Page 53 of Love Me Fierce

His slate-blue eyes darken with concern. “You okay?”

Shit. The last thing I want is my coworker thinking I’ve got some kind of complex.

“All good.” Forcing my fears back with a deep breath, I step into the harness, then follow Hutch’s instructions on how to tighten the buckle and the leg straps so they’re snug.

“When I’m at that first ledge, I’ll call up to you.” He walks me and Zach through the rappelling steps one more time.

“Got it,” I say. The technique isn’t difficult. It just requires a certain level of faith, of which I have very little. Then we have the true source of my fear. Even though I don’t remember it well, my nervous system does.

Hutch puts his braking device onto the ropes, double checks all of his systems, then turns on his body cam and ducks through the mine’s small oval opening.

A gust of wind ruffles the stunted grass poking up between the rocks. It’s only October, but these slow-building storm clouds have the distinct look of winter.

“First ledge!” Hutch calls from inside the mine.

I turn on my body cam then repeat the steps Hutch showed meto get onto the rope, then tighten my backpack straps and check everything off with Zach. “You’re solid,” he says, and taps my helmet.

I step into the mine, checking that the ropes don’t get tangled or caught up on something, then turn on my headlamp.

“On rappel!” I call down to Hutch so he knows to stay clear in case I kick something loose on my way down.

The narrow ledge drops away into darkness behind me. To my left is a rusty, twisted steel ladder that the original miners must have installed. The sides of the mine shaft sparkle in the beam of my headlight, a sign of the minerals they were after.

At the edge of the drop-off, I lean back on the rope. I know it’ll hold me, and nothing is going to go wrong, but my breaths are coming faster and my heart taps painfully against my ribs. I huff a firm breath and force my feet to walk backwards, down the wall of the mine shaft. A dry, earthy scent fills my nostrils as I descend, and out of the wind down here, it’s warmer. A few pebbles kick loose and fall away. I lose their echo over the wheezing of my breaths. The rock face I’m walking down backwards is rough and blocky, with decent footholds, but I’m still so relieved when I reach the ledge where Hutch is waiting that I could kiss him.

The ledge is about the size of my kitchen counter, and dusty, with pebbles and chunks of fallen rock collected here over the decades. I glance over my shoulder to where the mine shaft slopes into an abyss. Water is trickling from somewhere, and though it’s warmer down here, gooseflesh ripples up my arms and down my spine.

“This is where you found her?” I ask Hutch.

“There.” He points his light to the far side of the ledge, against the left wall.

Though I’ve studied the pictures our crime scene team collected after we removed Michelle’s bones, they don’t record the echo of the dripping water or the crunch of debris beneath my boots or the thick darkness pressing at the edges of my vision.

I loosen the ropes and squat down so we can get to work searching the shelf.

Michelle Swanson was twenty-three when she went missing from the nearby town of Cascade. She had graduated from Western the year before with a degree in Environmental Science and was in her first year of a job she was excited about, monitoring groundwater. That day, she had attended a rally with thousands of others protesting the transportation of hazardous materials via rail through the Bannock Valley further north. The protest was peaceful, with no arrests, but it slowed our investigation down because she wasn’t reported missing until the following Monday. By then, her trail had gone cold.

“Did any of the other victims have a necklace?” Hutch asks as we sift through the grit, turning over the fallen rock and pebbles.

“No.”

“So, if we don’t find one here, that you’ve got two different murder victims with a key pendant necklace is just a weird coincidence?” He grunts. “I thought you didn’t believe in those.”

“I don’t.” Teresa’sshe says you got the wrong guyrifles through my thoughts. “But as far as evidence goes, it’s inconclusive.”

“It’s been five years. Could the necklace have disintegrated by now?”

“Probably depends on what it’s made of. Pure gold would last, but a cheap one of brass or aluminum would tarnish.”

We reach the end of the ledge without finding anything resembling a necklace. The crime scene techs who recovered Michelle’s remains last year likely searched every nook and cranny, but a second look for something specific will cover our bases.

I stand, brushing my dusty hands against my thighs.

Hutch glances over his shoulder at the abyss. “The bottom’s another thirty feet or so. You okay with that?”

I glance up the shaft, but the oval portal leading to the surface isn’t visible this far down. “How are we getting out of here again?”

“With the gear I showed you, remember? It’s like climbing a ladder.”

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