Page 43 of A Rebel's Shot

“Are you Dr. Erikson?” she asked, her words coming out in a breathless whisper.

He nodded, his eyes darting around the room as ifsearching for hidden dangers. “Yes, I’m Dr. Erikson. I’m sorry for the abrupt introduction, but we can’t talk here.”

Dr. Erikson’s obvious agitation did little to calm Merritt’s frayed nerves. She watched as he ran a trembling hand through his unkempt hair, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

“Follow me,” he said without checking if she followed. “There’s something you need to see.”

He led her toward the back of the building, his footsteps echoing off the metal walls. Merritt’s hands slicked with sweat as they approached a sloping tunnel that led underground. The darkness seemed to reach out and grab her, pulling her into its depths.

Each step on the metal flooring sent a shiver down her spine, the sound reverberating through the narrow passage. Merritt’s anxiety began to creep up again, its icy fingers wrapping around her throat and squeezing the air from her lungs.

She tried to focus on her breathing. But as they descended deeper into the earth, the walls pressed down on her, threatening to crush her beneath its suffocating embrace.

Merritt’s mind raced with possibilities, each more terrifying than the last.

What if this was a trap?

What if Dr. Erikson was leading her down the tunnel of doom because it would be easy to hide her body?

She shook her head, trying to banish the dark thoughts that swirled in her mind.

As they walked deeper into the tunnel and metalturned to packed dirt, Dr. Erikson’s voice broke through the silence. “This is one of our research facilities. We study how underground mining affects the flora and fauna topside.”

Merritt listened intently, her anxiety slowly lessening with each step. Dr. Erikson’s passion for his work was evident in the way he spoke, his hands gesturing animatedly as he described the various tunnels that branched off from the main one and the studies they conducted.

“Unfortunately, budget cuts have forced us to suspend our research this summer,” he said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. “Guess the idiocy of the financial department worked in my favor for once. After I saw the news about your father’s plane crash, I knew I had to stay here. It was the only place I felt safe.”

Merritt’s heart clenched at the mention of her father, the pain of his loss still raw and fresh. She swallowed hard, trying to push down her grief.

“You think my father’s death wasn’t an accident?” she asked, her voice loud in the silent tunnel.

Dr. Erikson stopped walking and turned to face her, his eyes intense and serious. “I know all about cover-ups, Merritt. I’ve seen it happen before.”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you ever watchedThe Conspiracy Files? That show opened my eyes to the truth behind so many so-called accidents and coincidences.”

Merritt’s mind raced as she tried to process Dr. Erikson’s words. Could her father’s death really have been acover-up or was this man a nut? The thought made her stomach churn, bile rising in the back of her throat.

She looked at Dr. Erikson, searching his face for any sign of deception or madness. But all she saw was a man who genuinely believed what he was saying, a man who had been willing to risk his life to uncover the truth.

“What do you think happened to my father?” Her voice trembled slightly.

Dr. Erikson’s expression grew somber, his eyes filled with sympathy. “I think someone didn’t want him to meet with me. Someone who had something to hide.”

Merritt’s pulse rushed in her ears as the implications of Dr. Erikson’s words sank in. If he was right, then her father’s death was no accident.

It was murder.

And she would find out who was responsible.

Dr. Erikson led Merritt into a small office, the space as disheveled as the man himself.

Papers and books were strewn everywhere, covering every available surface in a chaotic mess. The air was thick with the musty scent of old paper and dust, and Merritt had to navigate carefully to avoid stepping on the piles that littered the floor.

Erikson rummaged through one particularly precarious stack, muttering to himself as he searched for something specific. After a moment, he pulled out a sheaf of papers, his eyes lighting up with triumph.

“Here,” he said, thrusting the papers into Merritt’s hands. “This is what your father and I were supposed to discuss.”

Merritt’s heart raced as she scanned the documents,her eyes widening with each line she read. The papers detailed the potential for AMD at the mine site, and the numbers were far worse than anything she’d seen in the official reports.

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