She pushed it away, sending it bouncing and click-clacking against the rocks down the slope.

Who is it? Did the monster kill them?

Gasping for breath, she struggled to think.

Maybe the skull’s from the old mining days.

Fighting to keep calm, she told herself she’d seen a skull before in the anatomy classes she’d taken. But that was different.

This is someone’s grave! Oh God! No! Stop! I have to handle this! I have no choice! I have to keep going!

She took deep breaths, until the shock subsided. Then she checked her position, estimating that she was a third of the way to the top. She tightened her muscles and then resumed, her fingers delicately feeling for the most stable rocks.

Remaining prone on the incline, becoming used to the items under her in her pocket, she moved in small degrees to avoid triggering an avalanche. With every inch of progress, she kept her ears pricked up for bat sounds, checking that her hood was drawn tight in case of an attack.

At times, her foot or hand slipped, setting off a trickle of small stones flowing around her. She’d halt and hold her breath, until the threat of a slide passed. Then she’d continue.

I can do this. I’m going to crawl out of this hole.

As she climbed, she kept her eyes on the prize—the wooden sheets and beams woven together at the top. Tiny holes and cracks leaked light and hope. This was the gate to the surface, to freedom.

What if the top is secured or sealed?

She’d deal with getting through the top when she reached it. Right now, she focused on making slow, steady progress.

Sam was nearing the halfway point when she froze.

What was that?

A clicking.

Bats?

She held her breath.

There was a familiar, sickening grating. Then, a sudden undulation, as if the slope were alive, with a knocking and rumbling above her.

A river of stones rolled down.

God, no!

She was helpless. Nothing she could do to stop them tumbling, crashing into her, pummeling and hammering her head, her back, her arms, and her legs. The weight, the awful weight, crushing the breath from her before everything went black.

CHAPTER 44

Orleans, Northeast Kingdom, Vermont

McDade rode with Noble in his SUV.

The lead from the cookie-selling mom was significant enough for the trooper who’d followed it to alert the investigators.

“You have to see what we’ve got here,” he’d said in his text to Noble.

Noble had taken North Wolcott Road out of Waterbury. It was more than an hour to Orleans, and along the way he made calls while McDade studied case files, her attention returning to Cass and Gibby, or rather, Gina Rose Gangel and Ewing Gibson Spiker.

Look at their contact with Samantha Moore, at Spiker’s record, their mobility, their vehicle, she thought.