Page 38 of Avenging Angel

“That’s one way to get in a workout,” I joke.

Once all the bags fill the countertop, table, and any other available space, Vinny glances at the envelope in my hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened it yet,” I tell him. “What if it’s a bomb?”

Angel chuckles. “It would be the smallest bomb ever made if it’s in a flat envelope.”

“It could contain anthrax or another deadly toxin,” I say. I’d only meant it as a joke, but the seriousness on everyone’s face lets me know that it’s a real possibility.

My face contorts as I drop the envelope on the floor and take a step back, now nervous about what could be inside.

Owen laughs at me as he picks it up. “I wish I could capture your face for posterity. It’s priceless. Alas, my phone is on the desk, so my memory will just have to do.”

“You’re a dweeb, you know that?”

“But I’m a dweeb who’s related to you, so that makes you a dweeb too. It’s called genetics,” he says as he flips the envelope over and then frowns. “There’s no return address, nor is it postmarked. Scott, can you please grab the print kit from under my bunk?”

Scott returns moments later with the kit, handing Owen and me each a pair of gloves. “Whoever sent it didn’t want it traced back to them, which means they were careful. I doubt there will be prints on the envelope itself, but we might get lucky with the contents inside.”

“We have a camera over the entrance to Barbara’s office. It’s where we checked in. We could comb through the footage and see who dropped it off,” Vinny says.

I slip on the gloves and use my pocketknife to cut across the seam at the top. The only thing inside is a photo taken at night using a night vision lens. The image is green and somewhat grainy, but it’s clearly of a man wearing a coat, pack, and black ski mask entering what looks like an old mine. The timestamp is from a week ago, well before we arrived. Unfortunately, we can’t identify him from the photo.

A smile stretches across my face as we finally have a lead. I hand the picture to Angel, who passes it around. “I don’t know who sent this, but they’re clearly on our side. We need to find out where that mine is and do a little exploring.”

Vinny studies the picture. “Angel, does this look like the entrance to the abandoned Hemlock Mines ten miles west of here?”

Angel puts on a pair of gloves and scrutinizes the photo, pointing at two tiny letters in the corner of the dilapidated wooden frame around the opening. “I can’t be sure without a magnifying glass, but I’d bet my paycheck those initials are J.C. for Jordan Conway. I remember my brother carving them when we went exploring the tunnels. But the Hemlock Mines have been closed since the cave-in that happened during Jordan’s senior year. About fifty feet in, the tunnel is blocked off.”

“We should definitely find out if that’s still the case,” I say as I bounce on my toes. “We’ve been so busy looking for caves around Crater Lake and at higher elevations that the thought of searching west didn’t even occur to us. It wouldn’t be difficult to get a map of the mines and scout locations prior to an abduction. It’s a perfect spot to hide for a week!”

Owen goes over to his computer, and with a few keystrokes, the information for Hemlock Mines is glaring back at us. “It says here that there were 32 miles of tunnels before the mine officially closed in 1948. It was a major producer of gold during the rush in the 1850s. Due to the depleted metal deposits and unstable tunnel network, it was one of hundreds of mines closed because of safety concerns. In 2007, the east entrance collapsed, trapping three hikers for nearly a week and resulting in the deaths of Samuel Hollingsworth, Jolene Ayers, and Byron McGee.”

“That’s the collapse I was referring to,” Angel says. “They were day hikers who hadn’t told anyone where they were going, which is the worst thing you can do if you decide to take the risk and explore the mines. For the most part, the mines are relatively safe, but Oregon has nearly 53,000 fault lines ranging from only a few miles long to ones that span from California into Washington or Canada. On that day, there was a 2.3 earthquake—barely noticeable—that shifted the ground just enough for a support beam to come loose and drop several tons of rock near the entrance, trapping them underneath.”

Owen looks at me, his gaze becoming very pointed. “I can see it written all over your face, Daisy. You want to take the risk. I highly advise against it.”

“You know me so well,” I tease. “Look, when Angel and I go into the mines, you’ll know where we are. We’ll go in prepared for the worst and praying for the best. Someone sent us that picture for a reason.” Against my nature, my tone sounds like I’m begging when I add, “We need to find out why, and we’re running out of time.”

Hefting my Gregory pack onto my back, I ask, “Should we call Bennett and let him know what we’ve discovered?”

Angel checks the batteries in his flashlight before placing it in his bag, then double-checks that his headlamp is functioning properly. He hands me spare batteries for my headlamp, which I place in my side cargo pocket. “We haven’t discovered anything yet.”

I function-check my modified weapon before placing it in my thigh holster. If we come across the man in the photo, we want to question him. A simunition round to the leg should do the trick. “That’s not true. When we went back and checked the footage, we saw who delivered the envelope.”

“We didn’t see her face clearly,” Angel says. “It’s like she knew the camera was there and purposely avoided looking at it.”

I hold up my finger. “Yes! But we know it’s a female, not Kenneth or Brad!”

Owen comes over and hands me a map of the tunnels. “I want to go on record and say this is a horrifically horrible idea. It’s bad enough you want to explore the tunnels at all, but to do it at night?”

Angel steps in front of me, his posture protective. “I explored the tunnels plenty of times growing up and know my way around, including some of the tunnels that aren’t on the map and secret entrances that have been dug over the years. And while it is dangerous, it’s no more so than going rock climbing or bronc riding. Yet people do those things every day. The key is to tread carefully and be prepared.”

Owen doesn’t look even remotely satisfied by that explanation. “What if there’s another cave-in?”

I reach over my shoulder and tap the top of my pack. “Then we have supplies, and you know where to find us. You have our planned route.”

My brother hugs me awkwardly since I have the pack on my back and whispers in my ear. “I almost lost you once, Daisy Chain. I don’t want to ever go through that again. You hear me?”