December Park(76)

“What is that?” Peter said.

“It’s the traffic up above, I think,” Scott said. “We’re probably heading beneath the highway.”

“Holy shit,” Michael whispered.

As we progressed, the droning grew louder and more resonant. Soon the rush of passing automobiles was perfectly audible directly above our heads through the layers of bedrock. We were beneath Governor Highway. With each passing vehicle, the tunnel seemed to vibrate, and I imagined I could feel the heat from the cars’ exhaust as they zoomed by. I was sweating profusely, the stillness of the air in the tunnel like that of a locked mausoleum.

“Where do you think this tunnel comes out?” I said to the darkness.

“What if it doesn’t?” Peter said. “What if it goes on for miles until it dead-ends?”

“I can’t walk like this for miles. My back’s gonna break.”

“Or what if the floor breaks apart and we fall into it?” he went on. “We’d be down there with broken necks waiting to die. It could take days. Weeks, even.”

I ran one hand along the rocky wall. “Is it me or is this tunnel getting smaller and smaller?”

“No one would ever find us,” Peter went on.

“Hey,” Michael broke in. “I feel like the filling in an * sandwich. How ’bout talking about something else, huh?”

“If this goes straight across the highway,” I said, “then we’re heading toward the Superstore plaza.”

“What if we came up through the floor of a bank vault?” said Scott. “That would be awesome.”

“Or a sub shop,” said Peter. “I’m starving.”

After the drone of the highway traffic receded into the darkness behind us, Adrian said, “I think I see light up ahead. A little pinpoint of daylight.”

“Thank God,” Michael groaned. He hadn’t let go of my shirt the entire time.

I pushed against Scott’s back, feeling the sweat that had dampened his shirt. It was a lot of sweat. But then I realized there was water dripping from the crevices in the rock above our heads. Like walking straight into a spiderweb, I frantically swiped the cold water off my face and out of my eyes. When I opened my eyes, I thought I could see the widening disc of daylight at the other end of the tunnel, too.

“Shit,” Scott uttered. This was followed by the sound of something metal clanging on the floor of the tunnel. Ahead of him, Adrian’s flashlight clattered to the ground.

“What happened?” I said.

Scott said, “Adrian?”

“There’s . . . something . . . ,” Adrian mumbled.

I shined my flashlight beam over Scott’s shoulder as Adrian bent down and picked something up off the ground. I took a small step, and my right foot came down on something that threatened to roll out from under me. Glancing down, I saw that it was Adrian’s flashlight. “Here,” I said and toed it over to Scott, who grabbed it and handed it to Adrian.

“Look,” Michael said. “Can we get out of here or what?”

“Yeah,” Peter seconded.

We hurried toward the circle of daylight, spilling one by one out into the cool wind and silver-gray skies of an overcast afternoon. It had started to rain while we were underground, the raindrops feeling like blessed salvation on my sweat-sticky flesh. I massaged rainwater onto my hot face and breathed the fresh air. Thunder cracked.

We were in the ditch behind the Superstore parking lot. Muddy water swirled about my feet, soaking the cuffs of my jeans.

Adrian stood beside me, casually examining the item he had just found in the tunnel. It was an iron fleur-de-lis, and it looked heavy.

“Cool,” I said.

Adrian opened his shopping bag and dropped it inside.

Just then, lightning burst on the other side of the plaza. The rain came down harder. We climbed out of the ditch and crossed the narrow band of asphalt that ran behind the Superstore’s loading docks. Green and silver awnings hung over the loading bays, and we crowded beneath one just as the rain came down in a torrent.

Peter dug a pack of Pall Malls out of his pocket. Peering into the pack, he said, “Shoot. I’ve only got one left.”

Another whip crack of thunder caused us all to jump.

“Well,” Michael said, slinging an arm around Adrian’s neck. There were streaks of black mud on Michael’s face. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

Rain had speckled the lenses of Adrian’s glasses. He grinned at Michael, then turned and looked toward the ditch. “What if the killer got her right here?”

Peter sucked on his cigarette, then passed it to Scott. “What do you mean?”

Adrian pointed to the ditch. “What if Courtney Cole made it out of December Park, across the highway, and was crossing the road back here when she ran into the killer? He could have killed her over there, then carried her through the tunnel to the woods to throw off the police. Did you guys see the way the water flowed through the tunnel? Maybe the locket broke right here and got washed out to the other end of the tunnel.”

“That still doesn’t help us any,” I said.

“But if that’s what happened, then the police were definitely looking in the wrong place for clues.” Adrian took his glasses off, wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt, and slid them back on. He motioned toward the far side of the ditch. “What’s beyond those trees?”