Cold Case Connection. Dana Mentink
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him to see someone out in the paddock saddling a horse. Even in the dim light he recognized Helen’s slim figure, though her hair was down instead of twisted into its normal chignon, and she wore jeans and a warm jacket.
He rechecked the time to see if he’d been mistaken. Not even sunup and she was heading out on a ride? That seemed odd, especially when she’d spoken about a large group checking in. Letting himself out of the cabin he approached quietly, coming close enough that he could hear her murmuring sweetly to the horse.
“Early morning ride?”
She jumped and squealed, one hand on the reins, the other over her heart. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Just wondered where you were going so early.”
She cocked her head, the moonlight bathing her skin in pearl. “Just out for some air.”
“Where?”
She didn’t answer for a moment. “Is that your business?”
“Nope, but I’m wondering anyway. Fiona always said I was nosy.”
A flicker of a smile crossed her lips. “I wanted to see something, is all.”
“What?”
“Your sister was right, you are nosy.” She huffed out a breath which misted in the cold. “The tunnels. Fiona asked me what I remembered about...about the night Trish died. We’d planned to ride out there, were going to talk about it at coffee but...” She broke off.
“You didn’t because she was killed.”
Helen’s mouth trembled, or perhaps it was the trick of the moonlight. He shifted. “So you’re going to ride out there to see if anything comes back to you?”
“Basically, yes.”
“All by yourself?”
“I have to be back here in a few hours. It’s now or never.”
“I’ll go with you.” He strode toward the tack shed and helped himself to a saddle, outfitting the big gelding that he figured could handle his six foot two easily enough.
“I don’t...”
“Want me to go?” He climbed into the saddle. “Going to follow you one way or the other so we might as well get at it.”
“This is a waste of time. There’s nothing there in those tunnels after all these years.”
“If my sister was interested, it’s not a waste of time. Let’s go. You’ve got a group of cattlemen to check in, remember?”
Helen climbed easily into the saddle, though she looked anything but calm. They set off at a brisk pace, and he followed her lead. She obviously knew the area well and she was an excellent horsewoman, adjusting smoothly to the mare’s movements. The trail bisected the lodge property until it pitched sharply upward, the ground becoming rocky and thick with oak and eucalyptus. In spite of the circumstances, he found himself enjoying the ride, the joy of being outside, moving freely, and, though he didn’t want to admit it, a break from the constant worry over a certain pair of adorable twin girls. The farther they progressed under the dripping trees, the more the tense coil inside him began to relax.
When they emerged at a granite outcropping, he glimpsed the sea in the distance, waves glimmering pewter in the predawn hours. He soaked in the wide expanse of God-breathed beauty.
“There,” she said, interrupting his thoughts, pointing to a hillock he hadn’t even noticed. It was peppered with hunks of granite but when he looked closer he could detect the outline of an opening, bordered in rotting wood. A sign that said Danger, Keep Out was wired to a sturdy metal grate.
“The perfect high school hangout,” Sergio said. He wished he hadn’t, when he caught the stark emotion on her face. This wasn’t a place she wanted to come; it was a place where her childhood innocence had died along with her friend. “Uh, sorry. Bad joke.” Really bad.
She didn’t reply as they tied the horses to a limb and crossed the wet grass. Still silent, he thought she wouldn’t speak at all until she shivered, her words sounding hollow, as if she’d been sucked back into that long-ago day.
“It was all supposed to be such fun. The abandoned tunnels were the coolest place to explore. They were originally used to haul ore from the mines down to the docks and onto the waiting ships. We’d looked around a bit before, but that night, we were going to have a competition, to see who could find their way out and meet up again by midnight.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It was just a silly game.”
“You and Fiona, Gavin and Justin, and Trish.”
Helen nodded. “It was going to be a fun night. Trish had gone out on a few dates with Gavin, and we thought he was going to ask her to prom in the tunnels. Trish told us she’d seen a brochure for a tuxedo place in his backpack.”
“And Justin? Did he have a girlfriend? Fiona? You maybe?”
She blushed and shook her head. “We were just friends. Justin was always the cutup, the funny guy. He liked Trish, too, but he didn’t pursue her.”
“That you know of.”
“Yes.” Her mind was far away, back in those tunnels. She was shivering in earnest now, and he’d started to shrug off his jacket to drape it over her when a motor rumbled through the night. They whirled to see a light bearing down on them from the hilltop, a man on some sort of vehicle.
“Sergio...” Helen started. She’d not gotten the next word out before a spray of bullets erupted around them.
Helen could not process what was happening. Her ears throbbed from the sound of the shots and she was all over goose bumps. Sergio grabbed her hand and pulled her down behind a screen of bushes.
“Stay low as you can get,” he whispered.
“Did someone just shoot at us?”
Sergio wasn’t listening, instead peering through the branches. “The guy on an ATV that just rolled up.” He took out his cell phone and growled. “No service.” He took a picture of the approaching man.
Helen saw through the branches that the man, short, with a mop of curly hair, was getting off his vehicle, gun held ready, walking warily toward the place where she and Sergio crouched.
He murmured in her ear. “I’m going to buy some time. Get away from here. Too risky to go for the horses so run back toward the road if you can.”
“Sergio...” she started, but he stood up and strode out of the bushes.
Run to the road like he told her? But she could not leave him to be killed. Her imagination ran wild for a moment, picturing another funeral, another loss for Fiona’s twin girls. She could not, would not, be responsible for causing the children another moment of pain. She stood instead, creeping out after him.
Sergio was standing with his palms up, facing the man who now held a rifle trained on him. When she drew nearer, Sergio shot her a look of pure anger, a vein in his jaw pulsing.
She didn’t look at him, beaming all her outrage on the guy in front of her. “What do you think you’re doing firing on us? This is public land.”
The shooter stared at her. “Tunnels are dangerous. I help the police keep an eye out for kids.”
“Farraday?” Sergio’s mouth pinched. “So you’re telling me the police chief gives you permission to shoot at people?”
He shrugged. “Ah, don’t be melodramatic. I wasn’t anywhere near hitting you.”
“Near enough,” Sergio spat.
The man shrugged.
“Your