, to lean over the hole. "No use." Her fingers curled over the edge. "Oren knows that Josh and the tourist died close to Evelyn's cabin."

"What? The grave was in the clearing. Nowhere near that cabin." Dave saw the shovel too late to duck his head. He gagged on the dirt, and his breakfast beer came stealing up his throat for a second tasting. Above him, the mute shoveler worked with an easy rhythm. Steep and lift, and ploff went the dirt.

"Josh and that woman died on the old hikers' trail."

Before he could ask how Hannah knew this, she read his mind and said, "Oren told me. He's been watching videotapes of the witchboard people- all day, all night-no sleep."

Dave looked up at her, his eyes wide in a mask of mud. "The witchboard people? Are you crazy?" More dirt hit his face to blind him and fill his mouth. He vomited up his last liquid meal, and the hole reeked of beer and bile. When his eyes were wiped clear, Hannah was gone. "No!" he called out to her. "Don't leave me!"

Don't leave me here with Oren, crazy Oren.

Scrambling to raise himself, Dave braced his ice-cold hands on the slippery walls. He could see her standing beside the man with the vacant eyes, lunatic Oren, who worked like a robot to fill his hole. Steep and lift and-

Hannah squinted, as if trying to see the mechanical man more clearly and from a great distance. "I don't think Oren can hear me anymore." Ploff

She hunkered down at the edge of the pit. "The witchboard people knew everything-bits and pieces here and there. Oren put it all together."

"Help me!" A downdraft swept his wet body with cool morning air. His teeth clicked. His hands trembled. "Hannah, I know you don't believe in that séance crap."

"Oren does." She looked down at him with such pity. "He knows you went up to the cabin that day. You waited awhile-just to make sure Evelyn was alone. It was raining when you saw a woman leave by the back door-a woman in a yellow slicker. You thought you were following Evelyn." She backed away and disappeared as more dirt came down. "Hannah!" he screamed.

"Josh was following you." Her voice was behind him now. He whirled around, bare feet slipping in the muddy water. His fingers raked grooves in the wall of dirt as he was falling- splash! -into freezing water. He looked up to see Hannah's face framed in the square of blue sky.

"Josh saw you kill that poor woman. But Oren says the boy didn't take a picture of the murder. Is he right, Dave?"

The sound of shoveling stopped.

Hannah crouched low to peer at him, as if her answer might be written on his face. And then she nodded in a knowing way. "You didn't know Josh was behind you-not yet. The boy could've backed off and saved himself and run. My Josh could run so fast. You never would've caught him."

Dave twisted his head to look behind him. Above the edge of the pit, he could see the handle of the shovel as it was lodged in the mound of dirt, and there it stayed. Oren, the robot, was also listening to Hannah.

"It took time for Josh to set up the perfect shot," she said. "The boy was so quiet while he looked down at his camera to line up the little numbers on the lens. And then he looked up to focus, and he waited… You rolled the body over… and saw you'd killed the wrong woman. The look on your face, a rock in your hand, the dead woman's eyes staring back at you. Josh just couldn't help himself. It was his nature to catch that moment. No power on earth could've stopped him… You heard the camera click."

Ploff. Steep and lift. Ploff

Dave's voice was pleading, breaking. "Hannah, call for help." Where was she?

Oh, Christ, don't leave me.

She came back to him and leaned over the edge. "I told you-Oren's seen the witchboard tapes. The year you came back to Coventry -that's when you went to your first séance in the woods. Everybody in town went to at least one. At the time, I didn't think anything of it."

"The sheriff sent me out there to check up on the psychic."

"That's what Evelyn thought-just Cable's silly idea of an undercover cop. But Oren says you didn't act like one. You never joined the players. You stood at the back of the room, hiding in the dark, listening. Were you scared that a message from a dead child would give you away?" Hannah smiled, but there was no mistaking her expression for happiness. "Scared now?"

Ploff.

"Hannah!"

"I tried to help you," said her disembodied voice. And then her face appeared again, but her eyes were raised to stare at the madman with the shovel. "You should've run. Oren knows that Josh died slow." Hannah lowered her gaze. "You dragged out that child's pain all day long." She drew back from the edge.

"Hannah, don't leave me!" He struggled to gain his feet. Half bent, he held up his arms to ward off the next spadeful of dirt. If he could not stand, he would die in this stinking hole. Every shovelful of earth thickened the water, and he could not climb upon mud to save himself; he could only sink. How long would he be able to lift his feet before they were encased in mud? He screamed, "Hannah!"

The walls seemed closer now, suffocating, and he looked up with the mad idea that the square of blue light was growing smaller-farther away-closing up. Mud from his hair dripped into his eyes. The light went out.

The yellow dog looked over the edge, ears flattened down and snarling.