CHAPTER 14
It was getting cold. Wyatt didn't know if that was because his surroundings were actually growing colder, or if it was sheer, icy terror.
There was certainly that. He was far, far beyond the point of being able to dampen or ignore it.
His wrists were raw, his body sore from his attempts to free himself from the guillotine, and he was just as securely fastened as he had been hours ago. Too many hours ago.
There was only half an hour left. Twenty-nine minutes and thirty-odd seconds to go. Jesus.
It wasn't enough time. Not enough time to reconcile himself to death. Not enough time to make peace with himself, to think about all the guilts and regrets of his life. Not enough time for what-might-have-beens or what-ifs. It was over.
Just… over.
And there wasn't a single goddamned thing he could do about it.
With that realization, that certainty, Wyatt accepted what was going to happen to him. For the first time, he relaxed, his body going boneless, and his mind was curiously quiet, almost at peace. He heard his own voice speaking aloud and was a little amused by the conversational tone of it.
"Always wondered how I'd face death. Now I know. Not with a bang or a whimper, but just… resignation." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Lindsay. You'd probably be disappointed in me, wouldn't you? I bet you were never resigned. I bet you fought with your last breath, didn't you, baby? I know you didn't want to die. I know you didn't want to leave me."
"They're coming."
Wyatt blinked and stared up at the blade suspended over him. He could have sworn he'd heard her voice, though whether in his head or out loud he couldn't have said. "I guess a dying man hears what he wants to hear."
"Idiot. They're coming. Just a few more minutes."
He frowned slightly, and said, "I don't think my own imagination would call me an idiot. Although-"
"Just hold on."
"Lindsay? Is that you?"
Silence.
"Didn't think so. I don't believe in ghosts. Don't think I even believe in heaven, though it would be nice to believe you were waiting for me somewhere beyond this life."
"Don't be maudlin."
Wyatt found himself grinning. "Now, that sounds like my Lindsay. Come to keep me company in my final moments, baby?"
"You aren't going to die. Not now."
Deciding he was probably just quietly hysterical rather than being as calm as he'd thought, Wyatt said, "Twenty minutes left on the clock, babe. And I don't hear the cavalry."
He didn't hear her voice again either, though he did try to listen for it. And hoped for it. Because there were, he thought, worse things to take into death than the voice of the woman he loved.
When Lucas stopped suddenly, it caught Caitlin off guard. She leaned against an oak tree, trying to get her ragged breathing under control, and stared at the two just a couple of yards ahead of her. Her legs felt like rubber, there was a stitch in her side, and she couldn't remember ever being this weary.
They had finally reached the top of the ridge they had spent more than two hours climbing and from this position could see across a fairly level clearing to where the mountain again began rising steeply upward.
Caitlin stared up at that vast, looming shape and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't go on. Not up that… thing. She was just about to gather the breath to tell the others, when she heard Samantha speak.
"Luke? What is it?" She sounded remarkably calm and not the least bit breathless.
"He's not afraid anymore."
Samantha frowned up at him. "But you can still feel him?"
"Yeah. But he's calm. Not afraid anymore."
Glen looked at his watch and said desperately, "We've got less than fifteen minutes. Where is he?"
Lucas turned his head and looked briefly at the deputy, frowning, then began moving forward again, faster. "Over there. The mine."
"There's a mine up here?" Glen sounded surprised, but then followed that question with a disgusted, "Oh, Christ, I forgot all about the old mine on Six Point Creek. It closed down when my grandfather was a kid."
Caitlin, somehow finding the strength to hurry along with the others, was about to ask where the creek was when she nearly fell into it. Swearing under her breath, she followed the others as they jumped from rock to rock to cross the twenty-foot-wide, fairly shallow stream.
The entrance to the mine lay nearly hidden behind what looked like a thicket of honeysuckle, and all Caitlin could think was that it had to be really, really dark in there.
Glen paused long enough to shrug out of the backpack he'd grabbed from the ATV, and quickly handed out big police flashlights. He started to draw his weapon, but Lucas spoke, his voice certain.
"Nobody's here except Wyatt. At least…"
Hesitating with a hand on his gun, Glen said, "At least what? Has he booby-trapped the place?"
Lucas seemed to be listening, and after a brief moment, he turned on his flashlight and shoved the tangle of vines aside to enter the mine. "No. No trap. Let's go."
The mine shaft was fairly clear of debris and angled slightly upward into the mountain, with plenty of room for them all to move freely. They traveled probably sixty or eighty feet in a straight line, and then the shaft turned sharply to the right-and widened considerably into a sort of cavern.
They saw the light then, bright and harsh and focused on the deadly, eerie guillotine and its captive.
Both Glen and Lucas, cops acting on instinct, rushed forward. Caitlin leaned a hand against the damp wall, feeling decidedly weak with relief-because that gleaming blade was still suspended above Wyatt. Still, she didn't think she breathed normally until she was certain that Glen held the cable so that the blade remained securely up while Lucas was unfastening the straps holding the sheriff prisoner.
She looked to the side then and saw that Samantha also had paused for a moment. There was just enough light for her to see the other woman lift a shaking hand briefly to her face, and then Samantha was moving forward and speaking calmly.
"Can I help?"
Lucas was easing up the wooden block pinning Wyatt's neck to the table, and said, "Got it, I think. Wyatt-"
The sheriff lost no time in sitting up, removing himself from harm's way. He slid to the edge of the table so that he was sitting on it. He was pale and haggard, but there was also a peculiar peace in his face. "The cavalry did come," he said, only a slight quiver in his voice. "How about that."
Then he turned his head, and they all followed his gaze to watch the nearby clock's digital readout counting relentlessly down. Nobody said a word as the last two minutes on the timer ran out-and Glen found himself suddenly supporting the weight of the heavy steel blade as a soft click announced the release of the cable. He carefully eased the blade down until it rested in the stained groove of the table.
"Shit," Wyatt said in a wondering voice. "I thought I was a dead man."
"You almost were," Lucas said. He went to study the clock, which was actually attached to a metal rod hanging downward from the lighting. "And the bastard really wanted you to know it, didn't he?"
"I'll never look at a clock the same way again." Wyatt frowned slightly as first Samantha and then Caitlin entered the circle of bright light. "Hey. Where the hell are we, anyway?"
"The old Six Point Creek mine," Glen told him, sounding considerably relieved. "And if you'll all excuse me, I need to get out of here so I can radio the other search teams. Assuming I can get a signal out here, that is." He hurried away.
Still eyeing the women, Wyatt said, "What are you two doing here?"
Lucas immediately said, "If it hadn't been for them, we would never have found you in time."
"Yeah? Did Lindsay talk to one of you?"
They all looked at him in surprise, and it was Caitlin who said somewhat hesitantly, "She talked to me. Sort of. Left me a note."
"Which pointed us in this direction," Samantha said. "After that, it was Luke connecting to you that got us here."