The Darkest Thread

by Jen Blood

  He looked away uncomfortably, Jamie’s blue eyes unexpectedly flashing in his mind. Angie shook her head. “Relax,” she said. “I’m not making another play for you—I know you’ve got somebody else on your mind these days.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Spare me,” she said. “It’s pretty obvious that you’ve got a thing for the dog trainer, Jack. I wish the two of you the very best… But in the meantime, I need to get out there and make this thing happen.”

  “You’re not taking this seriously—”

  She fixed him with a level glare. “Actually, I am. I always do. But sitting here pissing myself won’t get the job done, and this is one hell of an opportunity for me. So suck it up, Juarez, and let’s get out there.”

  He tried to think of another argument to keep her from going in, but he couldn’t. McDonough had signed off. Angie had signed off.

  This was happening.

  He just hoped to hell it didn’t come off as disastrously as he was afraid it would.

  * * *

  Chapter 23

  WE SEARCHED THE FOREST until the sun was fully up—not that you could tell the way the rain was pouring down. Searched as the minutes and then hours ticked by. Searched through mudslides, thick brush, downpours so torrential it felt like we were drowning on dry land. Searched so long that it felt like this was the end of the road for all of us. And we would keep searching until time ran out and the world ended, as far as I was concerned.

  It was almost nine o’clock and I was soaked to the bone when Phantom and Festus both took off into the forest together. Moments later, I heard the dogs’ distinctive alerts.

  “We’ve got something!” Cheryl called to me. She’d gone on ahead, but I could still see her blaze-orange vest through the trees.

  “What is it?” I asked. The question was met with silence. “Cheryl?”

  “Just come,” she finally called back. “I don’t know what in hell it is. Just…come.”

  Phantom returned to my side. “I know, I’m coming,” I said. She sat down in the mud and yawned at me. “Well, you try doing this on one leg and three hours of sleep and tell me how well you do.”

  She tipped her head, but I was beyond caring about her judgment.

  Twenty yards later, through two-inch-deep mud and thick brush, I finally caught up to Cheryl. She stood beside a huge stone structure, and she looked baffled.

  “It’s a cairn,” I said. “They’re supposed to be all over the mountain out here.”

  “I know it’s a cairn,” she said with a frown. “You think just ‘cause I’ve got the body of a supermodel I’ve never cracked a book?”

  “You asked what it was.”

  “Not that,” she said. She nodded me to a spot beside her while Festus and Phantom waited on the sidelines for us to confirm whether or not it was a successful find.

  The cairn was about six feet tall, built of stones covered in moss so heavy it would have been easy to mistake it for a simple hillside if seen from a distance. It had been built into the mountain, making it that much more difficult to find. At the front, there was a narrow entrance. Phantom trotted toward it, her nose up. As though ensuring I hadn’t forgotten, she lay down and barked twice, eyes on mine.

  I’ve done my job, now do yours. And where the hell’s my reward?

  “What am I looking for?” I asked Cheryl.

  “Can you get in there? My ass was smaller once upon a time, but there’s no way it’s clearing that door now.”

  I started to kneel, then realized the move was impossible with my knee in its current state. Instead, I bent at the waist and peered inside.

  “You see what I’m talking about?” she asked me.

  I did. It barely registered for me, though—the moment my head cleared the door, a chill climbed my spine and settled at the base of my skull. A familiar scream echoed in my brain.

  “There’s a tunnel,” I managed, staring at a black, gaping chasm at the back of the cairn. “Have you heard of something like this before?”

  “I never have,” she said. “I know about a dozen archaeologists and historians in the area who’ll blow their loads when they hear about it, though. There’s already plenty of mystery surrounding these old rock piles, but this takes the cake.”

  It seemed the folklore had its roots in truth after all: Glastenbury really was a special place. Extraordinary, really. This was far beyond a few coincidental disappearances in a 47,000-acre forest, though. I crouched down as best I could and twisted myself through the narrow opening. The inside of the structure was barely five feet high, so I had to stay down once I was through.

  “You should wait for backup,” Cheryl called to me from outside. “Didn’t you learn anything from the damn cave-in yesterday?”

  “Call Jack,” was all I said.

  A moment later, Phantom joined me. She bumped against my side, glancing up at me with what I took as resignation more than camaraderie. This is the person I’ve chosen. Might as well do what I can to make sure she doesn’t get herself killed.

  “Thanks,” I said. She bumped against me again, and I brushed her wet head with my hand. That simple contact was enough to steady my heart.

  “Ariel!” I shouted.

  There was no answer. I took out my flashlight and turned it on before Phantom and I continued, deeper into the bowels of the earth.

  It smelled like damp soil and pine needles when we first began. This was no limestone tunnel, but rather something carved from the dirt itself. Had it been here as long as the cairn had been, or was this more recent?

  The scream started again, but it seemed farther away than it had when I’d been in the well. Phantom whimpered beside me. I should send her back, I realized. Wait for Jack to come. I glanced at my watch, though, and knew I couldn’t do that.

  It was ten minutes past nine a.m.

  Bear and Ren had less than three hours left.

  #

  By the time Jack and Angie reached the Redfield house, both of them were already soaked. Jack noted that Angie’s carefully applied makeup was already running, and he wondered how she would deal with that out here. As soon as the house was in sight, Angie started forward. Jack caught her arm and pulled her back.

  “You said you wouldn’t interfere,” she said, wheeling on him.

  “I also said I’d keep you alive,” he said. “Just wait here while I get things set up. Unless you actually want to walk into an ambush.”

  She scowled at him, but nodded her agreement.

  The perimeter was lined with Dean’s men—some family, some just followers. All with guns; all looking none too pleased at Jack’s approach.

  “Dean?” Jack shouted toward the house. “I brought the reporter and her cameraman, like you asked.”

  “Send them in,” Dean called from behind the front door, his voice barely audible in the driving wind and pouring rain.

  “You know I can’t do that,” Jack shouted. “The negotiator talked to you about this—the reporter doesn’t go inside. You can do your interview on the porch. You’ve got men all over the place here. You’re safe.”

  “Like that matters,” Dean shouted back. “I get out there and I’m dead the second you’ve got a clear shot.”

  Jack hesitated, hoping that wasn’t a thought any of his fellow agents were entertaining. He glanced around the clearing. McDonough and a contingent of law enforcement had arrived a short time ago, but were keeping their distance. Meanwhile, Dean’s men remained steadfast, watching their every move.

  “What does that get us, Dean?” he asked. He took a hesitant step closer to the house. “We kill you, and the kids are still inside the house. We still have your militia to contend with. What good does that do us? Now come on—we’ve kept our end of the bargain. Let’s do this already.”

  It was a gamble, attempting to take charge in this way. Jack waited a tense second, then two, before the front door slowly opened. He glanced over his shoulder, where Angie and Trevor stood at the ready.

>   Dean appeared on the porch with his sister Wendy beside him. Despite the house’s general state of disrepair, the porch was covered and certainly provided more shelter than anyone else was getting from the elements. Regardless, brother and sister bent slightly into the wind. Dean’s face was slick with perspiration, his skin an unhealthy shade of pale yellow. He was definitely sick, Jack realized with a start.

  The older man stood unsteadily for a moment, Wendy supporting him with one arm. He pushed her away once he was in the open.

  “Where is she?” he demanded of Jack. “The reporter and her crew?”

  Jack nodded to Angie. For the first time, she looked nervous. Trevor had already started filming; now, he stepped forward as well. Dean straightened at sight of them, though it appeared to take some effort.

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “That’s good. For once, somebody kept their word.”

  “We’ve done something for you,” Jack said. “Now, how about you do something for me?” He plowed on even as Dean tensed. “I want to see the kids. Talk to them. Make sure they’re all right.”

  Dean scowled, but Jack held his ground. “You knew you weren’t getting something for nothing here, Dean. I just want to see them.”

  Dean whispered something to his sister. She frowned, but nodded and went back inside. Angie was getting anxious behind Jack; he watched as she scanned the trees, and he could all but hear her narrating the story in her head.

  Thirty seconds of taut silence later, the door opened again. The girl—Ren—came out first. She held out her hand, supporting Bear as he followed her into the open. Jack struggled to keep his horror at bay, grateful that Jamie wasn’t here.

  Bear’s complexion had taken on a deathly pall, deep circles etched beneath his eyes. The bandage at his arm was stained with blood, and sweat dripped down his face.

  Even if Dean let them go, Jack wasn’t sure the boy would survive the trip to the hospital.

  “You two hanging in okay?” he asked them, struggling to keep his voice even.

  “We’ve been better,” Bear said. His voice was barely audible. He wavered where he stood, and Ren leaned in to support him.

  “They’re feeding you?” Jack asked. “You’re keeping warm? Got the bleeding stopped?”

  “He needs to go to hospital,” Ren said, in heavily accented English. “They have been fine, but he needs antibiotics. Possibly a transfusion. Things I cannot give him here.”

  “He doesn’t look good,” Jack said, directing the statement at Dean. “It’s not too late to let them go—”

  “Bring Ariel back, and I’ll do just that,” Dean said. His voice was laced with venom. “But that’s the deal. I don’t have any other terms. Just that.”

  “Listen to me, Dean—” Jack began.

  “No, you bastard,” Dean cut him off. His body all but vibrated with suppressed rage. “There’s no deal. You saw them. They told you, we’re doing what we can do. You bring Ariel home by noon, and all this ends.”

  Jack started to say something more, but Dean shook his head. “I’m done talking to you.” He said something to Wendy that Jack couldn’t hear—presumably telling her to get the kids back inside, while he continued with the interview. She attempted to usher Bear and Ren inside, but Bear fought her, twisting back around to look at Jack.

  “This isn’t safe,” he said. “Coming in here right now—there’s something wrong with him—”

  “Get him back in there!” Dean shouted at Wendy. “So help me god—“

  “I don’t know what it is,” Bear persisted, “but something isn’t right.”

  Wendy’s attempts to silence the boy were futile, and Jack watched in horror as Dean turned his gun on the kids. “Goddamn it, I said get back in there!”

  “It’s all right,” Jack said quickly. “Bear, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it. Just get back in the house. We’ll get you out of this.”

  Ren looked ready to break at the outburst, but remained strong. Jack was moved at the sight of the two of them. All he wanted to do was storm the place and pull them out of there, but Wendy was already pushing them back through the door.

  Their time had run out.

  Jack just hoped it wasn’t for good.

  When they were gone, Dean announced that he needed five minutes before the interview could begin. As soon as he was back in the house, Jack turned to Angie and Trevor.

  “Okay, that’s it,” he said. “Interview’s off.”

  “The hell it is,” Angie said. She and Trevor were already gearing up, ready to charge ahead.

  “Didn’t you hear what the kid just said? There’s something wrong. Dean isn’t all there—”

  “Really?” Angie asked, eyes wide in mock surprise. “You mean to tell me a man who kidnapped two kids, a man who’s gone off the grid to live at the top of a haunted mountain with his family and a bunch of half-breed mountain men… You’re saying he might be unbalanced? Hang on, let me get my producer on the phone. We could have a whole new lead.”

  “Listen to me—” Jack began.

  She ignored him, returning to her cameraman. “Come on, Trev. Let’s do this.”

  Trevor looked at Jack helplessly and took a step toward the house. Jack grabbed Angie’s arm. This time, there was no humor in her eyes when she turned on him.

  “Let me go, Jack.”

  “I can’t do that—”

  She jerked her arm from his grip at the same time that she pulled her foot back and kicked him squarely in the shin.

  “Ow—Jesus!”

  He reached for her again even as she moved forward, but she stopped him with a killing glare. “It’s not your call, Jack,” she ground out. “This is the kind of shot that comes along once in a lifetime. I’m not blowing it. You want to come up there with me, that’s fine. But keep your mouth shut, and let me do my job.”

  This time, he made no move to stop her as she strode away.

  * * *

  Chapter 24

  JACK CALLED MCDONOUGH and put in one last plea to put an end to what he was now sure was a bad idea, but McDonough dismissed him out of hand.

  “Forget it, Juarez,” he said. “You’re there, Crenshaw is on board to follow through… Just get in there and talk to Dean, see what you can figure out.”

  Against his better judgment, Jack agreed to let Angie move forward with the interview—on the grounds that Dean allow him to sit in on the whole thing. Neither Dean nor Angie was enthusiastic, but both reluctantly agreed.

  They were on the porch for all of sixty seconds, rain dripping down on both of them through the leaky portico, before Dean nodded toward the door.

  “Come inside. I’m not doing this out here, it’s too open. I told you before: they’ll pick me off the second they get a clear shot.”

  “You don’t think they’ve gotten a clear shot yet?” Jack said. “It won’t happen.”

  “Come in, or go the hell home,” Dean said stubbornly. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

  Jack was about to call his bluff—in point of fact, he knew that it mattered very much to the man. Before he could say anything, Angie nodded amenably. “Sure. We’ll go inside. The lighting will be better in there, anyway.”

  She followed Dean through the front door without another word. Jack followed, silent, gut churning.

  The house was nothing like what he’d expected. Flowered draperies hung at the windows, a fire burning in the woodstove at the center of the room. Bear and Ren sat on a futon by the stove, the furniture covered with an intricately sewn quilt. There were pictures on the walls, and the smell of homemade stew filled the small space.

  “It’s nice here,” Angie said, obviously with the same surprise. “Whoever decorated has a real flair.”

  Dean nodded to Wendy. “My sister did all of it. Always had a good eye, a nice touch.”

  Wendy blushed slightly, looking away, but said nothing.

  “How did you find out about this place?” Angie asked. “And why set up camp here?”

&nbs
p; Dean nodded them toward a well-built kitchen table. Trevor surveyed the room to figure out the lighting, while Jack and Angie took seats next to one another. Dean sat across from them. Wendy remained standing.

  Dean launched into a diatribe about the government laying claim to his land in the past, and how he’d wanted to be as far as possible from humanity and all its trappings. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had the funds to get that far.

  “I saw the ad for this place and everything around it, and I knew what they were advertising was a doable price.”

  Angie nodded. Trevor continued to film them, while Jack took stock of their surroundings. The door to the outside remained open as per Jack’s stipulation. Bear and Ren were silent on the futon, their faces pale. Both looked shell shocked; they needed to get out of here soon.

  “So why make the decision to take these kids?” Angie asked, pulling Jack back to the interview. “You’ve lost family before—you know how painful that can be. Why inflict that on someone else?”

  Dean scowled. He sat erect at the table, shoulders back, but it looked like the posture was wearing on him.

  “These people don’t work unless they’ve got a stake in the game,” he said. “I can’t have them giving up now.”

  Angie glanced in Jack’s direction, a silent question in her gaze. Jack nodded, a barely perceptible movement. Keep pushing.

  “It seems like they’ve gotten the picture,” Angie said. “And I can tell you, everyone is taking this very seriously now—there are people searching all over this mountain. Maybe you should think about letting them go—“

  “Did you tell her to say that?” Dean demanded, looking at Jack. Jack shook his head but didn’t answer, taken aback. Dean got to his feet unsteadily. “You told her to say that, didn’t you? You brought her here to poison me—to kill me.” His voice rose with every word, becoming more and more unhinged. The other brother—Claude—appeared in the doorway, his own eyes wide.

  “Calm down,” Angie said smoothly, without a trace of fear. “I say what I want to say, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I don’t need anyone to tell me that what you’re doing is a pretty shitty idea, and everyone would be better off if you just let the kids go.”