The Kate Jones Thriller Series 1-4 (Boxed Set)

by D. V. Berkom

  The mini landslide came to a standstill. Sterling and I both let out audible sighs. He stood and dusted himself off.

  “Good try, but luck's with me this time. It'll be nice to hear you beg me to put you out of your misery.” He slid off his gloves and tucked them back in his pocket. "Ten years is a long time to wait. Watching will be the best entertainment I've had in a while." He glanced at the canvas bag at my feet. "Looks like you don't have much time left." One of the snakes had crawled free of the others and was now tasting the air with its tongue.

  A couple of small rocks fell from the ceiling and hit Sterling on the head. He shook them off and looked up. More started to fall.

  The rumble started low, reverberating deep within the mine. The ground started to shake. Sterling caught himself as he fell against the wall. Rocks, dirt and debris fell to the ground. I flattened myself against the honey wagon, trying to become as small as possible. Pieces of the tunnel glanced off my shoulders and arms. The sound of splintering beams cracked through the chaos. The mine was collapsing on itself. Sterling and his headlamp staggered back the way we came, arms raised over his head.

  One minute, the sky was falling. The next, total stillness. I tried to take a breath, but ended up coughing from the dust.

  I'd been plunged into a darkness so complete, there were no reference points, not even a trace of light. Sterling's headlamp had been the only source of light in the mine. I looked down, but couldn't see my hands. The mine's icy temperature crawled up my spine like a caress from a corpse.

  I thought fleetingly of Cole and whether anyone would find my body. The possibility was grim. Chances of survival were dismal. There was no reason for anyone to investigate the mine. No one knew I was here. Hell, I didn't even know where I was. For all I knew Sterling could have taken me across the border into Mexico.

  Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrtttt! The snake’s rattle got my attention. I’d forgotten about them in the collapse. I imagined the snakes escaping the bag, coiled and strike-ready, close to my bare feet. Alarmed, I raised my knees, dragging my bound ankles away from the invisible threat.

  I felt no bite, no pain. Panic rode high in my throat and I began to work my hands back and forth, trying to loosen the ropes. Sterling had tied them tight and it wasn’t easy. At the same time, I twisted my body from side to side and back and forth, trying to fray the rope around the metal edges of the honey wagon.

  The stillness of the mine amplified my ragged breathing and every so often a rattle pierced through the darkness, ramping up my panic. I tried to calm myself, not knowing how much oxygen I had. Running out of air was a distinct possibility. Probably better than snake venom, but still, not a great way to die.

  I worked the ropes hard, my fear of the snakes edging close to hysteria. I wrenched a hand free and bent to the ropes that bound my ankles. Like a dog worrying a bone, I kept at the knot; easing, pushing, picking. Not easy with fingers clumsy from the cold.

  One more try and the rope came free. Now all that remained was the one around my chest. That, and find a way to dig out of a collapsed mine tunnel with no light source and no tools.

  Easy.

  The snakes had cooperated up to this point, but I think they had become attracted to my body heat. The sound of slithering over loose gravel grew closer. In my mind's eye, I saw the others poking their elongated heads out of the canvas bag, curious where their buddy had gone.

  Perspiration dripped down my face and back as I ratcheted up my activity, slouching and straining against the rope, trying to stretch it enough so that it would either snap or I'd be able to slip underneath it. My pulse slammed in my ears as fear threatened to overwhelm me.

  The rope loosened enough for me to slide out from under it. Scrambling on hands and knees, I moved as far away from the slithering noises as I could get.

  Antarctica would be too close.

  I felt my way around the honey wagon and along the damp rock wall, tripping over rocks, hunting for an opening. Nothing but sticky cobwebs. Half-expecting to disturb a Brown Recluse or some other death-spider, I continued to grope my way along the wall.

  Disoriented, I raised my hand in front of my face, but couldn't even make out a silhouette. I wasn't sure where I stood in relation to the tunnel and the way out. Sticking close to the wall, I fumbled along until another wall stopped me. This time it was loose rubble, not solid stone.

  On the off chance that it was debris from the collapse, I moved along its face and pushed at the rock, searching for an opening. Before long, I came up against the impenetrable rock wall on the other side of the mine. At least now I knew where I stood in relation to the entrance.

  A long fucking way.

  Panic threatened to take the lead, and once again I fought it back down to where I could function. I calmed myself with deep breaths and went through my options. I had one. Dig, and dig fast. The air smelled musty and stagnant and I didn't know how much time I had.

  I reached down and felt along the ground for something dense. My hand closed around a rock that I thought might work. It had heft and was pointed at one end. I chose a section of the loose rock wall and climbed upward, cursing the sharp rocks jabbing into my cold, bare feet. The wall should be thinner near the top, making it easier to break through to the other side. That was my theory, at least.

  With every step I slid back when loose debris gave way. It was like the Stair Master from hell. I stopped to catch my breath and it occurred to me Sterling's body was somewhere beneath all this rubble.

  He did say he wanted closure.

  I continued my battle upward and reached the top of the pile after what seemed like hours. I knew it was the top because I hit my head on the solid roof of the mine. I slammed the rock in my hand against the loose rubble. The sound of cascading debris tumbling down to the floor of the mine gave me hope.

  To try and dig rock with another rock is slow and painful. I scraped my knuckles raw, but kept working, despite inhaling dust. Stories about being buried alive kept popping up in my mind, but I didn’t allow myself to go into detail. I'd had first-hand experience five years before in Hawaii and didn't want to relive the fear and claustrophobia I'd felt. I forced myself to focus on getting out. At least I had room to move.

  And then my rock hit air.

  I shoved my hand through the small hole and began to pull away more debris. Sweet, cold air flowed toward me from the opening. It took me a while to enlarge the space enough for me to squeeze through. Exhilarated, I shimmied through and half-climbed, half slid down the large pile of rubble to the other side. Once I'd hit bottom, I sat for a moment, waiting to get my bearings.

  It was still pitch dark. I inched over to the wall of the mine, using it as my lifeline.

  Then I started to walk. Shivering, I swung my arms, trying to generate some warmth. My feet were like bricks and I stumbled, becoming less coordinated with each step. At least hypothermia was a better death than snake venom. I’d just go to sleep.

  I had no idea how long the tunnel was, or if the collapse had blocked it further up. I put one foot in front of the other, counting the steps to keep my mind from wandering. When that got old, I started singing hit songs from the seventies.

  My calves strained from the pressure of walking at an upward slant and my breath came out in hard gasps. My body temperature had begun to reverse its downward trend and I started to sweat.

  After walking at a steady pace for what seemed like miles, I noticed I could make out simple shapes. I brought my hand in front of my face and saw the faint outline of my fingers. An eternity later, I stumbled out of the mine, relieved beyond words to see stars in the night sky.

  I needed to figure out where I was and find a main road. I scanned the area for Sterling's vehicle and wasn't surprised when I didn't see it. He'd leave it well hidden.

  Leaning against the hard rock of the entrance to the mine, I closed my eyes, the urge to lie down overwhelming. I had to get to a phone to call Cole. There was no way around it. I'd have to tell him abo
ut Sterling and Mexico.

  At least he'd have a good lead on the murders. I wondered why Sterling felt the need to kill innocent bystanders. Had he become so warped during his time in prison that he killed folks for effect? Too bad I couldn’t ask.

  I banged the back of my head against the rock until it hurt. Things with Cole had been going so well. Couldn't a girl just put the past behind her and move on to live a normal life?

  An old shaman once told me I had bad spirits following me. Apparently, they were back from vacation.

  As I put distance between me and the mine, walking along a gritty mule trail, a profound weariness settled deep in my bones. My numb feet muted the pain of the sharp stones.

  I'm not sure when I reached the forest service road. The sky was still dark, and I had no idea which way to go. There were no lights in the distance, no warm, welcoming homesteads with hot coffee and something to eat. If I made the wrong choice, I could be wandering out here for days. Shadows of nameless mountains were almost visible in the distance. It didn't matter. I didn't recognize any of them. Sterling made sure he'd executed his little plan miles from anywhere. He wasn't one to take chances. I was sure he anticipated the possibility of my escape. He'd been trained to leave nothing to chance.

  I picked a direction and started to walk.

  The gravel road did a number on my bare feet, and the sexy little dress I'd been so careful to wear for Cole turned out to be the worst kind of insulation from the desert evening's chill. But I kept moving. To stop would be giving up.

  The sound of a motor startled me out of my zombie-march. I turned to watch, too exhausted to move out of the way.

  The headlights reminded me of one of those bouncing karaoke lights, the kind that points to the words you're supposed to sing on a screen. The lights drew closer. Still, I didn’t move. The vehicle slowed and pulled to a stop a few feet away. I squinted against the glare of the headlights, waiting for some kind of acknowledgment. I figured folks in these parts didn't take kindly to being approached by strangers.

  "Need a ride?" The voice was like a chain saw sliding over wet gravel.

  I nodded.

  "C'mon then, git in. I ain't got all night."

  I moved to the side of the car and opened the door. An empty can of Rolling Rock bounced onto the road. I left it and climbed in, glancing at the old man behind the wheel as I closed the door against the harsh night. I leaned my head back, thankful to be somewhere warm, with someone other than Sterling.

  "Thanks for the ride." A spring poked through the seat. I shifted, trying to get comfortable and took a long look at my rescuer.

  His bushy gray hair and beard looked like he hadn't run a comb through them in years. His pants were caked with dirt, and he wore several layers of ancient, long-sleeved flannel shirts. A khaki-colored field vest with every pocket bulging completed the outfit. He smelled like Sunday night at a polka festival; boiled sausage, sauerkraut and beer. A worn leather cowboy hat took up prime real estate on the front seat.

  "What're you doing way out here? Ain't nothing but coyotes and crazy old men." He chuckled, setting off a round of explosive coughing. He hammered on the dash like the phlegm was in the car instead of his lungs.

  "Dinner date gone bad. How far am I from Durm?"

  "Be a damned long walk, 'specially the way you was goin'." The old guy shook his head and spit tobacco into a can as he maneuvered the car around and headed the opposite direction I'd been walking. "Lady like yerself shouldn't be foolin' around with the kind of feller who'd take you out here and dump you in the middle of the night, plain as you please. No sir, that ain't no way to treat a woman. Why, when I had my Mary-" Clearing his throat, he pawed at his eyes. It took him a moment to regain control.

  "When my Mary was still alive, I worshipped the ground she walked on. Made the best rabbit stew you ever had the chance to eat." He gave me a sidelong glance and nodded. "You hold out for a good one, hear? Not some shit bag who leaves you wanderin' alone in the wilderness. Life's too damned short."

  I didn't tell him my track record hadn’t been too good. Instead, I gave him directions to Art and Barb’s place. Leaning back in the seat, I closed my eyes.

  Despair hung thick and stagnant in the car, and it wasn't only from memories of Mary.

  FIVE

  The car lurched to a stop and I bolted awake. The old man had pulled over to the side of the road, next to Art and Barb’s driveway. I reached for the door handle, but before I could get out he placed a gnarled, arthritic hand on my arm. His fingernails were black with dirt.

  “Don’t ever let something like that happen agin, hear? You look like a smart woman.”

  “Wish I could agree with your assessment. Thanks again for the ride. I owe you.”

  He snorted. “Hell, I’d do the same for anybody out there in the middle of the night. You just take care of yerself, and remember what I said about waitin' on the right one.”

  “Is it really that easy?”

  He shrugged and smiled, revealing gapped and yellowed teeth. I dragged myself out of the car, let the door swing shut and watched the glowing tail lights fade away as he drove off into the early dawn. A lone coyote yipped somewhere in the distance, unanswered. I wrapped my arms around my waist and walked down the drive to the house.

  The lights were on, inside and out. I had no idea what time it was, or even if it was still the same night.

  Art and Barb were waiting for me as I walked into the living room. Their dog, Rudy, barked happily and scampered over for pets. I reached down, but stopped short when I saw the look on their faces.

  Barb crossed the room in two strides, took my elbow and led me to the couch. She grabbed a blanket off the back of a chair and wrapped it around me.

  “What happened? You look awful.”

  “Long story. I need to call Cole.”

  Art’s face was dark with anger but another emotion played at the edges of his eyes. “Cole's already been here. Said you left him at the party to go along with some other guy."

  With a sigh, I leaned my head back. I didn’t have the energy to explain.

  Barb sighed. “Look at her, Art. She's filthy, half frozen and doesn't have any shoes on. You tell me she's had a good evening."

  Art nodded as he looked me over. His expression softened. "He came by to see if you got home all right. Where have you been?"

  I tried to frame my answer so it didn't sound made up, but couldn't figure out a way to describe my evening.

  "I need to call Cole."

  Barb went into the kitchen and returned with the phone. I took it from her and punched in Cole's number.

  ***

  Cole pulled into the driveway within the hour. I dreaded talking to him, but knew I had to tell him about the mine incident and testifying against Sterling. The trial records had been sealed, so I didn’t think I was in any danger of the rest of my story getting out.

  Art let him in and murmured something to him that I couldn’t hear. Then he walked out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

  I sat on the couch. Cole chose the armchair across from me. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his mouth set in a hard line.

  “What happened, Kate?”

  This was going to be hard. I drew the blanket tighter around my body. "I’ll explain everything. But first, I have to tell you something and it's going to be difficult for me to do, so please let me get through it before you say anything."

  "I'm listening."

  The look on his face held a mixture of anger and something else- hurt? Betrayal? Mainly anger. I took a deep breath and explained about Sterling, how I'd been the cause of his incarceration, and that he'd been planning my death for years.

  I skirted around the issue of my drug cartel association, leaving out the parts I didn't think he needed to know, like stealing Salazar’s money. There was no reason to tell him everything. Even though I'd felt justified taking the money to get out of the situation I was in, it was not my finest hour.

&nb
sp; "How did Sterling get to you?"

  "That's where it gets a little complicated. Simon told me he knew me when I lived in Mexico and although I've tried, I can't remember ever meeting him. Sterling said he saw Simon and me together, although I’m sure I’d never met him before the day he gave me the tickets to the party.” I paused, remembering the tan sedan outside the grocery store and the sheriff’s office.

  “Simon told me he set up a private tour of Phase One of the project for the two of us, and that you were on your way to meet me. While I waited for you in his office, he must have drugged my champagne because I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I woke up in the abandoned mine with Sterling."

  "An abandoned mine?” he repeated. Disbelief skated across his features. “And why would Simon drug you and hand you over to a convicted criminal?”

  Now that I’d said it, I realized it sounded far-fetched. I struggled forward with my story, hoping he’d believe me.

  "He thinks I was responsible for some things that happened to him and when I didn't remember him, I guess he decided to teach me a lesson."

  "Were you?"

  "What?"

  "Responsible."

  I shook my head. "I had no idea what happened to him. The man I was with at that time threw a lot of parties to flaunt his wealth. There were hundreds of people in and out of the place, and I imagine Simon was one of many who hung around, hoping to get a piece of whatever he threw their way. I don't know what I did to give Simon the impression that I was interested, but it wouldn't have been the first time.” Being from the Midwest, I was raised to be polite and respectful to everybody. In the drug cartel world that was a rare thing and often construed as interest.

  "Apparently, some people decided that Simon was out of line and remedied the situation." I couldn't imagine what Salazar’s men did to him. Simon made the mistake of messing with one of his possessions- me.

  Cole nodded once, as though my response answered some question in his mind.