Kay Hooper - Hunting Fear

And making great progress here before you were taken, weren't they?

Lindsay grimaced at her own sardonic thought but also welcomed it. Because it kept her angry.

What were they doing out there all this time, all these hours? Sitting on their goddamned hands? They couldn't find the signs that somebody had built himself a fucking fish tank big enough to hold people? How could he get the stuff he needed without somebody realizing?

Huh?

How was that even possible? It wasn't like everybody needed huge sheets of shatterproof glass and bands of tempered steel for the little sunroom they were building out back, for Christ's sake!

Golden was a small town, people talked, they talked about everything, especially the business of their neighbors, and strangers were always noticed, so how had this son of a bitch managed this shit?

And where was Wyatt, goddammit? He was supposed to be here. He was supposed to find her, because he was a good cop and that's what good cops did.

Wyatt, goddamn you, why haven't you found me? You should be able to find me…

The anger lasted until the water reached her waist. She looked at her watch, some clear, calm part of her mind calculating, and realized that the tank would be full before five o'clock. At least half an hour before.

She'd be dead before the ransom was paid.

Dead before anyone could find her.

The bastard was cheating.

He had never intended to give Luke a chance to win this round.

When Lucas sucked in a sudden, painful breath, Champion nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Wha-Is he okay?"

"That's not the question," Jaylene said, her eyes fixed on her partner. "Is Lindsay okay?"

"No," Lucas murmured. His eyes were still closed, his head bowed. All the color had drained from his face, and the tension in his lean body was obvious.

"What's happening, Luke? What's happening to Lindsay?"

"Afraid. She's afraid. She's… terrified. She doesn't want to die."

"Where is she?"

"Water… getting deeper…"

"Show me." Jaylene's voice was quiet but also commanding. "Which way, Luke? Where is Lindsay?"

He was utterly still for a moment, then startled Champion again by turning suddenly toward the west. "This way. She's… this way."

Before Jaylene could look at the map or ask, Champion said, "The mine shaft. That's west of here. The way he's pointing. Should we-"

"Yes, we should. Now."

By the time Champion gathered up the map, Jaylene had guided Lucas into the passenger seat and climbed in back. The deputy got behind the wheel as before, admitting silently that he was a little creeped out by this.

"She doesn't have much time," Lucas murmured. "She's afraid. She's so afraid."

Champion glanced at the federal agent and swore under his breath, more than a little creeped out now. Lucas gazed straight ahead, his face still ghostly pale and now beaded with sweat, and his eyes were peculiarly… fixed. As though he were looking at something far, far away.

Champion lost no time in heading west toward the old gold mine.

"How does he know?" he demanded.

Jaylene replied, "She's afraid and he feels it. Luke? How sure are you?"

"She's this way. This direction. It's cold. It's cold and wet… ind she's alone."

"Glen, are either of the other search teams closer than we are to the mine?"

"I don't think so. And radio reception up here is spotty as hell. But we can try."

"I'll use the radio. You drive." She half climbed far enough forward between the front bucket seats to reach the radio and began trying to contact the other teams.

"Hurry," Lucas said.

"You're that sure? You have to be sure, Luke. If I can reach someone and pull one or both of the other teams away from their planned areas-"

"She's there. She's alone. The bastard left her alone." His voice was strange, thin. Haunted.

Champion swallowed a sudden sour taste in his mouth, for the first time feeling real dread.

Jaylene kept trying to raise the other teams, but by the time Champion judged them to be nearly halfway to the mine she had pretty much given up hope. No radio contact at all, and with absolutely no signal their cell phones were worse than useless. "It's us," she told Champion. "If Lindsay's there, we're the only hope she's got."

"You're sure she's up there?"

"Luke is sure. And when he's like this, he's never been wrong."

"Sit back and fasten your seat belt," Champion ordered, shifting the ATV into a lower gear to climb the almost vertical slope before them.

Jaylene half obeyed, sitting back a little and hanging on to the front seats as the vehicle bounded through ruts deep enough to engulf most other cars or trucks.

"Hurry," Lucas repeated. He coughed, seemed to gasp for air.

"Goddammit," Jaylene said grimly.

"Jesus, is he there with Lindsay?" Champion demanded, pushing the ATV to its straining limits.

"He feels what she feels," Jaylene repeated. "Hurry."

Lucas gasped again. Breathed shallowly.

Champion was glad the ATV was making so much noise, its engine laboring and tires clawing like a cat for traction, because what was happening in the passenger seat was literally making his skin crawl.

It was as if Lindsay was there. Sitting there, in the leather seat. Drowning. Every faint gasp sounded like somebody drowning, and Champion knew it was Lindsay. He felt it was her, so strongly that he was afraid to turn his head and look, because he was absolutely sure she'd be there.

Drowning.

What he didn't know was just how connected the federal agent was, never mind how he was doing this. The point was that he was doing it, that he was somehow tied to Lindsay, so what would happen if she did drown?

Champion didn't ask.

Jaylene pulled herself forward and held on to keep herself steady in the jolting vehicle as she peered at her partner. "Luke?"

He coughed, muttered, "Dark."

"Oh, shit. Glen, how far?"

"At least fifteen minutes," he replied, fighting the wheel and the ATV's tendency to buck.

"Luke-"

"No. No, goddammit…"

Champion sneaked a quick glance at Lucas and realized immediately that whatever thread had connected him to Lindsay had been snapped. He looked dazed, shaking his head as though to clear dizziness.

"Luke?"

Thickly, he said, "The bastard left her alone. He left her alone. All those hours."

Jaylene didn't say another word. And neither did Lucas. He sat there in the bucking, straining vehicle beside Deputy Champion, his pale face and haunted eyes telling anybody who cared to look what they would find when they reached the old gold mine.

Even so, when they broke into the cinder-block building that had once served as the storehouse for the mine, Champion wasn't prepared for what they found.

To his dying day, he'd never forget the sight of Lindsay Graham suspended in a water-filled tank, garishly lighted from above, her open, sightless eyes accusing them all.

Monday, October 1

Detective Lindsay Graham was buried on a gray and misty afternoon, laid to rest in the family plot beside her parents. They, too, had died before their time, though in their case it had been the fault of a drunk driver and an icy highway. They hadn't been carried to their graves in a flag-draped coffin by uniformed police officers, hadn't been saluted by dozens of other cops, many of them openly weeping, while bagpipes played plaintively.

Their deaths hadn't been front-page news in even the Golden local, far less several regional newspapers, and no news crews had pestered what family survived them for comments.

Lindsay died far more famous-or infamous-than she had ever been in life, a fact that undoubtedly would have roused little in her except cynical amusement. Because in the end, famous or not, Lindsay was lowered alone into the ground just as her parents had been.