Sherlock gave him her sunny smile. “Oh no, Sheriff Noble, we’re simply here to help. After all, Ruth is one of ours. Dillon called our boss, told him what we were doing. Mr. Maitland wants this cleared up as well. He hates it when someone tries to kill one of his agents.”
Savich said clearly, looking Dixon Noble in the eye, “We have no intention of bigfooting you, Sheriff, banish the thought. We can help you with equipment, information, anything you need.”
Dix still didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Would you like more tea, Agent Savich?”
DIX PUNCHED OFF his cell phone. He was grinning when he walked back into the living room. “The boys got a better offer than Dad’s leftover stew for dinner. They’re having pizza at the Claussons’ house with a bunch of other kids, bless the Claussons and all their ancestors, so we don’t have to watch what we say. I twisted the truth a bit, told them you FBI big shots weren’t staying long this evening, which meant they wouldn’t be able to get much out of you. That and the ‘Garbage Dump’ pizzas turned the tide.”
After they’d eaten the sheriff’s stew for dinner, Sherlock watched Ruth, as natural as could be, fill the kettle at the sink and put it on the stove, and fetch tea bags from a big messy cupboard. “Hey, we’ve got some cheese and crackers for dessert. They’re closed with a rubber band so they shouldn’t be stale.”
Dix laughed. “Sorry I didn’t have more to offer you for dinner.”
“The stew was excellent,” Sherlock said. “You’re a good cook, Sheriff.”
“I learned,” he said shortly, and put tea bags into two cups. “Ruth, more coffee?”
He was watching her as she nodded. “Ruth—I like that. I suppose it sounds more like you than Madonna. It’s powerful, biblical.”
Ruth smiled at him. “Sorry to switch names on you in the middle of the stream, Sheriff. Where do you think Dillon and Sherlock should stay in Maestro?”
“At Bud Bailey’s B-and-B, right on High Street, half a block from my office. Oh, I forgot, Ruth. Tell me where you were staying. No one recognized your photo.”
“I hadn’t made a reservation anywhere. I thought after I got my treasure, I’d drive back home if it wasn’t too late.”
“Did you get gas anywhere?”
“Sure, in Hamilton.”
The sheriff frowned. “That’s a bit too far up the road for us to have canvassed. Where do you live?”
“In Alexandria.”
Sherlock said, “The men in the truck that blew up—have they done the autopsies yet?”
“We were lucky we could get the county ME to work on Sunday. Even though the men were burned real bad, he managed to pull up some partial prints, and some dental X-rays. They had to come from somewhere. We’re hoping there’ll be missing persons reports on them in the next couple of days. Unless they were brought in, and that would make them professionals. There wasn’t much time for that, so that may mean some sort of local group is behind this, whoever they are and whatever this is. In any case, I’
ve called in all my deputies, and now the FBI is involved. Any ideas you guys can come up with will be appreciated.”
It was grudging, Savich thought, but it was a start, and the sheriff almost meant it. “We’ll plan to head out to Winkel’s Cave with you as our first stop tomorrow morning.” He turned to Ruth. “You want us to bring anything?”
Dix said as he shook his head, “No, I can provide flashlights and head lamps and picks in case we need them. We have a stack of them in the department.”
Savich nodded, and continued to Ruth, “I don’t suppose you got permission from the Park Service to go into that cave on Friday, did you?”
“Good news. Winkel’s Cave is on private land. Mr. Weaver, the owner, and I have already made a deal. He even had a locked gate in there, but no key, so I kind of picked the lock. It’s what Indiana Jones would have done, isn’t it?”
Sherlock rolled her eyes. “At least we don’t have to worry about getting permission from the Park Service.”
Savich said, “I bet it wouldn’t have been a problem. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Maitland has a golf crony who’s a higher-up in the Park Service.” He shot a look at Ruth, thought of how close she’d come to death. “You’re not going to be out of my sight in that cave, Ruth.”
Ruth looked pleased about that. She said, “Oh yeah, Sheriff, Mr. Maitland has four boys.”
Dix crossed himself.
“Oh dear,” Ruth said, “I’ve got to cancel all my credit cards. I left my backpack and my wallet in my car.
”
CHAPTER 11
WINKEL’S CAVE
MONDAY MORNING
RUTH SAID, “OKAY, guys, we won’t have any stretches of nice electrical lights the Park Service provides for their caves, and there won’t be any well-marked paths. You’ve got backup flashlights in your belts, but right now we’ll only need our head lamps.”
The ceiling was high enough for a while so they could walk upright. With Ruth in the lead, they took several steps around the first corner, a couple of steps down some jagged rocks, and stopped for a moment in complete darkness, except for the light from their head lamps. The cave was eerily quiet, their breaths the only sounds they heard.
“Take a look at the cave formations here,” Ruth said, pointing to a sweep of spectacular draperies, and then panning her head lamp toward a towering stalagmite. “Don’t touch anything, and try not to bump into any of these formations. They’re really fragile. Stay close.”
Since they didn’t need lug soles in Winkel’s Cave, they wore hiking boots. Still, each of them slipped a couple of times, but not badly. “Coming up on the left is a nice drop-off, maybe ten feet down, so stay in my footpath. The map was real specific about this, so maybe one of them took a header here. See that slab of limestone that looks like a commode?” All their head lamps swung to the right. “It’s distinctive, so they drew it on the map. We’re headed in the right direction, I’m sure of it. Okay, all of us except maybe Sherlock will have to bend down some starting soon, and then we veer slightly to the left for another ten feet or so. Sherlock, your head should clear okay. It’s narrower, too, but don’t worry, it’ll widen out again.”
“It’s so dark,” Sherlock whispered. Her voice echoed back to her like a hollow reed. “It’s like we’re the only people in the world.”
“We are, in this world,” Dix said. “I’ve never particularly liked caves.”
“Thank goodness Winkel’s Cave isn’t at all hairy, at least where we’re going,” Ruth said. “Like I said, you’re not even going to get your feet wet. Mr. Weaver told me there’s a stream, but it’s in a lower passage, some twenty-five feet down. He said he’d heard it but never seen it. I, for one, wouldn’t want to get lost down there.” Her laugh echoed through the huge vault they were walking through. “If you want to freak out, I’ll show you a copy of American Caving Accidents—people have fallen into pits, got tangled up in ropes, died of hypothermia from crawling in muddy water, even drowned. Now that I’ve scared you, caving isn’t dangerous if you know what you’re doing. Scrapes or bruises or sprains, that’s usually the worst of it.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Dix said, “you’ve shown how careful you are in unexplored sections of unfamiliar caves around here. I’d call that pretty dangerous.”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” Ruth said. “Okay, we’ve got about twenty more feet to go before we crawl a bit to the right through a passageway that leads to pretty near where I think I ended up.”
Dix cursed.
Savich said sharply as he swung his head lamp around, “What is it?”
“Stumbled on one of Ruth’s loose rocks. It’s okay. I have a little trouble with all this darkness.”
“We’ve got an overhang coming up; lower your heads, guys.” The men nearly doubled over.
“Another ten feet or so and it’ll get bigger again and we’ll be able to stand up.” But after five more steps, Ruth stopped cold. “Hello, what’s this?”
They moved up to huddle around her, training their head lamps straight ahead. A huge pile of debris blocked
