He had stamped a tiny letter H into the back.
Wyatt remembered Hannah wearing it every day.
Even in the river.
Even after everyone believed she had died.
Lucy twisted the star.
A narrow brass pin slid from its center.
“Mom said this opens the lock.”
Wyatt seized it.
The padlock was old, heavy, and corroded.
His fingers trembled as he inserted the pin.
Behind the tower, Rourke shouted orders.
Voss cursed while struggling to his feet.
The younger man yelled that the horse was going to kill someone.
Wyatt turned the pin.
Nothing.
Again.
The lock resisted.
“Please,” Lucy sobbed.
Wyatt pressed harder.
A faint click sounded.
The shackle sprang open.
Lucy was free.
He pulled the chain away from her ankle.
“Can you stand?”
She tried.
Her legs collapsed.
Wyatt caught her.
He was exhausted, dehydrated, and fifty-eight years old.
But he lifted the child as though she weighed nothing.
Memphis moved beside him.
“Good boy,” Wyatt whispered. “One more time.”
The horse lowered himself slightly.
Wyatt pushed Lucy onto his back.
“Hold his mane.”
She obeyed.
Wyatt slapped the horse’s flank.
“Go home, Memphis!”
But Memphis didn’t move.
Instead, he turned his head toward the abandoned mine.
His ears stood straight.
From somewhere inside the mountain came a faint sound.
Three metallic knocks.
Then silence.
Wyatt froze.
The sound came again.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Lucy began crying harder.
“That’s Mama.”
Wyatt stared toward the black tunnel entrance.
Rourke appeared around the tower.
His rifle was raised.
“Get away from there!”
Wyatt understood suddenly.
The child wasn’t the only prisoner.
Hannah was still alive. And she was somewhere inside the mine.
Voss charged toward them.
Memphis reacted first.
The horse spun, sending his powerful hindquarters toward the attacker.
Voss jumped aside, but his boot caught beneath a rusted cable.
He fell heavily.
Wyatt seized the iron bar lying nearby.
Rourke aimed.
Then the younger man shouted, “Sheriff, wait! The fuel!”
A rusted generator beside the shed was leaking diesel into the dirt.
The sheriff hesitated.
That instant was enough.
Wyatt struck the rifle barrel with the iron bar.
The shot went wide.
He drove his shoulder into Rourke’s chest.
Both men fell.
Pain exploded through Wyatt’s knee.
Rourke punched him across the jaw.
Wyatt tasted blood.
“You stupid old fool!” the sheriff snarled.
Wyatt grabbed a fistful of the man’s uniform.
“Where is my sister?”
Rourke slammed his elbow into Wyatt’s throat.
“She’s where she belongs!”
Wyatt couldn’t breathe.
His vision blurred.
Then a shadow moved above them.
Memphis.
The stallion lunged forward and seized Rourke’s shirt between his teeth.
With one savage jerk, he dragged the sheriff away.
Rourke screamed.
Wyatt rolled aside, gasping.
The younger man stood frozen.
Voss was struggling to free his trapped foot.
Wyatt snatched the fallen rifle and pointed it toward the sheriff.
“Don’t move.”
Rourke stopped.
For a moment, only the wind spoke.
Then Wyatt turned to the younger man.
“What’s your name?”
“E-Eli.”
“Eli, if there’s one decent bone left in your body, help me get that woman out.”
Eli stared at Rourke.
The sheriff’s face changed.
“Don’t you dare.”
Eli swallowed.
Then whispered, “There’s something you need to know.”
Chapter Four: The Woman Beneath the Mountain
Eli’s full name was Elijah Price.
He was twenty-three years old and had worked for the sheriff’s private security company for six months.
He had been told the mine was being used to store confiscated property.
He had believed it.
Until he saw Lucy.
Until he heard the woman screaming behind the locked underground door.
“They told me she was dangerous,” Eli whispered.
Wyatt kept the rifle trained on Rourke.
“Where is she?”
“Lower tunnel. Behind the old ore elevator.”
“How far?”
“Maybe four hundred yards.”
“Is she alive?”
Eli nodded.
“She was this morning.”
Wyatt felt his chest tighten.
He wanted to run.
Instead, he looked at Lucy.
She sat on Memphis, shaking uncontrollably.
“Listen carefully, sweetheart. I’m going to find your mama.”
Her fingers tightened in the horse’s mane.
“Don’t leave me.”
Wyatt approached her.
“I won’t. Not really.”
He touched Memphis’s forehead.
“This old boy is going to take care of you.”
Lucy shook her head.
“He won’t leave.”
Wyatt knew she was right.
The horse had already proved that.
He looked at Eli.
“Can you drive?”
“Yes.”
“Then take that truck and get the child to the highway. Find state police. Not the county sheriff’s office. State police.”
Rourke laughed.
“You think anyone will believe him?”
Wyatt ignored him.
Eli hesitated.
“What about you?”
Wyatt glanced toward the mine.
“I’m bringing my sister home.”
Rourke’s laughter stopped.
“Wyatt, you don’t understand what you’re walking into.”
“Then explain it.”
The sheriff looked toward the tunnel.
For the first time, Wyatt saw something like fear.
Not fear of punishment.
Fear of what might be found.
“There are things buried in that mountain,” Rourke said quietly, “that should never see daylight.”
Wyatt stepped closer.
“My sister isn’t a thing.”
Rourke lowered his gaze.
“No,” he whispered. “She certainly isn’t.”
Wyatt bound the sheriff’s wrists with a length of chain and secured him to the derrick.
He did the same with Voss, whose ankle was badly injured.
Then he handed Eli the truck keys.
Eli lifted Lucy down from Memphis.
