A Dime a Dozen (41 page)

“Is that how you deal with problems in your love life, Harriet?” I asked, chuckling.

“You better believe it,” she said. “When a fellow gives me any guff, I say hog-tying is the way to go.”

Forty-Seven

Back at the cabin, I dressed warmly in a sweater, jacket, and gloves, even though the night wasn’t all that chilly. I thought it better to be safe than sorry, since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be outside.

I left Harriet settled in front of the television, and I was relieved that her urge to “detect” seemed to have passed, particularly since one of her favorite shows was on. I told her I was going for a walk, and though I don’t think she believed me, she seemed too engrossed in her show to put up much of a fuss.

Unfortunately, I thought as I stepped outside and pulled the door shut behind me, I didn’t have my night-vision goggles with me on this job. But as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I thought I would be able to see enough to get by. Walking as quickly and quietly as possible, I started the climb up the road, keeping near to the tree line.

Once I reached the spot where Zeb’s footsteps had disappeared into the brush this morning, I scoped things out and found myself a nice hiding place, across the road and up a bit behind a tree. Again I wished for my goggles, but at least the moon was bright, nearly three-quarters full.

I only had to wait about an hour. Just when I was starting to feel chilled, I heard the distinct sound of footsteps on the pavement. I froze, hoping my cover was as good from a lower angle as it was from in front. I needn’t have worried. One glance at Zeb as he walked by showed me that he was totally absorbed in his own mission, and that he wouldn’t have noticed me if I had been standing in the middle of the road, waving a flag.

Nearly duplicating his earlier footprints, he stepped from the road and into the brush across the street. As I watched through the branches of the tree, he used the hidden latch to get through the fence and then kept going. Afraid I might lose him in the dark, I quietly extricated myself from my hiding place and dashed across the street just as he disappeared into some trees. I quickly let myself through the fence and then made my way in the same direction that he had gone until I caught sight of him and hid myself behind another tree.

As I watched, he walked around to the far side of a mound that was covered with kudzu vines. Then, much as I had expected, he reached into the kudzu and simply opened it like a door. He clicked on a flashlight, stepped forward, and then let the door close behind him.

It was all I could do not to leap out from behind the tree and run directly to the spot where he had disappeared. Instead, I forced myself to wait ten minutes and then proceed slowly and carefully.

Heart pounding, I made my way across the brush and up to the mound. Silently, I reached through the vines and felt the solid hardness of a door. My fingers found a handle and, holding my breath, I pulled, just as I had seen Zeb do. Sure enough, the door came open, revealing a space so black there was no way for me to know what was inside.

It smelled of dirt and mold, and I took a tentative step forward, reaching out to feel the walls and ceiling with my hands. From what I could tell, they were made of dirt, reinforced with wood beams. Incredible.

It was definitely the entrance to some kind of mine. I was desperate to explore it, but I couldn’t do that while Zeb was still inside. If he was staying true to his pattern, he would be here all night and go back down the hill in the morning. I’d simply have to force myself to wait until then and come back to explore once I knew he was safely home.

I’d never sleep tonight! Reluctantly, I stepped out through the kudzu, silently shut the door, and retraced my steps to the road, making sure I hadn’t left any telltale footprints. I jogged all the way back to my house, my heart pounding more from the excitement than from the exertion.

Once I arrived home, I went online and did some research on North Carolina and mines. Sure enough, as I read I realized that this area was loaded with precious and semiprecious gems, not to mention metals and marble and even gold. According to one website, western North Carolina had more minerals per square mile than any other place on earth. While I had known gem mining was a popular tourist attraction around here, I had no idea how much the world depended on North Carolina’s supplies of iron and copper and, yes, even mica for its mineral supply. By the time I had finished reading, my brain was spinning with all I had learned.

I doubt I slept more than a few hours the whole night.

I was up at daybreak, dressed and waiting by the front window, my eyes glued to the road. Zeb finally appeared around 7:00 a.m., looking dirty and exhausted. After he had gone past, I waited a full five minutes before stepping outside and quietly shutting the door.

It was a cool morning, and I was dressed for warmth, knowing I might be heading down into subterranean temperatures. I crept to the end of the driveway and peered around the bushes toward Zeb’s house. As expected, there was no sign of him. I felt pretty safe in assuming that he had gone inside his house and would soon be headed for bed. No wonder he worked at Su Casa in the late afternoons—he was mining all night and then sleeping all morning!

I stuffed two flashlights into one pocket and my camera into the other, zipped them shut, and started up the mountain. I didn’t have far to go, but by the time I got there I was breathless—partly because of the altitude and partly from nervous excitement. Though this venture was necessary to my investigation, I was about to trespass in a very big way.

And I could only imagine what I might find when I did!

Even in broad daylight, the door wasn’t visible. But I reached confidently through the thick green vines, found the handle, and pulled. As before, the portal simply came open in my hand, revealing a dark tunnel inside. Looking from side to side, I unzipped my jacket pocket, pulled out a flashlight, and turned it on. Then, taking a deep breath, I stepped into the tunnel and let the door shut behind me.

It was dark. Dark and dank and creepy. I played the light around on the walls, ceiling, and floor, but as I had assumed last night, they were simply made of packed dirt, reinforced by rough wood beams. Gingerly, I stepped forward. The ground under my feet was slightly sloped, but solid.

Heart pounding, I started inching forward, praying mightily that I wouldn’t encounter anyone—either in front of me or behind me. I checked my pocket for the spare flashlight just to be sure, and then I pressed onward, trying to tell myself to walk faster,
walk faster
.

As I went, the light from my flashlight lit the way, revealing the ceiling as it sloped downward, eventually nearly touching my head. The ground was wet in places, with wide, mucky puddles, and the walls were oozing moisture like sweat. I wondered if I would encounter any snakes and, if I did, what kind they might be. Remembering back to my hiking days with Bryan, I tried to recall the varieties of snakes that were found in the Smoky Mountains.

Yuck
. Concentrating on my progress, it felt as though the tunnel went straight back under the road. The slope leveled out after a while, and then the ceiling dipped even lower. I now had to bend as I walked, though I was no longer headed downhill. Still, the tunnel was so long!

The further I went into the mountain, the more uneasy I became. What if someone caught me in here? How would anyone ever know? No one would hear my screams. Worse, though, was the thought that the tunnel might not be stable.

The ceiling became so low I nearly had to crawl, and at that point I stopped and assessed the situation. Crouching on the ground, I shined the light behind me and in front of me. Nothing but empty tunnel in either direction.

I crawled forward, my knees sinking in the muck, the flashlight clinched in my teeth. I was wishing I had a hard hat with a built-in light when I hit my head on something—and then I wished I had a hard hat for protection from myself.

“Ouch!” I whispered, putting a hand to my forehead.

Stopping, I leaned back on my knees and looked up. In front of me was a hard, solid rock wall.

The tunnel had come to an end.

I knelt there in the mud, a surge of tears stinging my eyes. To have come all this way and end up finding
nothing?
I had visions of caves, mines, miles of tunnels, mountains of glittering jewels. Instead, I was sitting in the muck, at a dead end in front of a rock wall. In frustration, I pushed at the rock with an angry groan.

Much to my surprise, it gave way.

Forty-Eight

Crouching in the tunnel, I looked at the opening where the rock had been. Slowly, carefully, I inched forward to put my head through the hole.

I was at the entrance to a mine.

I played my flashlight around on the walls and ceiling of the large chamber. Though these walls were of dirt just like the tunnel, there was something different here. As I scooted through the hole, stood up, and moved closer, I realized there was some sort of shiny substance in the dirt, like little flecks of glitter. That, I realized, must be the mica.

I tried to stretch out the pains in my back from bending over for so long, and then I returned my attention to the big rock that had blocked my way at the end of the tunnel. It was now in the mud on the ground, and I realized that it was just a big, flat piece of slate. It had been used to cap the tunnel on purpose, though I didn’t know why. It was probably there to serve as a diversion in case someone happened upon the tunnel and tried to explore it.

Heart pounding, I wanted to look around, but at this point I knew I was in grave danger. If anyone came down that tunnel, I would be trapped deep in the heart of the mountain with no one to hear my cries. I checked my cell phone, but of course it had no service inside the cave. That wasn’t good. If I were to explore, I’d be doing it without any way to call for help.

Still, I was here. There was no way I was going to turn around and go back home without at least poking around just a bit. I shined the flashlight on my watch and decided to give myself exactly ten minutes. I had to choose whether to go right or left, and I went left.

In those ten minutes, I methodically wandered through the mine, moving from wide chambers like the one I had come in on to narrow passageways and then back to larger areas again. There was a lot of debris cast about—broken shovels and picks, chunks of wood, empty bottles and cans. Nowhere did I see gleaming jewels clustered on the walls, but I had to remind myself that gems in the rough weren’t always easy to spot. Eventually, I came to a small dented bucket, and I looked inside to see some rocks soaking in a liquid. Nearby was a dirty pair of rubber gloves. Steeling my nerve, I pulled on one of the gloves, reached into the bucket and took out a rock.

It was sort of gray and brown and white, with shiny pieces of mica jutting out from the sides. One end was an odd shade of blue, and as I held the rock in my hand, I realized that it was a lot heavier than a rock that size would normally be.

Looking around, I saw that this same type of rock was protruding from the walls here and there throughout the mine. Whatever kind of gem this was, there was certainly plenty of it here.

Pulse surging, I pulled out my camera and took a picture of the rock, the flash blinding me momentarily as I did. I set the rock back into the bucket, pulled off the glove, and then snapped a picture of the bucket. Though I didn’t see how a grown man could be drowned in a container that size, I supposed it was possible.

It wasn’t until I entered the next chamber that I realized my mistake. There, beside a group of wide wooden beams that ran floor to ceiling, was a much larger bucket. This bucket was also lined on the bottom with rocks and filled with a clear liquid that smelled kind of like detergent. Nearby were discarded bottles of iron remover.

I felt certain this was where Enrique had been drowned.

Knees wobbly, I stepped closer to the bucket, and then I saw that behind the beams were what looked like wooden stairs. I had a feeling they led the way up and out of the mine at a location far removed from where I had entered. I tried to get closer to the stairs and shine my flashlight up them, but the beams blocked the way.