Home to Whiskey Creek (2 page)

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A
delaide Davies stared at the hole above her, the only thing she could see in this dark space. Would the person who’d called to her really come back?

It didn’t look hopeful. She had no way of keeping track of the passing minutes, but it seemed as if an hour had gone by since he’d promised to help.

Maybe he was the same person who’d put her down here and he’d just returned to make sure she didn’t survive. Maybe he knew she was guilty of something even worse than what
he’d
done, and felt that this would be a fitting end....

No! No one knows the truth. Except me.
She had to quell the fear charging through her, or she wouldn’t survive this emotionally, even if she survived it physically. It was fifteen years since she’d last been inside the mine, since she’d been anywhere close. As a matter of fact, she’d been here only once before—to attend a high school graduation party when she was a sophomore.

It’d all seemed so exciting, so hopeful when she was invited. But that party had changed her forever. Never again would she be the same shy but happy girl she’d been before. And, unlike so many other victims, she knew exactly who to blame. There’d been five of them, five of the most popular jocks, all upperclassmen.

The memories of that night made her sick. She would’ve gone to the police, would’ve seen to it that they were prosecuted as they deserved. But she couldn’t, for a lot of reasons.

It was getting too cold. She had to do something or she’d freeze to death in this damp, dark hole. After myriad attempts to climb or dig her way out, she could hardly move. Her wrists burned from the welts she’d caused by straining against the rope that had bound her hands. One whole side of her body was bruised from when she’d landed. But she had to scream, at the very least. She couldn’t let the discouragement, the heartbreak, the memories, win.

“Hello? Can someone help me?
Please?
I’m in the mine!”

There was no answer; calling out seemed futile. The guy who’d stopped before was gone.

Her throat too raw to continue, she got to her feet and made another attempt to climb. She had to save herself before it grew any darker. But she slipped and slid down on her aching bottom. Nothing worked. The walls were irregular and too steep, and the pile of broken and fallen beams, jutting out in all directions, gave her slivers when she tried to use it for support.

What now?
she asked herself. The person who’d thrown her down here had only beaten her enough to get her to comply with his demands. He hadn’t raped her. But the moment she dropped her guard or became too distraught, the memories of what it’d been like that other time—the night of the party—washed over her, lapping higher and higher, like the incoming tide, until her mind was saturated with the past and she felt no different than the terrified girl she’d been at sixteen.

It was the smell, she decided. The smell conjured up that night as vividly as though she’d just lived it.

Sweet sixteen and never been kissed,
one of them had breathed in her ear.

Hugging herself, she began to rock. She was shaking so hard she could hear her teeth chattering but couldn’t stop. Was she in shock?

Would she even think of shock if she were?

Either way, she had a black eye. There was little doubt about that. Her face throbbed where she’d been struck, full-on, by a man’s fist. She’d broken a couple of fingernails trying to fend him off. She could tell those fingers were bleeding. All the digging to create handholds or footholds or find crevices that might lead out hadn’t helped. She guessed the scratches on her arms and legs from the many tumbles she’d taken were bleeding, too, but she couldn’t see whether that was really the case. Not anymore. The light filtering through the opening was almost gone.

Would she have to spend another night in this place?

The prospect of that, of the cold and the rats and the fear of flooding, made her rock faster, back and forth, back and forth. It hurt to move, but she had to concentrate on
something
or she’d go crazy.

“You—you are powerful. You are...c-capable. You can overcome.” This kind of self-talk had fostered the determination that had carried her through the long hours so far, close to seventeen if her guess was accurate. It was at least 3:00 a.m. when she’d been dragged from her bed, wasn’t it?

She wasn’t sure exactly. She only knew that, after two and a half days of being “home” to take care of Gran, she’d been awakened by a man who whispered that he’d “stab the old lady” if she screamed or tried to escape; and that was all he had to say. She’d do anything to protect her grandmother Milly, even relive the nightmare of fifteen years ago. But he’d simply issued a terse warning telling her he’d kill her if she ever talked about that graduation party and then threw her down the mine shaft.

It was a miracle she hadn’t been more badly hurt. The demolition they’d done after Cody’s death had felled most of the support beams, sealing off some of the deeper crevices, or she might have fallen much farther.

“Hey, you still down there?”

Her heart lifted with hope. The man she’d heard before was back!

“I’m here!” she called. “C-can you help me? You have t-to help me. I don’t want to spend another night in here.”

“
Another
night? God, what happened to you?” he said, but she could tell he was busy and not waiting for an answer. He’d probably ask again once the pressure was off. For now, he seemed focused on the task at hand.

Closing her eyes, Adelaide tilted her head back and let the tears she’d refused to shed roll down her cheeks. She’d made it through another traumatic experience. The boys from Whiskey Creek hadn’t broken her yet. She’d survived. Again.

“I have a rope. Do you have the strength to hang on to it long enough for me to haul you up?”

If she tried, she’d fall. Not only was she battered and bruised, she’d had barely three hours of sleep before being abducted. Dressed in the shirt and panties she’d worn to bed, she was shivering violently. And she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in over a day.

She wanted to be brave, to say she could do whatever getting out required, but she felt as helpless as a baby. It’d taken everything she had just to stave off the panic and despair. Now that someone had arrived, now that she had support, the adrenaline that’d kept her going left her drained.

“I...don’t think so,” she admitted.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “I won’t leave you again. I’ll stay here all night if necessary, okay, Addy?”

She hadn’t realized her emotions were that apparent. She wished she could maintain a stiff upper lip, at least until she got home and could fall apart in private. But she had no more reserves of any kind.

Fortunately, the gentleness in his voice and the commitment behind those words made her feel as if he’d wrapped a warm blanket around her shoulders. “I—I appreciate that,” she stammered, and meant it.

“I’m going to make a loop. All you have to do is slip it over your head and down under your butt. Can you do that?”

She was still conscious. She had to be capable of doing that much. “I’ll try.”

It was now completely dark. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, let alone the end of a rope coming toward her, but he had a flashlight that illuminated the area above her head. “Do you see it?”

“Yes,” she responded when it nearly hit her in the face.

“Great. That’s the first step. Put it on. I’ll wrap this end around a tree so I can keep from falling in with you if I lose my footing. Then I’ll start bringing you up.”

He hadn’t asked how much she weighed, how her size compared to his. He was a guy; he expected to be bigger. But not all guys were. At six feet, she was taller than most women and a good number of men, too. Although she’d always been thin, she wasn’t convinced he’d have the strength to raise her.

Should she tell him the job might be more difficult than he expected and risk having him decide to go for help instead?

No. She couldn’t wait another second. Maybe he’d drop her on the ascent, but if this was her only hope of getting out
now,
she was taking that chance.

After wiping her tears, she did as he instructed. “Ready.”

“That’s what I want to hear. See? Everything will be fine. All I need you to do is keep the rope under your bottom. Can you do that?”

She didn’t have any choice, not if she wanted out. “Yes.”

“Perfect. Here we go.”

The rope drew so taut it cut into her thighs, but nothing happened.

Terror ripped through her. The task was too much for him, just as she’d feared! She stifled a whimper, preparing for the moment when he’d admit defeat. But then he began to reel her toward him, inch by painstaking inch.

Dangling in midair, completely dependent on a stranger she couldn’t even see, was frightening. But he was trying to help, and that was better than being alone in the mine. Anything was better than being alone.

When at last she reached the opening, she couldn’t see a lot more than she could in the shaft, but the fresh air sweeping over her confirmed that she was no longer inside the mine.

I’m free.
She choked on a sob. She didn’t have the strength to crawl over the lip, but he grabbed her arms and hauled her out before sinking down next to her.

“There...you...go,” he said, as if her problems were over. But, in some ways, the mine still held her captive, and she was afraid that would always be true.

Heedless of the gravel and dirt, she rolled onto her back so she could stare up at the starry sky. “Thank you.”

He propped himself up beside her. She could hear his movements but couldn’t make out more than a dark figure. “I’m glad I heard you. How badly are you hurt?” he asked.

It was cold, colder than inside the mine, thanks to the wind, but she didn’t care. “I’m n-not sure.”

“Anything broken?”

Relieved that he was giving her a chance to recover before waving that flashlight in her face, she put her arm over her eyes in case he angled it at her before she was ready. “I don’t think so. I’m just...rattled and b-banged up.”

“What happened?” He seemed to have caught his breath. “How’d you wind up in the mine?”

You tell anyone about graduation and I’ll kill you. I’ll stab the old lady, too. Do you understand? No one wants to hear it. It’s old news. And in case you’ve been gone so long you haven’t heard, Cody’s dad is mayor now. Going to the police won’t get you anywhere. Consider this a little...FYI.

How much did she dare tell before she was asking for more trouble? She couldn’t say she’d
fallen
into the mine and expect to be believed. Once he could see her clearly, he’d notice that she was in her underwear and her eye was swollen almost shut. The marks from the rope would be another giveaway.

But she couldn’t be honest, or the man who’d done this might think she was blabbing, exactly as he feared.

“I, uh, s-sleepwalk sometimes.” It was an obvious lie, one that would most likely be interpreted as a refusal to answer, but that seemed her only option.

“You...
sleepwalk?
” When he raised the flashlight, she tried to cover herself. Her pink Victoria’s Secret tee fit tight and short, and her panties were barely a scrap of fabric, but there wasn’t much she could do about her nightwear at this point.

Fortunately, he didn’t seem to focus on her state of undress. He was too surprised by the condition of her face. She knew it was her injuries that had caught his attention when he turned her chin toward him so he could have a better look. “Sleepwalking, my ass.”

“I, uh, hit my face when I fell.”

“Right.” The sarcasm that dripped from that word screamed
bullshit.
“Why are you lying, Addy? Do you know the person who did this to you? Is that it?”

Not quite the way he thought....

“Was it your husband or boyfriend or...lover?”

“No. I’m not m-married.” Thank God! She had been once, but for such a brief period it wasn’t even worth counting. Saying “I do” to Clyde Kingsdale had been a bad fit from the beginning. Fortunately, she’d realized her mistake almost immediately.

“You have to be protecting someone,” he said. “You don’t need to tell
me.
But I hope you’ll tell the police.”

Unable to tolerate the brightness of his flashlight, she jerked her chin away. “There’s no reason to include the police. I— It was my own stupid mistake.”

He didn’t shine the light in her face again. He set it aside so he could help her pull on his sweatshirt. The soft fleece warmed her but not enough to stop the shivering. “Where do you live?”

“Whiskey Creek. At the moment,” she added because she hadn’t yet come to terms with the fact that, depending on what she convinced Gran to do, she might need to stay longer than the few months she was planning.

“Hey! I’m from Whiskey Creek, too,” he said with obvious surprise. “What’s your last name?”

“Davies.”

“Have we met?”

How could she tell? What she’d seen of him so far had been dark and indistinct. He was tall and muscular; she’d gathered that much from his general shape. He was strong, too, or he couldn’t have lifted her out. But that was all she knew. She couldn’t even see the color of his hair.

“Maybe,” she said. “Who are you?” Chances were good she’d recognize the name. Gran owned Just Like Mom’s, one of the more popular restaurants in the area, and she used to help out there.

She’d anticipated
some
degree of familiarity, but the name came as a shock.

“Noah Rackham.”

She said nothing,
could
say nothing. It felt as if he’d just punched her in the stomach.

“My father used to own the tractor sales and rental place a few miles out of town,” he explained to provide her with a frame of reference.

Fresh adrenaline made it possible for her to scramble to her feet, despite the pain the movement caused her scraped and bruised body. “
Cody’s
brother?” She had the urge to rip off the sweatshirt he’d given her.