Gone

by Karen Fenech

  He left the room to splash cold water on his face, then returned and fed another tape into the machine.

  This one was filmed in the same manner as the other, focused on the woman in them and the torture inflicted on her with only the white screen visible in the background. There was nothing to determine just where she was being held.

  Jake was watching the screen intently for a visual clue. Lowney’s voice was by turns excited, exuberant like a child at Christmas, and then petulant, condemning, shouting expletives at his victims.

  The man was ranting when Jake heard another sound. It was low, barely audible. A rumbling. At first Jake thought the noise was coming from the camera equipment or from the DVD player they were running. But, no. It went on for a short while and then was gone, and Lowney’s ranting returned in full volume.

  Jake moved away from the wall he’d been standing against. “Play that back, Stan.”

  Stan complied.

  “Listen to that.”

  Stan shook his head. “I can’t make it out.”

  Neither could Jake. He sighed in frustration.

  Jake took a seat beside Stan. The tape resumed. Lowney went on ranting. The bastard hadn’t returned to the house or been picked up elsewhere. Where are you?

  A member of the evidence team knocked on the open door. Stan hit pause, silencing Lowney.

  “We’re finished here,” the female agent said. “Good night.”

  Jake nodded. Stan started the tape again.

  With the evidence team gone, only Jake and Stan remained inside, and the house grew quiet but for the screams and moans of agony emanating from the tape. Two tapes later, Jake heard the rumbling again. It grew louder. Not rumbling—chugging.

  Jake leaned forward. “Listen. Hear that?” He was on his feet, moving quickly to the television. “Chug—a—chug—a.” he said. “A train. There’s only one train that runs through Farley.”

  “The freight train?” Stan said. “Sure.”

  Jake tapped the television screen. “It only runs through Edgar Road. Where the old mine is.”

  Was it possible that Lowney was there? Jake thought. The mine would have been dug before the mining commission of South Carolina had been formed. Still, there had to be a plan of the mine.

  Jake wheeled away from the screen and toward Stan. “Wake up whoever you have to. Get me a blueprint of that mine.”

  * * * * *

  A woozy county clerk provided a plan of the mine that had last been used eighty years earlier when the mine accident occurred. Jake had also requested a report of the accident. An engineer from Blane County was brought in to examine the plan.

  Jake shook hands with the two men. “Thank you both for coming in.”

  They were meeting in Jake’s office and the clerk spread the blueprint across Jake’s desk.

  “None of the shafts shown on the map still exist since its been filled in,” the clerk said, scratching his head.

  Jake studied the blueprint. The mine had been one mile deep and almost that long. It was unlikely that it had been completely filled in. More likely that the entrance had been buried and blocked and the shafts leading from it had gone on undisturbed.

  The boards to the entrance made it clear that Lowney was not entering the shafts from there. He had either found an air tunnel, or dug down and created a branch to a tunnel. It was the perfect hiding place.

  Jake’s gut clenched thinking how Lowney had gone undisturbed there for years.

  Jake turned to the engineer, Ralph Simpson. “Can you tell us where the cave-in caused by the accident occurred?”

  Simpson yawned hugely. He consulted the yellowed pages of the old accident report, then bent over the blueprint and placed his finger tip to a spot in the northeast section of the mine. “Somewhere in here is as near as I can tell from this report.”

  Those shafts no longer existed and Jake eliminated that section. Lowney had no need to attempt to forge a place for himself among the rubble of the accident. There were too many other locations for him to choose from.

  “I also have to point out,” Simpson added. “It’s been eighty years. We don’t know if there have been other cave-ins. It’s impossible to know what all is left down there.”

  “Thanks for your input,” Jake said to the men.

  Thirty minutes later, Jake, Stan, a squad of agents and the Farley PD, led by Ozzie Petty, walked the property on Edgar Road. Dogs were sent for, but they’d been used at a crime scene in another state and were two hours away. The clock was ticking, and Jake didn’t want to delay the search until the dogs arrived. Armed with flashlights, teams set off in appointed directions in search of a shaft that would lead into the mine.

  “Okay, Stan,” Jake said, his voice tight. “You’re with me.”

  * * * * *

  “Time to go, Clare.” Lowney grinned. “It will be light in a couple hours. Of course, you won’t be seeing that.”

  Clare watched his approach. Water dripped from her sopping hair into her eyes—eyes narrowed in hatred. She’d lost count of the number of times he’d dunked her, keeping her under water longer each time, her lungs burning with the need for air, holding her down until she stopped flailing, stopped resisting him, until she lost consciousness.

  Beth was curled in a fetal position, rocking. She hadn’t made a sound in a long time.

  Clare would have one chance to escape. One chance for her and Beth. But Clare’s limbs felt like lead weights. She couldn’t lift her head.

  The butt of a gun stuck out from Lowney’s pocket. Her gun, Clare realized. Her gaze flicked to it.

  Lowney laughed. “You know I can’t shoot you here, Clare.” He took the gun and aimed it at Beth. “I can shoot Beth, though. I can start with her little toe. That’s a new game for me and Beth to play.” He beamed. “Go on, Clare. Give me a reason to shoot Beth now.”

  The glee in his voice struck terror in Clare. One chance. One chance.

  Lowney now had a key in his hand. Clare’s vision was swimming in and out, and she hadn’t seen from where he’d obtained it. He bent and unlocked the shackle around Clare’s wrist. She had been laying on her stomach and her arm, stretched to its limit for several hours, had gone numb. Released now, it fell to the dirt.

  Lowney clenched his teeth. Impatient to get on with his plans, his fingers clamped on her shoulder. “Up, Clare.” He swung out with the gun barrel, striking Clare hard in the face. She felt the skin tear and blood pooled on her cheek.

  Clare filled her fist with dirt and rubble from the ground and as he began to haul her to her feet, she flung the dirt into Lowney’s eyes. Lowney dropped the gun. Clare grabbed it, and holding it in both hands, aimed at Lowney.

  He smirked, but maintained his distance.

  Keeping her gaze and her aim trained on him, Clare made her way slowly to her feet.

  “Beth. Beth! I need you to stay with me,” Clare said. “Please. Beth.”

  Beth raised her head.

  “Cover your face,” Clare said. “Do it now.” When Beth did, Clare shot the chain binding Beth to the post. “You’re free. Go. Take the flashlight on the table. Go. Get help.”

  Beth sobbed. Clare feared her sister was too weak and injured to leave on her own. But Beth staggered to her feet. She lurched, regained her balance and headed in the direction Lowney had emerged from.

  She disappeared into the darkness. And Clare breathed a short sigh of relief. Her grip wavered on the semi-automatic. Lowney swam in and out of her vision.

  “I am going to cut your heart out,” Lowney said.

  His gaze was unswerving. He didn’t blink. The venom in his eyes and in his words, spoken without inflection, made the fine hair on Clare’s arms and on the back of her neck rise.

  “Since I’m the one holding the gun, you should take care not to make me angry,” Clare said.

  Brave words.

  Her strength was ebbing fast. If she didn’t sit down, she would fall down. She needed to hold on a little longer. Had enough
time passed for Beth to have exited the shaft? Beth needed time to bring help. Clare didn’t know. Her sense of time was muddled.

  Her arm lowered fractionally. Her eyelids drooped.

  Lowney lunged for her. His hand closed over her gun hand and he turned the gun to her chest.

  * * * * *

  Jake kept his flashlight pointed at the ground as he trudged over the wild growth. He’d set a swift pace for himself and Stan. He could no longer see the other men and women who made up the search teams. On and on he walked, his gut getting tighter with each passing moment.

  There had to be an entrance to a mine shaft here somewhere. Jake prayed that in his desperation to find it, he hadn’t overlooked it.

  “Where the hell is Lowney hiding?” Stan muttered.

  Jake didn’t respond, just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Mosquitoes and other small insects hovered around the light as Jake swept the beam in small arcs.

  So far, he’d seen nothing but wild growth and a rabbit, but . . . what was that? Jake held the light steady and squinted. A square piece of wood . . .

  Stan came up behind him as Jake removed the wood. Beneath it was a hole . . . a narrow mine shaft.

  Heart pounding, Jake aimed the light into the shaft. A woman stood on a ladder, sobbing, her arms above her head as if she’d been pushing against the wooden cover in an attempt to move it, and failing.

  Her gaze met his and her eyes filled with terror. She stumbled back and if Jake hadn’t reached down and caught her shoulders, she would have fallen.

  “I’m a federal agent,” Jake said. “You’re safe now.”

  The woman looked like Clare and could only be her sister, Beth. His heart lurched at the resemblance. He dropped the flashlight by his feet and lifted Beth the two steps, bringing her out of the shaft. Her strength gave out and she fell against him. He set her gently on the ground. Her physical condition enraged him and terrified him since Clare was still down there with Lowney.

  “Beth, where’s Clare?” He clutched Beth by the shoulders. Her gaze was glazed. She was in shock. She was trembling in his grasp and he wasn’t sure he’d gotten through to her. He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her. “Beth. Beth, where is Clare?”

  Beth’s mouth quivered, her split lip began bleeding again. “Down there. Through the tunnel. It opens up into a shaft. She got me out.” Tears left tracks in her dirty and bloody face. “She stayed there so I could get out. You have to get her.” Beth clutched Jake’s arm in as fierce a grip as she was capable of. “You have to get her.”

  “I will.”

  Stan crouched beside them, and Jake released her into Stan’s care.

  Jake snatched up his flashlight from the ground. As he climbed onto the ladder, a gun shot rang out.

  For an instant, Jake thought his heart stopped, then adrenaline kicked in. As he raced down the ladder, he heard Stan yell for backup.

  Jake took out his weapon and ignoring procedure, ran through the shaft. He saw a light and with no further need of his flashlight, dropped it. He saw Lowney atop Clare. Her face was turned toward Jake and her eyes were closed.

  “Clare!”

  With his weapon aimed at Lowney, Jake ran to her. He jammed the barrel of his gun into the hollow at the back of Lowney’s neck and seized the man by the shoulder. Jake pulled him back from Clare. There was a hole in Lowney’s chest. His eyes were wide and staring. He was clearly dead.

  Jake flung Lowney off Clare. She was covered in blood. Jake dropped to his knees beside her, frantically feeling for a pulse.

  “Clare!”

  She opened her eyes. “Jake . . . ? Where’s Beth?”

  “She’s safe. She’s fine.” He moved his hands over her, desperate to find where she was hurt. “You’re bleeding. Don’t move, baby.”

  “Not my blood. Lowney’s,” Clare said, and lost consciousness.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The clock in the Burby living room showed one-oh-six in the afternoon. Clare sighed. Time to leave.

  “Gotta go?” Beth asked.

  “Afraid so.”

  Beth nodded. “I’ll walk you out.”

  At the front door, Clare turned and hugged Beth, holding her tight. Beth’s grip was as strong and they stood like that, holding each other, until the clock chimed the quarter hour.

  “Now I really have to go,” Clare said.

  They both laughed and then Clare stepped onto the porch. The Burbys’ yellow lab snoozed in his usual position, head on forepaws. His eyelids opened a crack as Clare turned and waved to Beth before she closed the door.

  After spending one week in a hospital in Columbia, Beth had gone to stay with the Burbys. Patty and Beth had renewed their friendship, and Patty had opened her home to her friend. Clare had spent most of her time in the week since Beth’s release at the Burby house as well, getting to know her sister.

  Her sister. As they always did lately, those words brought on a smile.

  Beth had not rejected the notion of a sister. Beth had not rejected Clare. Even when Clare had told her where they’d come from, Beth had not turned her away and every day, Clare could feel the bond between them growing stronger.

  She opened the door to her rental car, then took a step back from the heat emanating from the inside. In five minutes or fifty, the car would still be hot, and just got inside.

  She drove slowly away from the Burbys. She had a plane to catch back to New York, but first she had one stop to make.

  Jake’s house came into view. He was on a ladder, painting another section of the eaves trough. Clare remembered that he’d first abandoned the task on the day they’d gone to view a body they’d feared had been Beth.

  He looked away from the eaves trough as she pulled into his driveway. He continued to watch her as she left the car and made her way to the hood where she leaned back against it.

  His eyes narrowed on her. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay.”

  Clare had spent three nights in a hospital herself. A look in the mirror that morning had shown her an assortment of cuts and bruises. Lowney had damaged her ankle again when he’d stomped on it and she’d be using the crutch for some time to come.

  Her first night in the hospital, as she’d drifted in and out of consciousness, she’d opened her eyes and saw Jake. She’d jerked awake several times that night, fighting pain and fear, and each time she opened her eyes, Jake had been there, holding her hand, murmuring that she was safe.

  “How’s Beth?” Jake asked.

  Clare smiled. “Mother-to-be and her unborn child are doing well.”

  Jake nodded. “I’m glad.”

  A group of neighborhood children ran down the sidewalk, in pursuit of a long-haired white dog. Clare frowned as the breeze carried the dog’s scent. By the smell of him, the animal had recently met up with a skunk.

  Clare pushed back the cream-colored jacket she wore and jammed her hands into the front pockets of matching walking shorts. “I came by to tell you I’m going back to New York.”