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She took the sack and held it to her nose, catching the warm scent of the rosemary Mrs. Crain used in her pastry. “Mmm. Thanks, Mrs. C., but this won’t make it to my backpack. I’ll have to gobble it up while it’s hot.” She lifted her coffee in salute as she backed out the door of the little bakery.
“White beans and corn bread if you’re back in time for lunch,” Mrs. Crain called as the door closed.
Kyndal climbed in the Jeep that was still running and flipped the heater off. She’d just wanted to take the chill off the October morning, but the coffee coupled with the down vest and thermal top left her toasty.
She shrugged out of the vest as she pulled from the parking lot onto The Trace, the road which cut through the heart of the Land Between the Lakes. The sleepy little Tennessee burg of Dover was ideally located five miles east of the southern entrance to the LBL. What better location for a photographer than a two-hundred-and-sixty-square-mile stretch of government wildlife preserve almost literally at her back door? With Kentucky and Barkley Lakes as its western and eastern boundaries, the LBL was an outdoorsman’s paradise.
She munched on the free quiche as she debated whether or not to spend the five bucks to drive through the Elk and Bison Prairie. Twenty-three dollars was all she had left of this week’s budget, but that should be enough if Mom didn’t call again needing to borrow some.
Twenty miles into the LBL, she threw a kiss at the sign telling her she was in Kentucky. By the time she reached the entrance of the prairie, she’d convinced herself it was not only worth the price but a necessity. How many photographers east of the Mississippi got a chance to shoot elk—and the chance to visit with her favorite ranger—for the bargain price of five dollars?
Rick Warren’s tall form, silhouetted against the early morning sun, brought a smile to her lips. A former marine, he still had that military look: straight posture, broad squared shoulders, blond crew cut…and a gentleman in every way.
Jaci saw it as an omen her husband’s friend from college had taken a job in western Kentucky. She was convinced Rick and Kyndal were a perfect match and had been relentlessly trying to hook them up.
Not that Kyndal would mind a hook-up with the handsome ranger. Under the guise of photographer, she’d become a regular on the hikes he led—The Snake Crawl, The Night Prowl, The Eagle Watch—but it wasn’t until The Owl Outing two weeks ago that she’d been certain he was interested in her…or anything other than deer droppings.
As the only person to show up in the drizzle, she’d shared two hours alone with the hot, but very mannerly, ranger. The evening had been quite chaste, but she and Jaci held out hope. Rick Warren definitely had potential—if she could break through that reserved exterior.
Rick’s smile spread as she approached the guardhouse and rolled her window down. The cool air brought a rosy glow to his cheeks, lending him an additional boyish charm.
“Morning, Ms. Rawlings.” His strong drawl warmed her twice as fast as the coffee had.
“Morning, Ranger Rick.” She watched his dimples deepen at the nickname.
He glanced at his watch. “You’re out early on a Saturday morning.”
“Living in Dover doesn’t give much reason to be out late on Friday night.” She shrugged and gave an overly dramatic sigh. “Getting up early on Saturday’s not too difficult.”
“I know what you mean. In Camden, they roll the sidewalks up at nine.”
Kyndal laughed. “At least Camden’s got sidewalks.”
Rick wiggled his eyebrows a couple of times as his blue-green eyes held hers. “I hear Clarksville leaves its sidewalks out all night on Saturday. Maybe we should have dinner together and check it out.”
“Why, Ranger Rick.” Kyndal tilted her head in question. “That sounds like you’re asking me out on a date.”
“Well, it’s only a date if you accept. If you decline, it was a humiliating attempt at humor.” He coughed, an awkward little sound that sent white puffs of breath into the morning air, and the color of his cheeks intensified.
Kyndal squinted, trying to look serious. “You know, Rick. In spite of our mutual friends and all those hikes we’ve been on, I hardly know you. You’re not an axe murderer, are you?”
“No, ma’am.” He shook his head.
“In that case, I accept. And it’s about time.”
His shoulders dropped into a more relaxed position. When he tipped his broad-brimmed hat back, she noticed the faint wisp of sweat on his brow. “The department’s got two more weeks of Saturday night Ghosts and Goblins Tours, so I won’t be free until November. Can I call you then?”
Kyndal fished her wallet out of her purse and found the stash of business cards tucked in the side pocket. “I didn’t make it into the phone book, so here’s my number.” She handed it to him, along with the five-dollar entrance fee. “I’ll look forward to dinner.”
He tucked the card into his shirt pocket but shook his head at the money. “Accepting a date with a ranger should have some perks.” He motioned toward the stretch of road leading into the prairie. “Now be careful in there. It’s mating season, you know.”
His wink sent a surge into areas of her body that had lain dormant far too long. She gave him a flirty wave as she pulled away.
The drive through the prairie turned out to be a lucrative venture. Within forty-five minutes, she photographed two bull elk with their antlers intertwined in a struggle for supremacy, an eagle perched on a massive stump, bison in various stages of leisure and another bull elk nuzzling a female about the ears and neck. He tried to mount her once, but she moved away.
“You’re gonna have to give her more foreplay, big guy,” Kyndal murmured as she clicked off her shots.
On her way out, she stopped at the guardhouse to show Rick the scenes she’d caught on her digital camera.
He gave a low whistle of approval. “You have that artist’s eye. My pictures always turn out terrible. Heads cut off or out of focus.”
“Well, maybe I can give you some lessons sometime.”
Rick handed the camera back through the window. “I’d like that.” A subtle nuance in his tone made her think he wasn’t talking about photography. The idea caused her hand to quiver under the weight of the camera. “So where you headed now?”
“I’m going to shoot a cave on the western side of the lake.”
A crease formed on Rick’s forehead. “You’re going spelunking? By yourself?”
“Not spelunking.” Kyndal kept her voice light. “No crawling around through narrow passages. Just going through some rooms near the entrance and taking a few shots.”
A car turned into the reserve and headed toward the security gate.
“Well, I know caves, and they can be dangerous. You be careful,” he said.
She nodded and waved a quick goodbye as she pulled away. Jaci would be thrilled!
Pleasant daydreams of Rick occupied her mind through the drive to the northern exit of The Trace. It wasn’t until she crossed Kentucky Dam to the western shore of Kentucky Lake that she realized she didn’t know exactly where she was going.
She was relatively sure she could hike to the cave through the woods from the nearby boat ramp, the way Chance had taken her the first time. She still remembered her awe at the size of the cave. A network of small caverns connected by narrow passageways, some so low, crawling was the only way through. She’d felt as if she was roaming through a gigantic block of Swiss cheese. They’d gone back a second time, taking a road that dead-ended close to the mouth of the cave.
Try as she might, she couldn’t get her brain to remember enough details to know where that turnoff would be. She’d have to take her chances with the hike through the woods.
When she pulled into the parking lot for the boat ramp, littered with trucks pulling trailers, her heart crawled into her throat.
This cove had been Chance’s favorite fishing hole, and he always swore someday he’d own the piece of property flanking the southern rim. They’d spent so many days out on Kentucky Lake in his little rowboat—fishing, picnicking, occasionally sneaking one of his dad’s beers into the cooler, making out on the beach. Fishing became her favorite sport that summer although she never picked up a pole.
During one of Chance’s fishing trips without her, he’d found the cave. His plan had been to show it to Hank, but he never got the opportunity.
Kyndal took in the small cove, surrounded on three sides by the reds and oranges of fall foliage and the dark blue of the lake beyond. She breathed a deep, contented sigh. Some things in her life had changed greatly over the past nine years, but this site hadn’t changed one bit.
With that assurance, she armed herself with her camera bag and backpack and headed through the woods. Her heart pumped fast. She loved being outdoors on a mission, a world of possibilities before her.
Dew still clung to the leaves underfoot, and she made the passage almost in silence. Even if she hadn’t been able to see the lake as she climbed the hill toward the gray limestone bluff, she would’ve known it was there. Mist lay low in places where the sun hadn’t yet reached, and a pungent fishy odor hung in the air.
She’d often heard people complain about the stench. Not her. To her, it smelled like home. The lakes. The rivers. Any time she was in Paducah, she drove to the foot of Broadway below the flood wall for a glimpse of the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers that converged there. If she was down or feeling low, she only needed that sight to feel soothed. As long as the rivers were still there, everything would be okay.
The thought put a spring in her step as she mounted the steep incline to the bluff. Coming to the cave this morning was the right thing to do. She could feel it. She would get her photos and get this job. The date with Rick was a sign.
Kyndal crossed the ridge to the plateau that held the entrance to the cave and stopped dead in her tracks, reading the large signs posted to nearby trees. No Trespassing! Violators Will Be Prosecuted.
Evidently Mr. Turner, the old codger, was still around. Should she try to find his house and get permission?
She didn’t remember seeing a house anywhere in the vicinity. Even if she found it, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn down her request.
The only chance she had at this job was photographs of a cave.
She edged toward the entrance, half expecting an alarm to trigger, yet feeling pretty certain that fear was absurd. Who ever heard of an alarm on a cave?
She checked the trees for surveillance cameras. Unless they were hidden in squirrel or bird nests, she was unobserved.
She stepped closer. It wasn’t as if she was going to hurt anything. She was there out of appreciation for the beauty, not to mar it in any way. Freedom of the press should bring nature’s delights to everyone, not just those who could afford to be landowners.
Her indignation pushed her to the mouth of the cave. She could feel the cool dampness of its interior as she leaned her head inside.
She looked at her watch. Twelve after eight. Forty-five minutes would get her all the shots she wanted. She’d be in, out and gone.
Allowing no further debate of the matter, she made her way to the edge of the meager sunlight. She turned the flashlight on and moved through an open crevice from the first cavern into an adjacent one.
Nothing looked familiar, but the primordial green, earthy scent catapulted her back in time. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear echoes of the sobs and sighs and cries of ecstasy she and Chance had left behind nine years ago.
A surge of warmth rushed through her despite the chilly surroundings and a sentimental breath caught in her throat. She scanned the area with her flashlight. So many openings, all probably leading to other rooms. No time for nostalgia.
“Today will bring the perfect shot that will make me somebody.” Her voice slid around the smooth bowl of the cavern and returned to her.
She ducked through an opening into another area, not sure what she was looking for but confident she would know it when she saw it.
Before moving another step, she pulled the masking tape from her backpack and hung a strip from the opening she’d passed through. The afternoon in the cave with Chance taught her more than lessons in life. If he hadn’t unwound a ball of twine to follow back, they might still be here. She chuckled, remembering how pleased he was that Mrs. Cooper’s mythology class had rendered information worth remembering.
Several caverns later, she found what she was looking for. A natural column of sandstone in the middle of the room gave it an interesting feel. She arranged the portable lights from her backpack on each side, in precisely the right spots for dramatic shadows, and clicked away.
When she adjusted one of the lights, her foot knocked it over. As it fell, a brilliant spark of light reflected from the opposite wall. She picked up the lamp and moved it about, tracing the trajectory it took as it fell. There it was again! The light glinted from a horizontal crack in the wall roughly fifteen inches tall, maybe two or three feet wide. The crevice narrowed and turned down at each end, causing her to shudder. It looked like a frown in the face of the wall.
She walked over to examine it more closely. The hole had formed a couple of feet above her head, but even her limited view brought a gasp. The ceiling on the other side appeared to be solid quartz, glittering like millions of diamonds.
The pounding of her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The shot from this angle through the gap was intriguing but from inside that next cavern, aiming up directly at it… She could barely breathe at the thought.
The crevice was large enough to fit through, but reaching it was the problem. Her fingers just bent at the opening if she stretched. Augh! Why did she have to be so short?
She walked around the area, tracing the wall with the beam from her flashlight. The light showed no other way to reach the other side, so she returned to the crack with new determination.
If she jumped, she could get her palms flat onto the facing of the hole. Her arms were strong from lugging around equipment, but the wall was so smooth, she couldn’t get any purchase with her boot. After four or five tries, she noticed a bit of scraping left from her feet, though.
She jumped again, trying to suspend herself long enough to batter the soft wall. It worked. Her toe sank in a tad, enough to give her leverage to move an arm deeper through the opening.
Her arms burned and threatened to rip out of their sockets, but she held on and heaved, scrabbling her toes against the wall for any hold she might find.
The rim of the hole was only five or six inches thick, and her fingers soon clasped the inner side. Giving a scream that could have landed her a role in a horror film, she hauled her torso onto the ledge, balancing precariously like a human teeter-totter.
She eased the flashlight out of her pocket and focused the beam into the small room. Her position didn’t allow much air into her lungs, and what little was there rushed out at the sight that met her eyes. She’d been wrong. The ceiling wasn’t the focal point. The entire room was floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall crystals.
The room reminded her of the geodes she’d gathered at the LBL’s Geology Station as a kid. On the outside, they looked like lumpy dirt clods, but inside, they were solid crystal. This one was big enough to hold her rather than the other way around.
She’d never imagined a find like this. Shots from inside that cavern were once-in-a-lifetime occurrences and the opportunity she’d waited for her whole life…the one that would make her somebody. Her head whirled with possibilities.
First, she’d have to find a way in and out of there that wouldn’t make her dizzy. She lowered herself back to her starting point. Having both feet on the ground helped her think more clearly.
The obvious solution would be a ladder. Nothing too tall. A stepladder would work. But she’d also need a partner. Someone who could pass it through the opening so she could climb out and keep all her equipment safe.
Jaci.
Oh, she’d pitch a fit and whine a lot but eventually she’d agree. Cajoling her would take some time. Kyndal needed to get started right away so they could make it back by early afternoon.
She stuffed her camera and lights into the bag, grabbed her backpack and made a mad dash for the entrance, following the strips of masking tape like beacons.
Once outside, she halted, blinded momentarily by the bright sunlight. She squinted and swallowed great gulps of fresh air.
“Hold it right there, young lady.” The voice was male and gruff.
Kyndal let out a frightened yelp and swung around to face a burly man in a sheriff’s uniform. She supposed she should be relieved that she wasn’t looking down the barrel of a gun, the way she and Chance had years before. Still, the sheriff’s presence was nothing to celebrate, not with all the signs posted.
“You got permission to be here?” His tone implied he already knew the answer.
Kyndal’s clenched gut warned her not to lie, but it didn’t seem prudent to confess that she’d deliberately chosen not to ask for it, either. “Well, no, but—”
“No buts about it. It’s clearly posted there’s no trespassing.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he took in her appearance. “What’s in the bags?”
“My camera and equipment.” Kyndal went for an innocent look, opening her eyes wide. She slid the camera bag into the crook of her arm and started to unzip it.
The sheriff moved quickly for a man his size. In one smooth move he stepped back and drew his gun. “Drop the bags!”
Kyndal’s heartbeat shot into overdrive. She released the bags with a thud beside each foot.
The sheriff spoke in a low, no-nonsense tone. “Now put your hands ’hind your head and turn around real slowlike. I’m placing you under arrest.”
Kyndal willed her legs to do as he commanded. A violent shiver made the rounds through her body. Under arrest? She’d never been arrested! This was all a mistake. Surely he’d listen to reason. “I’m sorry.” She fought to keep the vibration out of her voice. “Really. I was just trying to get some photographs of a cave. I didn’t think the owner would mind.”
A strong grip held her wrist and brought it down to the small of her back. She gasped as cold metal encircled one hand. The same grip on her other arm caused a surge of panic, but the sound of the closing handcuffs brought out sheer anger. Restraints were clearly uncalled for. “I can’t believe this!” Her ears burned with humiliation. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
The sheriff took her bags with one hand and her arm with the other and steered her toward his car. “Well, Miss Unbeliever, let’s get to the office so you can start explaining how you misunderstood all these signs.” A sarcastic chuckle curled his lips into a sneer. “Your English sounds pretty good to me. Now then, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you…”
CHAPTER THREE
THEGRAYBRICKSOFTHE holding cell reflected Kyndal’s mood. Leaning back against the bars allowed a visual escape from that part of the reality, and she refused to make contact with the thin mattress on the cot that took up one wall. The only other fixture was a stainless-steel toilet stuck in the back corner. The thought of having to use the odious thing brought bile to her throat. She gripped the sheriff’s telephone tighter, trying to bring her nerves under control before she made the call.
When they’d first arrived at the Marshall County Sheriff’s Department, a teenage girl had been in the first cell. She was crying softly when the sheriff opened the door leading from his office into the narrow corridor that gave access to the cells. He stopped Kyndal in front of the girl.
“Melody,” he barked like a drill sergeant. “You know this woman?”
