“Eli Reed was twenty-two.”
“Dad was ten years older.”
“Eli could fix almost anything mechanical, but he hated mines.”
“After our grandfather died, Eli took odd jobs instead.”
“Then that summer he became obsessed with these woods.”
“Why?”
“He believed there was an old survey chamber underground.”
“What was in it?”
“No one knew.”
“Old records, maybe.”
“Equipment.”
“Eli liked forgotten places.”
Noah rubbed his hands together.
“The day he disappeared, he left a note saying he was going to Cedar Hollow.”
“Dad found it that evening.”
“So Caleb brought my father here.”
“Yes.”
“And they got trapped.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to Eli?”
“We never knew.”
Anna frowned.
“But your father said Eli might be inside.”
“He thought so.”
“Then after he and Thomas escaped, my father went back to search for him.”
Noah nodded.
“With Caleb.”
“Only Caleb came out.”
“Yes.”
Anna looked toward the workers.
“Then there may be two people down there.”
Noah’s face tightened.
“My father believed so.”
By afternoon, the inspectors reached the passage marked on the map.
No one entered the deeper chamber until additional supports were installed.
The waiting became its own kind of trial.
Anna called her sister in Ohio and told her enough to explain what was happening.
She did not tell her everything.
Not yet.
Some truths needed to be understood before they were repeated.
Lily collected smooth stones near the shelter and arranged them from smallest to largest.
Colter watched her for a while.
“Making something?”
“A road.”
“To where?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s a familiar kind of road.”
Lily studied him.
“Do you have kids?”
“One daughter.”
“How old?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“That’s old.”
Colter smiled.
“I’ll let her know.”
“Does she ride motorcycles?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Good question.”
“Did you teach her?”
“I tried.”
“She hated it.”
“Did she fall?”
“No.”
“Then why did she hate it?”
Colter paused.
“Maybe because it was mine.”
Lily looked confused.
Colter smiled.
“Children eventually want things that belong to themselves.”
“My mom says I can’t have a phone until I’m older.”
“That may be the wisest thing I’ve heard all day.”
Lily returned to her stones.
Colter stepped away and took out his own phone.
He stared at his daughter’s name.
MAE.
Their last conversation had been twelve days earlier.
Friendly.
Brief.
Careful.
They had become experts at careful conversations after her mother died.
Neither wanted to mention grief.
So neither mentioned much of anything important.
He typed a message.
Saw a little girl today who reminded me that being scared and being brave can happen at the same time.
He deleted it.
He tried again.
Thinking about you.
Deleted that too.
Finally he wrote two words.
Love you.
He sent them before he could reconsider.
The reply came less than a minute later.
Love you too, Dad.
And beneath it:
You okay?
Colter stared at those words for a long time.
Then he typed:
Not sure yet.
Can I call tonight?
Mae answered:
Please do.
Colter slipped the phone away.
There were secrets people kept because they feared the truth would destroy a relationship.
Sometimes the silence did more damage than the truth ever could.
Near sunset, Harriet came out of the mine passage.
Anna knew something had happened before the woman spoke.
“What did you find?”
“A chamber.”
“The second room?”
“Yes.”
“Was anyone inside?”
Harriet hesitated.
“We found personal effects.”
Anna gripped the arms of her chair.
“Human remains?”
“We have not confirmed anything yet.”
Noah closed his eyes.
Harriet crouched in front of them.
“But we found two hard hats.”
“One is marked Mercer.”
Noah whispered, “And the other?”
“Reed.”
Anna looked toward Noah.