A Message for Julia (6 page)

For several long minutes, she listened to the men argue. She understood Jack's pain. His two sons—his only children—were down there. She felt as if she were watching a bad dream through distorted glasses. This
wasn't
real. It
couldn't
be real.

She didn't understand all the jargon they were throwing around, but she did understand that they were drilling down to try to locate the men. That wasn't going to be anytime soon, and forever stretched out in front of her. She knew from past incidents that this whole process—regardless of the outcome—could take hours, or even days.

She swallowed her anxiety and looked around at the people who shared her fear.

The Sinclair women sat behind Jack. Rita's arms were around her very pregnant daughter-in-law, Rachel. Shirley Wise sat to the side, her back ramrod straight as she glared at the men. For once, Julia and Shirley were on the same page.

Another woman sat on the front row of the bleachers. The blonde woman's face was buried in her folded arms.

Julia turned back to look at the young counselor who'd come to comfort her. Why had she come to her and not this heartbroken woman? Because of who her husband was? Julia fought a flare of anger. Neither she nor Linc wanted special treatment. She was in the same boat as everyone else here. Her loved one was trapped, too.

Her thoughts stopped. Loved one? She didn't love Linc anymore. Did she? Instead of an answer, a blank
empty void threatened to suck her under. She had to escape her thoughts.

She stood and walked over to the distraught woman. Gently, Julia touched the woman's shoulder, trying not to startle her. The woman jumped anyway and stared at her. The pain in her eyes hit Julia like a semi barreling down I-99. She nearly took a step back from it.

“I didn't… I can't…” The woman took Julia's hand and squeezed it tight. Julia let her hold on, let herself hold on.

Julia settled beside the woman. Jack didn't look pleased with what Patrick was saying, but he sat next to his wife, who laid her head on his shoulder.

Julia closed her eyes and wished for a strong shoulder to lean on… The what-ifs that popped into her mind hurt too much. She forced herself to open her eyes and focus. She couldn't let herself feel right now.

“There's a press conference scheduled for six o'clock,” Patrick said. Everyone turned to look at the large white-faced clock high up on the wall. Less than ten minutes from now. How had they been here for two hours already?

“Look.” Patrick stood beside Jack now, his hand on the man's shoulder. “I don't have the answers for you. I wish I did. We've got crews and equipment headed this way from three states. We'll do everything humanly possible to get to our crew.”

Julia realized they had to trust these men and that she had to put her faith in their knowledge, skill and determination. She didn't necessarily have to like them,
but they needed this operation to succeed as much as everyone else in the room.

Jack stood and Patrick held up his hand as he spoke. “I
will
promise you one thing. I'll tell you everything I know as soon as I know it. And I'll tell you before I tell the press. Fair enough?”

Jack nodded once, then turned back to his wife. He suddenly looked defeated and years older than he had a moment ago.

Patrick's promise sounded sincere, but Julia couldn't help but wonder how he was going to keep it. She'd never felt more helpless and alone than she did surrounded by all these people.

The mine managers left the gym with what seemed like incredible speed. As they opened the metal doors, the flash of lights, the crush of microphones and reporters was surprising and intimidating.

Julia cringed. She couldn't deal with reporters. Not now. Her panic faded when the doors closed again.

Only one of the men remained. Patrick Kelly.

Julia stood, not letting go of the woman's hand. “What now?”

Patrick seemed relieved that someone else other than Jack had spoken. “We know from experience that you all need to be as close to the site as possible.”

The shadow of past mining disasters fell across the group. They all knew the history, the successes and failures. Accurate communication was key, and Julia was relieved to hear that Patrick was aware of the risks.

“We're not going to try to run you in front of those reporters like others have done,” Patrick said. “We've
set up a tent near the command center. We'll get you all there as soon as the reporters are gone.”

“That's not going to happen.” Jack sighed in exasperation. “They're here for the duration. You know what the press is like with stuff like this.”

“I don't know how else to get you through that crush.” Patrick looked helpless and frustrated.

The thought of sitting here on the hard bleachers for any longer was too much. Julia wasn't sure she could do that without losing her mind.

“Isn't there another way out?” Shirley asked, rising from her seat.

“There is a back way.” Julia blurted out the words as her mind clicked into gear. She'd caught two kids using it just last week.

“Back way?” Everyone looked at her expectantly.

She almost smiled. It felt good to be doing something, even something so simple.

“I just want out of here,” the woman beside her whispered.

Rita spoke for the first time. “If you know how, show us.”

“Come on.” Julia helped the blonde woman to her feet and fumbled around in her pocket for her keys. The master key was something she seldom used, but she didn't think the principal would care if she used it now.

She led the group to the weight room just beyond the far doors. “There's a door behind that closet, left over from the renovation.” She pointed it out and Patrick and
Jack moved the mats away. She slid her master key into the lock she'd had put on just last week.

“Hold on.” Patrick pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and spoke into it. “Yeah. Bring it around to the back of the school.” He cautiously pushed open the door and looked around. “And don't let anyone see you leave.” After he hung up, he turned back to the families. “We've got a bus to take you up the hill.”

“What about my car?” Shirley asked.

“We'll leave your cars here for now. It'll distract the press for a while at least.”

The sound of a bus engine came through the opening in the door. “Let's go.” Patrick led them outside. “If we hurry, maybe we can slip past before the press conference ends.”

The sun hung low in the sky, and clouds blocked some of the fading twilight. A cool wind plucked at Julia's hair. She wondered where her jacket was. Had she even brought one?

Still holding the other woman's stiff hand, Julia led her across the grass to the yellow school bus. She would have preferred the physical activity of walking to the mine, but that wasn't an option at this point.

She felt better having remembered the door. She had to keep busy, had to take action. Doing kept her from thinking. She couldn't give in to her emotions. Not now. She had to be strong. Nothing else was an option.

As the bus turned the final corner out of the school parking lot, nearly everyone turned to look back. The press conference must have just ended, but the few reporters who had already stepped outside weren't quick
enough to catch even the slow-moving bus. Moments later they drove through the gates of the mine and Julia breathed a sigh of relief. They'd escaped.

For now.

Thursday Evening, 6:30 p.m.

A
HUGE WHITE TENT
had been erected on a flat patch of ground behind the mine offices. It was one of those tents typically rented for happy events—weddings, bar mitzvahs or revival meetings.

As Julia climbed off the bus, she wondered if the canvas had soaked up enough good memories to counter the bad ones she was afraid lay ahead.

Stop that!
She shook her head and tried to clear the gloomy thoughts. The quiet young woman at her side and the others shuffling behind her prompted her to keep moving.

Hank and Dennis, the other officer she'd met earlier, stood a few yards away at the gates to the compound, keeping the media out and the families in. She knew the mine didn't want any more bad press than necessary, which, for now, suited her just fine. There was no way she'd make it if she had to deal with reporters shoving microphones in her face.

The blonde woman suddenly spoke. “I'm Trish Hayes. My husband, Zach, is down there.”

“Hi, Trish. I'm Julia.” She tried to smile but found her facial muscles reluctant to cooperate.

“I know. Your husband's the inspector, isn't he?”

“Yeah.”

“Maybe that's a good thing.”

“Why?” Julia couldn't see anything good about any of this. She stumbled over a rock in the dirt path. Trish clutched her arm and kept her from falling on her face. They were definitely in this together.

“There are too many accidents. Maybe now we'll get some action from the mine owners and the government.”

Julia sighed, doubting it. She hadn't been able to persuade Linc to include her concerns about kids working the mines in his report. He hadn't agreed with her. Was there any chance now that his report on this mine might make a difference?

What if he didn't come out of this even to file a report?

Before her panic could totally overwhelm her, she and Trish walked into the tent. She stepped into the sudden dimness, waiting while her eyes adjusted.

A row of cots had been set up in the back. Metal folding chairs and several long tables made up uneven rows. One table off to the side held a large coffeepot, cups and several covered dishes.

Bless the women of Parilton. They might not be able to dig for coal, but they sure could cook. Before this was over, the table would be laden with enough casseroles to feed an army.

And the rescue crews fit that bill. They'd wolf it down in between trips into the mine. Julia looked away from
the food, away from the images it conjured of long hours spent not knowing.

Instead, she focused on the coffeepot. She craved a jolt of caffeine and led Trish to the table to fill a cup. The dark brew scalded her tongue and throat going down.

Perfect.

Voices came through the tent opening. Almost as one, she and Trish turned. Patrick led a small group inside. A big, burly man among them called out, “Trish. Where's Trish?”

Trish's arm left Julia's for the first time since that moment in the gym. A wave of loneliness swept over her as Trish moved away.

“Daddy,” Trish cried and sped across the tent. The man enfolded her in his arms. She let loose and sobbed into the front of his flannel shirt.

Patrick lifted his hand. “Can I have your attention?” Everyone, including Trish, looked up hopefully. “I need you all to make a list of anyone who will be joining you here.” Disappointment hung in the air as he handed out pieces of paper. “The police are going to keep everyone else out.”

Shirley spoke up from the back of the group. “My daughter's going to be flying in from Georgia.”

“Put her name on your list and we'll be sure to let her in. And if you talk to her, to anyone, tell them to have their ID handy.”

Shirley stepped forward. “Has anyone contacted Mamie Hastings?”

“Who's she?” Patrick asked.

“Her son Robert's on Gabe's crew. He's down there,
I'm sure. I didn't see him come into the gym.” She waited until Patrick nodded. “She lives over at Shady Pines Retirement Home in Hillsville.”

“I doubt she knows,” Patrick admitted.

“Well, someone better tell her.”

“Do you think she's up to it?” Obviously, Patrick believed the elderly woman was too infirm.

Shirley chuckled. “You better send someone to go get her. She's liable to start heading this way with her walker if she sees it on the news.”

“I'll check on it.”

Julia figured Hank or Dennis would be headed over to Hillsville soon.

From her vantage point near the coffee station, Julia looked over the crowd. The families were grouped together and Patrick made the rounds. When he stopped in front of her, he hesitated.

“Are you here alone?”

She nodded, meeting his gaze, defying him to make an issue of it. He handed her a sheet of paper and a stubby pencil that had seen better days. The blank page blurred. She couldn't begin to think what to do with it. Instead, she folded it and shoved it into her pocket with the pencil.

Patrick moved away, but not before squeezing her shoulder.

Another man's voice startled her. “Are you Julia?” She looked up at the bear of a man who had hugged Trish.

“Y-yes.”

He stuck out his hand. “Walt Robinson. I wanted to thank you for watchin' after my girl.”

Julia nodded and slipped her hand into his. Her fingers were engulfed, and before she realized what he had in mind, he'd pulled her into a strong hug. She ached to turn into his embrace as Trish had, but instead she pulled back. She focused on the coffee he'd miraculously not spilled.

“Take care of her,” she told him with a voice that seemed way too small and stepped away, letting the family have their privacy.

Over the next hour, several more people arrived and the melancholy reunion hugs were nearly incessant. Julia looked around, sipping yet another cup of coffee, a cup that became her focus, something to hold on to. People, strangers and neighbors, were everywhere. They pressed in close and the noise level rose to a dull roar.

She needed to get out of here. With her cup in hand, she stepped outside the quickly crowded tent.

She gulped in the cooling mountain air and felt her muscles relax a little. The scent of rain was heavy in the breeze, and as if summoned by her thoughts, drops started to fall around her. Still she didn't go back inside. She scooted up against the tent flap, out of the rain and away from the crowd.

Too many people made her nervous. If anyone touched her, or was too nice to her, she'd fall apart. She refused to let that happen.

Glancing at her watch, she realized three more hours had passed. How long had Linc been down there? Nearly
five hours now. It seemed like five days. Five years. Forever.

Hold on. Please hold on.

Thursday Evening, Six and a Half Hours Underground

L
INC STARED AT THE UNEVEN
surface of the cavern's ceiling. It wasn't far away and even in the dim light, he made out the rough contour where the machine had ground the rock away from itself. The crew that would be searching for them had to go through that. Thinking about how much work needed to be done only added to his fatigue and worry.

He was tired. They all were. They were trying to conserve energy as best they could. Besides, what else did they have to do but wait?

Claustrophobia threatened and he bit it back. Panicking was not an option. Deep, slow breaths. He focused on listening to and slowing his own heart rate. He'd learned the techniques not long after his father's death, when the nightmares of being trapped first appeared. He'd conquered it then, he'd do it now.

“Gabe?” he called out into the void.

“Yeah?” The older man's voice was soft and seemed distant.

“What's the one thing you're going to do when we get out of here?”

Gabe chuckled. “Buy a burger, a big fat juicy one—to hell with my cholesterol.”

Linc laughed.

“And you?”

Linc struggled to answer. “I don't know,” he lied. He knew what he
wanted
to do, but making love to Julia was out of the question now. How long had it been? He had no clue and that didn't sit well with him. Where had the urgency gone that had filled those first years? He could clearly recall those days when they couldn't keep their hands off each other. Now he might never get the chance to touch her again. And not just because he was trapped here. She was probably completely moved out of the house by now.

Seven years of marriage gone. What was even left for him to go home to?

He closed his eyes against the oppressive dark. Maybe if he kept remembering everything, he'd somehow be stronger, more resistant to being erased by time or events. Maybe he'd live a little longer.

He glanced at his watch, the face glowing in the darkness with a press of a button. They'd been down here seven hours. He swallowed hard, fighting the panic that threatened to overwhelm him.

“Hey, Mike.” Ryan called to his brother from where he sat next to Linc, breaking the cycle of Linc's thoughts.

“Yeah?” Mike didn't sound good.

“You think Dad's waiting up top for us?”

“Probably.” Mike paused, then turned to look at his younger brother. “He knows, kid. He knows.” Mike tried to reassure Ryan, but even to Linc's ears, he sounded scared.

Thursday Evening, 11:00 p.m.

J
ULIA HAD NEVER SEEN
a night sky like this before. Floodlights brighter than sunshine shone over the valley.
Where the clouds had blocked the sun most of the day, those same clouds now reflected the light. The damp drizzle continued, reminding her just how at the mercy of the elements they all were.

True to their word, the mine owners had brought in crews of men and truckloads of equipment.

Also true to his word, Patrick came to the tent every half hour to keep the families informed. So far there had been precious little beyond the explanations of which teams were planning to do what.

Between meetings, the large tent had filled with more people. Julia could hardly stand the crowd.

She had learned more about Trish Hayes, who seemed to be the only person who realized Julia was even there. She told herself she preferred it that way. She discovered that Zach Hayes had worked this mine for nearly three years, and another one for five years before that. He and Trish didn't have any kids, either, which Trish considered a blessing at times like this.

Once again, Julia stood at her perch near the opening of the tent, mug in hand. The coffee had grown cold but she needed something solid to hold on to.

Just then, Hank's squad car pulled through the gates and stopped a few feet from the tent's entrance. He hurried around the car and pulled open the passenger door. He unfolded a metal walker and set it in front of the white-haired, elderly woman as she turned in the seat. Unfurling an umbrella with one hand, he helped her stand with the other. This must be Mamie Hastings. She wasn't as old as Julia had expected—probably in
her mid-seventies—but obviously had trouble getting around on her own.

“Thank you, Hank.” The woman smiled up at him. Julia recognized it as a courteous smile without any warmth. There was too much worry and pain in the old woman's eyes. She slowly stood and made her way toward the tent opening.

Hank looked over at Julia and waved his hand for her to join him and help. The look on his face told her he didn't know how to deal with this woman. Curiosity nudged her to his side. Julia walked along beside them, but Mamie did just fine.

“Shirley?” Hank called out as they stepped inside the tent. “Mamie's here.”

Shirley rushed over and stepped in front of Julia, helping guide the old woman to one of the padded folding chairs.

Before she sat down, though, the woman gave Shirley a hug. “Thank you for sending for me. I hate my boy bein' down there.”

“Well, we're all here together now.” Shirley looked up at Julia. There wasn't any warmth in Shirley's gaze, either, but not just because she was worried.

Julia knew Shirley didn't like her. She'd never kept that a secret. Julia wasn't quite sure why, but she felt her enmity even now. Rather than introducing Julia to Mamie, Shirley helped the elderly woman get settled in a chair, and then went off to get her a drink.

“Hello.” Julia stepped forward to introduce herself. “I'm Julia Holmes.”

Again, Mamie flashed one of those too-polite smiles. “Yes, hello. The inspector's wife.”

Once, just one time during all this, Julia wished someone would realize she was Julia, not “Mrs. Linc.” Sighing, she put it down to the woman's age and the society in which she'd lived so much of her life. It didn't do any good letting it bother her. “Yes. I am.”

“Nice to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Me, too.”

Shirley returned and without acknowledging Julia, planted herself between Mamie and her. She patted Mamie's hand and filled her in on Patrick's last report. Mamie listened, slowly sipping her drink as her eyes grew more distant and her skin paled.

Julia stood back, feeling deliberately excluded and very much the outsider. She needed space, some fresh air, and, walking backward, she headed toward it. She grabbed one of the rain slickers that hung by the front entry and slipped it on. She needed more space than she could get in the doorway.

Outside, the air was cool and felt good after the heat in the tent from so many close bodies. She walked down the hill a short way, looking at the familiar outline of the mine and the new addition, the drilling rig atop the next hill. The skeletal frame had the appearance of a looming monster poised to attack.

Men scurried around, and she watched their headlamps flash puddles of light across the uneven, damp ground. Just outside the mouth of the mine, another white tent had been erected. Inside two men huddled
over a large table covered with papers and maps. Several miners nodded to her, but none stopped as they passed. She recognized their faces despite the grime that covered their features. Even the rain couldn't remove it all. Instead, the moisture sent dark streaks down onto their clothes.