I made a quick scan of my surroundings then shined the light on the platform below, and saw the backpack. With one more look above and a couple Hail Marys, I crept over the side of the entrance to Hades. Fred was watching me from above, and the reflection I saw in his eyes reminded me once more of Cerberus guarding the gates of Hell. I removed the slack from the cable, and pushed the button to lower me down.

I was less than four feet from the backpack when my flashlight went dead. Then the winch jammed. Was someone up there? No, Fred would have barked if there was. It had to be Murphy and the luck of the Irish. I had wound the cable around my waist and secured my foot in a small loop at the bottom where a hook was attached to the end of the cable. I let the cable spin me around, freeing me from its grasp, and then pulled myself up enough to free my foot before lowering myself to the floor below. Still holding on to my lifeline, I tentatively put my weight on the platform, testing to see if it would collapse on me like the floor above had on the kids. It seemed to be solid enough to hold my two hundred pounds.

With one hand free of the cable, I smacked the flashlight against my thigh and said another prayer. I really wanted to swear, but knew my guardian angel might take offense. She must have liked what she heard, for the flashlight flickered back to life.

The backpack was within reach so I grabbed it, put its straps around my arms, and started climbing up the cable. The cable wasn’t much different than the rope we had been required to climb so many years ago in gym class. I hadn’t forgotten how to use my feet, hands, and arms to slowly inch my way to the top. But it was much thinner than those old ropes, which made it far more difficult to climb. Nor did those old ropes hurt nearly as badly as the wire fibers that cut into my hands when I grasped a frayed strand.

I finally emerged from the dark pit with bloody hands and more fatigued than if I had run a marathon. The altitude and the extra weight I’d put on lately had taken its toll. I was exhausted. All I wanted to do was lie down to catch my breath, but something was wrong. Fred should have been there waiting for me. I had been holding the flashlight in my mouth, so I grasped it with my right hand, because of the metal slivers in my left, and scanned my surroundings, looking for my dog. Then everything went dark.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Julie was wiping my forehead with a wet cloth and kissing me at the same time. “Wake up, Jake, or you’ll freeze up here. Please, honey, please wake up.”

I slowly opened my eyes, “Julie! Is it really you?”

She barked then wiped my face some more.

“Fred!” I shouted when I started to come to. “Where’s Julie?” Then I realized I’d been dreaming, and felt a terrible pain in my arm and the back of my head.

I sat up and reached for Fred, but yelled when the pain shot down my arm from the shoulder. Fred backed away for a moment then came back with his tail between his legs.

“What happened, boy? God, I wish you could talk. Did you get hit too?” I looked around to see if we were alone. I couldn’t have been unconscious for long, for it was still dark with no hint of a rising sun shining its light into the mine. If not for my flashlight still burning, we would have been in total darkness.

Holding my sore shoulder with my right hand, I reached for the light with my left. It only seemed to hurt if I lifted my arm too high, which I did, and yelled again. Actually, it was more of a whimper because I didn’t scare Fred this time. “Can you get the flashlight, Freddie?”

He barked then licked me some more. It had been worth a try even though I really didn’t think he’d understand. Then it hit me why my arm was hurting. The backpack was gone. Whoever took it must have torn the straps off my arms and nearly taken my arm with it. That narrowed it down to someone quite strong, so I could rule out the little old lady who broke into Bonnie’s.

Fred wasn’t going to get the flashlight for me and it wasn’t going to come to me no matter how much I pleaded, so I reached out for it with my good arm. To my surprise, Fred went over and picked it up before I could. I’m sure he thought it was some kind of stick.

“Good, boy,” I said when he brought it back to me. I reached out to rub his neck before taking the flashlight from him and felt something sticky.

“What’s this, Freddie?” I asked, shining the light on his neck. His entire neck and face were covered with an oily orange substance.

Fred let out a cry and backed away from me when I shined the light in his eyes. “It’s okay, Freddie,” I said ever so softly after noticing his eyes were red and puffy. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

He looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve seen outside a seal exhibit.

I went back to my examination of Fred then realized why my eyes were watering. No wonder he didn’t sound the alarm before I was knocked out; someone had pepper sprayed him.

***

Bonnie wasn’t the least bit upset when I called her early Wednesday morning to tell her we would be late picking her up from her sister’s. “It’s okay, Jake. Margot is taking me shopping at the Cherry Creek Mall, and I was going to call you anyway.” She didn’t ask why I would be late and I didn’t offer an excuse.

“Why don’t you wait a couple days before coming to get me? We’re going to the Botanic Gardens tomorrow and maybe the museum. I’d forgotten how much there is to do down here. Oh, I almost forgot. Could I ask you for a big favor?”

“Sure, Bon.” I tried not to sound too relieved.

“Would you mind picking up my mail for me? Margot’s been telling me how I shouldn’t leave it sitting out on the road because anyone can steal my identity now-a-days.” She was referring to how our mailboxes were half a mile from our homes, stuck down on Upper Bear Creek Road, where anyone could help themselves.

“No problem, Bon. Just call me when you’re ready to come home.” I knew it might be sooner than later for it was a rare week when she and Margot didn’t end up fighting about something. But it should be enough time, without Bonnie tagging along, for me to find Craig Renfield and make him pay for nearly breaking my arm and pepper spraying my dog. It didn’t take a PI license to know who owned the old Toyota up on Mosquito Pass.

***

This time I didn’t park in Casa Bonita’s lot, and drove straight to Renfield’s house on Saulsbury. Like Cory and Jennifer’s house two doors down, it had seen better days. I could see several shingles missing and the paint on its clapboard siding was faded and peeling. Several of the single-pane windows were broken and their screens ripped so they looked like miniature flags flapping in the wind.

Fred followed me to the front door where I had to knock because the doorbell button was hanging by a single wire, and clearly not working. I could feel my rage building and, fantasized about blowing his head off with my shotgun. That wasn’t going to happen because I didn’t bring it, but I quickly improvised and imagined myself punching him in the face then knocking him to the ground where I’d stomp on his head until he stopped breathing. He had to be fifty pounds lighter and four inches shorter than me, so I’m sure I’d come out ahead if this didn’t go well, even though I was ten years older.

“Well, if it isn’t Timmy and Lassie. What are you two doing here?” Craig asked when he answered his door, holding a baseball bat in his hand.

I checked my anger at the site of his weapon. “Do you mind telling me where you were yesterday?”

“I asked first,” he said. His upper lip rose a couple millimeters. I’d seen Fred do the same before going after Chatter.