Kay Hooper - Hunting Fear

"Idiot. They're coming. Just a few more minutes."

He frowned slightly, and said, "I don't think my own imagination would call me an idiot. Although-"

"Just hold on."

"Lindsay? Is that you?"

Silence.

"Didn't think so. I don't believe in ghosts. Don't think I even believe in heaven, though it would be nice to believe you were waiting for me somewhere beyond this life."

"Don't be maudlin."

Wyatt found himself grinning. "Now, that sounds like my Lindsay. Come to keep me company in my final moments, baby?"

"You aren't going to die. Not now."

Deciding he was probably just quietly hysterical rather than being as calm as he'd thought, Wyatt said, "Twenty minutes left on the clock, babe. And I don't hear the cavalry."

He didn't hear her voice again either, though he did try to listen for it. And hoped for it. Because there were, he thought, worse things to take into death than the voice of the woman he loved.

When Lucas stopped suddenly, it caught Caitlin off guard. She leaned against an oak tree, trying to get her ragged breathing under control, and stared at the two just a couple of yards ahead of her. Her legs felt like rubber, there was a stitch in her side, and she couldn't remember ever being this weary.

They had finally reached the top of the ridge they had spent more than two hours climbing and from this position could see across a fairly level clearing to where the mountain again began rising steeply upward.

Caitlin stared up at that vast, looming shape and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't go on. Not up that… thing. She was just about to gather the breath to tell the others, when she heard Samantha speak.

"Luke? What is it?" She sounded remarkably calm and not the least bit breathless.

"He's not afraid anymore."

Samantha frowned up at him. "But you can still feel him?"

"Yeah. But he's calm. Not afraid anymore."

Glen looked at his watch and said desperately, "We've got less than fifteen minutes. Where is he?"

Lucas turned his head and looked briefly at the deputy, frowning, then began moving forward again, faster. "Over there. The mine."

"There's a mine up here?" Glen sounded surprised, but then followed that question with a disgusted, "Oh, Christ, I forgot all about the old mine on Six Point Creek. It closed down when my grandfather was a kid."

Caitlin, somehow finding the strength to hurry along with the others, was about to ask where the creek was when she nearly fell into it. Swearing under her breath, she followed the others as they jumped from rock to rock to cross the twenty-foot-wide, fairly shallow stream.

The entrance to the mine lay nearly hidden behind what looked like a thicket of honeysuckle, and all Caitlin could think was that it had to be really, really dark in there.

Glen paused long enough to shrug out of the backpack he'd grabbed from the ATV, and quickly handed out big police flashlights. He started to draw his weapon, but Lucas spoke, his voice certain.

"Nobody's here except Wyatt. At least…"

Hesitating with a hand on his gun, Glen said, "At least what? Has he booby-trapped the place?"

Lucas seemed to be listening, and after a brief moment, he turned on his flashlight and shoved the tangle of vines aside to enter the mine. "No. No trap. Let's go."

The mine shaft was fairly clear of debris and angled slightly upward into the mountain, with plenty of room for them all to move freely. They traveled probably sixty or eighty feet in a straight line, and then the shaft turned sharply to the right-and widened considerably into a sort of cavern.

They saw the light then, bright and harsh and focused on the deadly, eerie guillotine and its captive.

Both Glen and Lucas, cops acting on instinct, rushed forward. Caitlin leaned a hand against the damp wall, feeling decidedly weak with relief-because that gleaming blade was still suspended above Wyatt. Still, she didn't think she breathed normally until she was certain that Glen held the cable so that the blade remained securely up while Lucas was unfastening the straps holding the sheriff prisoner.

She looked to the side then and saw that Samantha also had paused for a moment. There was just enough light for her to see the other woman lift a shaking hand briefly to her face, and then Samantha was moving forward and speaking calmly.

"Can I help?"

Lucas was easing up the wooden block pinning Wyatt's neck to the table, and said, "Got it, I think. Wyatt-"

The sheriff lost no time in sitting up, removing himself from harm's way. He slid to the edge of the table so that he was sitting on it. He was pale and haggard, but there was also a peculiar peace in his face. "The cavalry did come," he said, only a slight quiver in his voice. "How about that."

Then he turned his head, and they all followed his gaze to watch the nearby clock's digital readout counting relentlessly down. Nobody said a word as the last two minutes on the timer ran out-and Glen found himself suddenly supporting the weight of the heavy steel blade as a soft click announced the release of the cable. He carefully eased the blade down until it rested in the stained groove of the table.

"Shit," Wyatt said in a wondering voice. "I thought I was a dead man."

"You almost were," Lucas said. He went to study the clock, which was actually attached to a metal rod hanging downward from the lighting. "And the bastard really wanted you to know it, didn't he?"

"I'll never look at a clock the same way again." Wyatt frowned slightly as first Samantha and then Caitlin entered the circle of bright light. "Hey. Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"The old Six Point Creek mine," Glen told him, sounding considerably relieved. "And if you'll all excuse me, I need to get out of here so I can radio the other search teams. Assuming I can get a signal out here, that is." He hurried away.

Still eyeing the women, Wyatt said, "What are you two doing here?"

Lucas immediately said, "If it hadn't been for them, we would never have found you in time."

"Yeah? Did Lindsay talk to one of you?"

They all looked at him in surprise, and it was Caitlin who said somewhat hesitantly, "She talked to me. Sort of. Left me a note."

"Which pointed us in this direction," Samantha said. "After that, it was Luke connecting to you that got us here."

Wyatt flinched slightly, and said to Lucas in a wry tone, "I won't talk about it if you won't."

"Done," Lucas said immediately.

Samantha said, "Did Lindsay talk to you, Sheriff?"

Surprising them all again, Wyatt replied firmly, "You know, I think she did. Could have been my imagination, of course, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't. She told me you were coming."

Samantha wanted to ask him if that was why he'd stopped being afraid, but didn't. Whatever Wyatt Metcalf had experienced here in this dark and lonely mine with a clock counting down and a steel blade set to end his life was his own business.

Instead, she said, "It'll be dark by the time we get back down to the truck. Luke, I know you want to examine this place-"

"That can wait," he responded. "We'll send a couple of deputies to keep an eye on things tonight, then come back first thing in the morning with the CSU team. Not that I expect them to find anything useful. Wyatt, I don't suppose you saw the bastard?"

"Didn't even hear him. As far as I could tell, when I woke up this place was deserted. Except for me."

"He's being very careful," Samantha noted. "He talked to Lindsay. Talked to most of the other victims, didn't he?"

"We can't know for sure," Lucas told her. "Only the first victim survived to tell us."

"Can't legally know for sure, but you know, don't you?"

He looked at her for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he talked to all of them, at least up to a point."