The Cave

by Amanda McKinney

  Owen snorted. “Temporary.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Quinn grinned.

  “Temporary’s too bad.” Wearing a black T-shirt and khaki pants with permanent stains at the knees, Aaron slapped him on the back. “I was gonna try to talk you into joining the SAR team. Kyle will be leaving us soon. Could always use a guy like you, especially after seeing you navigate the cave today.”

  Aaron didn’t know how many times Owen had navigated that cave alone, and all the surrounding caves, during his last visit to Berry Springs.

  “Like an old shoe,” he said. “Hell, you and I probably explored that very cave together when we were kids.”

  Aaron’s folks owned a lake house a few miles from his dad’s cabin and despite their five year age difference, Owen and Aaron would meet up to explore the woods until the cow bells rang through the air reminding them to get home. Until Aaron’s parents divorced and he moved across town, that is.

  The good ol’ days.

  Aaron chuckled. “Remember how mad our folks would get when we’d come home covered in bat shit?”

  “Looks like it never washed off.” Owen nodded to Aaron’s arms, a mismatch of black and red designs. “Damn dude, how many tattoos you got now?”

  Aaron smiled proudly, as a parent would as they looked at their newborn son—although Aaron didn’t have a newborn son. His wife left him before that ever happened. It was a typical small-town story of two high school sweethearts who decided to take the plunge before either of them knew what real commitment was.

  Some days, Owen wondered if he even knew what real commitment was.

  “I quit counting years ago. A few are pretty recent.”

  “Pamela never did like tattoos, did she?” Dean asked.

  “Nope.” Aaron grabbed his beer and scoffed, “Marriage. Who needs it? Anyway,” he shifted, obviously ready to change the subject. “When you heading back to Louisiana?”

  “Not soon enough.”

  Dean tilted his head to the side. “I think our boy here needs a few nights on the Buffalo river—a little reminder where he came from.”

  Wesley’s brows tipped up. “Could use that myself. Boys trip. Beer, whiskey, fishing, canoeing. Hell yeah. I’ll haul my boat down and we can spend some time on the lake. Get you back in the water. It’s not the ocean, but still has plenty of bikinis.”

  Water sounded good, and bikinis not bad, either. Owen missed the ocean. Over the last few months, he’d done nothing but work the beat, work at the outfitters, and work on his father’s crumbling cabin. He should make some time for a little R&R.

  “I’m sure they’ll be plenty of damsels you can save on the lake.”

  The image of Sadie’s curvy body and pink lips popped into his head… as it had a hundred times over the last hour. He cleared his throat and forced the image away.

  “What can I get ya, sweetheart?” A gray-haired waitress wearing a colorful mini-skirt and tattoos to match slid an icy glass in front of him.

  “This’ll work, thanks.”

  “Anything to eat?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  The waitress grinned, winked, then sauntered away as Quinn served him from the pitcher.

  “You went into the Coast Guard, right?” Wesley leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Owen took a deep sip, then nodded. “Rescue swimmer.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  Wesley chuckled. “You guys saved our asses once. It’s a hell of a job, man. Never liked the water that much.”

  “This from the special ops marine.” Dean popped a chicken strip into his mouth.

  “Water’s a different animal.”

  Yes, she is.

  Aaron started chatting up a group of college-aged girls at the next table as Quinn’s phone beeped. After checking the text, Quinn showed it to Dean, who then pulled out his own phone as the two began discussing whatever needed their attention.

  Wesley sipped his beer, habitually ignoring the cop-talk. “Sorry about your dad, man.”

  Owen’s jaw twitched. “Thanks.”

  A moment ticked by.

  “Thing is… people don’t understand.” Wesley stared into his beer, his face darkening as he slid into memories, or perhaps nightmares. Owen knew the look because he’d seen it on his dad several times.

  Wesley continued, “War messes you up. It’s a mind fuck, man. We pledge ourselves to this country and then are given orders, and we’re trained to execute those orders—no questions asked. It’s the job, and I fucking loved every minute of it. But… once the bodies start piling up… and then nothing comes from the mission…” He shook his head. “They’ll say it wasn’t for nothing, of course, but you know. You know when shit goes sideways.” He shrugged, sipped. “But, then, another mission comes, and goes off without a hitch, and you know you were a part of something that saved lives. Good and bad, I guess. It’s an intense way to live.” He snorted. “Then you get out and… it still has a hold of you.”

  “Christ, man,” Dean blew out a breath and hollered at the waitress. “Can you get this guy a shot of Patron? Make it a double.”

  Wesley grinned and downed his beer. “Sorry.”

  “No shit, man… does anyone have a razor blade?” Quinn flagged the waitress and circled his finger in the air—shots all around.

  Owen laughed, but the truth was, he understood. His military life had been different than most, especially those in special ops, but he’d seen his fair share of death. He knew it all too well… but did it turn him into a blubbering alcoholic who couldn’t function in life? Fuck, no.

  He was not his dad.

  “What got you off on that tangent?” Quinn asked.

  “Ah hell, just talking about his dad. Was just saying that I get it.”

  “Doesn’t excuse it.” Owen slowly spun his glass between his fingers.

  “No. Agreed. I’m just saying… ah, hell, just get me that fucking shot.”

  They laughed, and on cue, four tequilas slid in front of them.

  Ignoring the dressing, Owen tipped it back with the rest of the table.

  Camaraderie. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it the last few months.

  Quinn’s phone beeped again. He checked it, blew out a breath and leaned back. “That was Jessica. She just got Brian’s body and will start the autopsy tomorrow afternoon.” Pause. “Gonna be hard to tell if any assault occurred considering the condition of his body.”

  The playful vibe of the table had turned on a dime.

  “I bet it was the coyotes that got to him.” Wesley scowled. “Damn cotes.”

  “He was ripped to shreds, no doubt about it.” Quinn squeezed his face. “God, did you see his intestines and his—”

  “Dude. I was gonna order some wings.” Aaron scowled in disgust as he rejoined the conversation.

  “Sorry.”

  “Two gunshot wounds, you say?”

  Quinn nodded.

  “And not from hunters, like you told the excavation crew.” Owen sipped his beer.

  “Well, that’s going to be Crawly’s job to determine that considering the body was found in his jurisdiction. But… no way in hell. No way in hell is it a coincidence that bullets hit the kid after he reported finding the bones in Crypts Cavern.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Crawly tell his folks yet?”

  “Yep. After he and Tucker put the rope bridge over the ravine, they went to the kid’s house.”

  “Did they have anything useful to say?” Dean mindlessly tapped his shot glass on the table.

  “Not according to Crawly. They’re shocked, of course. Can’t imagine anyone doing this to their child on purpose.”

  “What about the other kid that found the bones? There were two, right?” Wesley asked, fully informed of the afternoon’s events.

  “Josh Penn. Clean. Both are good kids, good grades, never got in any trouble.” Quinn looked at Aaron. “Have you ever seen them out in the woods?�
��

  “Not that I can recall, but, you know how many kids visit that cave? Hell, how many kids I have saved from that damn cave?”

  “So… what?” Wesley said, getting back on point. “They call the bones in, you guys loop in the county police, and then this Brian kid goes back later by himself?”

  “Yep, according to Josh, Brian texted him asking him to go back with him. Wanted to check it out again. Curiosity, I assume. Brian’s truck was parked at the trailhead at the bottom of the mountain. No signs of break-in or any red flags. His phone was in his pocket, locked of course. Folks don’t know the password so they’re going to pull his phone records.”

  “So he goes back to explore the cave and gets gunned down.” Wesley’s eyebrows raised. “There’s something in that cave that whoever killed Brian doesn’t want to be found.”

  “We searched the room the body was in, and everywhere we could, when we checked it out. Took pictures before we called in forensics. Dean and I looked at the pictures again this afternoon. Nothing but rock and bones. Not to say that there’s nothing else there, but shit, man, how many places are there to hide evidence in a damn cave? We don’t even know where it ends.”

  “Well, there’s something there that’s being guarded. I’m going to find it.” Owen’s fists tightened around his beer.

  “What about the people excavating the bones? Is Crawly assigning someone to watch over them?” Aaron asked.

  “Don’t think so, especially considering no foul play has been determined at this point. Nothing to suggest they’re in any kind of danger. Truthfully, Brian really could have caught a few stray bullets. They’re scheduled to be here overnight tonight, and leave tomorrow.” Quinn sipped his beer. “I’ll be out there first thing tomorrow.”

  “Oh well, that’s good, because nothing bad happens in the night.” Sarcasm colored Owen’s tone. He didn’t like the idea of Sadie and her team staying overnight in the woods alone, and it pissed him off that Crawly didn’t give a shit. If Sadie had been alone? No fucking doubt that pervert would pitch a tent next to her. Pun intended.

  “Hey, man, my hands are tied.” Quinn shrugged. “Crawly’s calling the shots.”

  “What about Deputy Tucker? Ask him to stay out there.” Owen said.

  Quinn raised his hands—not his jurisdiction.

  Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “So we’ve got a dead teenager and a human skeleton with no ID, and someone who wanted to make some sort of stupid political statement with his bones. All we know is that the bones appear to be less than a year old, and belong to a male who was possibly stabbed in the ribs.” Dean deadpanned to Owen, waiting for him to say something. He’d expected it. Dean knew Owen’s family and all their issues.

  “Thoughts, Owen?”

  Owen glanced at his empty shot glass, willing it to refill itself. He didn’t want to get into his conspiracy theories until he knew more about the bones.

  Quinn looked at Wesley, then frowned as all eyes turned to him.

  He sipped, exhaled. “You all know about what happened to my uncle, seven months ago.” It was a statement, not a question. “The official report said he died spelunking in a cave around Devil’s Cove, a few miles from Crypts Cavern.” He shot Quinn a look, “Right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “But his body was never found.”

  Wesley cocked a brow. “I’m not sure I knew that little detail… his body was never found?”

  Owen nodded at Quinn to pick up the story, who then said, “Seven months ago, we received a call from Amos Abner, the manager of Ozark Outfitters, saying that he was afraid that Ray, Owen’s uncle, had gone missing—”

  “Wait. Amos? Les’s employee?”

  “Right. According to Amos, Les, Owen’s dad, had mentioned a few times that he hadn’t heard from Ray in a few days and was worried about him. Said he’d gone out caving and that was it. This went on for a few more days, and Amos decided to drop us a call.”

  “Why didn’t Les make the call?”

  “Les… uh, wasn’t in the best head space.”

  Owen cut in. “I didn’t even know any of this at the time, by the way. My dad didn’t even call to ask me if maybe I’d heard from Ray.”

  Quinn nodded. “So, we go out to the caves, and after a few days of searching, we found his backpack, headlamp, and repelling ropes dangling down a crazy, narrow-ass hole in one of the caves. Goes down more than fifty feet. The rope was frayed at the bottom—the obvious assumption was that it popped, and he fell.” Quinn shook his head. “To my knowledge, and everyone I spoke with, no one had ever attempted to repel in that spot. Way too dangerous. The only way we know it goes down that far was because we had Kyle, the SAR guy, volunteer to go down and search for the body. Dude couldn’t even squeeze down to where the rope ended. We found traces of Ray’s blood along the narrow sides, which we assume he cut himself on the rocks, on the way down.”

  “Damn, dude. And no body? Nothing else?” Wesley frowned.

  “Nope.”

  Owen picked up the story. “At that point, dad called and told me what had happened.” He shook his head, his pulse quickening. “I was shocked.”

  “But Ray went caving all the time, or so I heard? It’s dangerous shit.”

  Owen waited a second to respond. “It just doesn’t add up.” He clenched his jaw and spun the shot glass. “My uncle was adventurous, and yeah, a bit wild, but he wasn’t stupid. He wouldn’t go down in that hole. Hell, even I tried to go down it when I came back for the funeral. I couldn’t get down as far as the end of his rope suggested he did.” He paused. “And let’s just assume for a second that Ray was stupid enough to go down it. He wouldn’t have gone without someone there with him. Period.”

  A moment slid by.

  “We even brought in an out-of-state survey crew,” Quinn said, “which didn’t tell us much more about the cave than what we’d already had drawn up from years earlier. It’s impossible to tell that far into the ground without being able to actually get there and take measurements. We couldn’t find Ray’s phone, so nothing came from that. No friends or family had seen him that morning. His house didn’t turn up any clues, other than that he’d packed for a day in the woods. By all accounts, Ray Grayson had decided to go caving and fell to his death. Devil’s Cove is technically in Berry Springs so we took the case, but worked closely with Crawly on it, considering the lines were so close. We had a lot of people on it.” Quinn flickered a glance at Owen, sadness—or guilt, maybe—shining from his eyes. “We had his frayed rope and blood on the rocks, and a damn bottomless pit. McCord ruled it an accident and the case was closed.”

  Owen downed his beer, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and said, “And now, there’s a mysterious skeleton, who appears to have been murdered, found in a cave not two miles away from the cave where everyone assumes my uncle died.”

  “Just fucking say it, Owen. You think it’s your uncle.” Dean leaned forward.

  “Yeah.” His gaze leveled the table. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Y’all were close, weren’t you?” Wesley asked.

  Owen nodded, his stomach twisting. “He pretty much raised me while my dad was deployed, which was pretty much always. Hell, Ray was more of a father to me than my real dad. But, when Dad left the Navy and came home full time, I didn’t see much of him anymore. Think there was kind of a rift or something.”

  “What? Like your dad was jealous of you and Ray’s relationship?”

  Owen shrugged. “Possibly. I’m sure he noticed I looked at Ray like a father.” He chuckled. “And I know he always gave Ray shit for hitting on my mom. Guy was a hell of a flirt.”

  Aaron’s phone dinged. After checking it, he chugged his beer and pushed away from the table. “Cows callin’ me home.” He looked at Owen. “Never believed Ray fell down that hole, either, for what it’s worth. See you tomorrow morning?”

  “Yep. Have fun with your herd.”

  “I’ve got to get on, too. Aaron, I’ll walk o
ut with you.” Dean pulled a twenty from his wallet and slapped it on the table. “See you tomorrow.”

  Wesley snatched Dean’s beer and chugged the rest. “Any idea when they’ll have an ID on the bones?”

  Quinn tapped his phone, checking to see if he had any new messages. “Not sure,” then he glanced up and grinned at Owen. “That’s assuming your girl’s not paralyzed with fear in the corner of her camper.”

  “Your girl?” Wesley needled.

  “If she was my girl, Crawly’d be missing a tooth right now.”

  “Whoa, heeeeey…” Wesley grinned while Quinn chuckled.

  “He didn’t hide it, did he? That perverted old bastard.” Quinn laughed. “I swear to God, I could see his nasty old man boner from a mile away when he was watching her come down that ravine. Correction—while he was watching Owen carry her down the ravine.”

  “Okay someone fill me in here… on everything but Crawly’s boner, you sick fucks.”

  Quinn sipped, still chuckling. “The forensic anthropologist we called in to excavate the bones. Hot as fuck, but crazy scared of heights, apparently.”

  “No shit?” Wesley smirked and turned to Owen. “Sounds like you don’t need the lake to find your damsel in distress. You literally carried her down the ravine?”

  “Oh, he wasn’t complaining, trust me.” Quinn was enjoying this way too much.

  “Kind of like you weren’t complaining about staring up at a boner for twenty minutes. Jealous, Colson?”

  Quinn raised his eyebrows. “A little sensitive when it comes to the new girl, huh?”

  “Okay so who is this chick?” Wesley asked.

  “Name’s Sadie Hart. Works for KT Crime Labs.”

  “You say Sadie Hart?”

  “Yeah…” Owen frowned at Wesley’s wide eyes, knowing he wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of the man’s mouth.

  “Dude…” Wesley yanked out his phone, “This Sadie Hart?”

  Owen looked down at the picture of a young couple dressed to the nines—a beautiful brunette in a red velvet gown, sparkling everywhere except for her eyes, standing next to an overly-tanned Ken Doll in a fancy tuxedo and black wingtips that Owen bet cost more than one of his paychecks. He looked like the type of guy who’d never had a spec of dirt under his manicured fingernails. Ken Doll was every guy Owen couldn’t stand. His gaze lingered on Sadie—the forced smile, the rigid posture. It was complete opposite of the playful glimpses he’d seen from her in the woods, the passionate twinkle in her eye when he’d catch her watching him from a distance.