“Right. Continue.”
“Here’s where it gets really interesting,” Cage said. “We followed one of the tunnels, and after about an hour, we came upon another large chamber. And this one had indications of recent use.”
“How recent?” That was from Smoke.
“Recent enough to warrant further investigation,” Church said, flicking his eyes Mad Dog’s way.
Before he could ask what that was all about, Cage continued, “It’ll take weeks to fully explore everything. We’re going to take GPS trackers down with us next time. That way, we’ll be able to map out exactly which chambers and tunnels are open and which aren’t. And bonus: we’ll be able to integrate that with the digital maps we already have and superimpose those with a current satellite map of the area.”
“Fuck, I think Cage just came a little,” Heff commented.
They ignored him.
“I want in,” Doc said.
Mad Dog nodded in agreement. The thought of exploring an underground network was fascinating. Plus, they weren’t the types to sit around indoors while waiting for the spring thaw. They were chomping at the bit to go out and do something.
Church nodded in approval. “Teams of two. No one goes down there alone, feel me? And we’ll need someone topside at all times to monitor and coordinate.”
Unsurprisingly, Smoke—who had been in a tunnel collapse overseas and had an aversion to tight, closed spaces—offered to stay aboveground. Heff said he would as well.
Briefing over, the guys started filing out. Mad Dog hung back to give the completed designs to Church.
He looked them over and handed them back. “Looks good. Write up a list of everything we’ll need and place an order. I’d like to have everything on hand when the weather breaks. As for the fitness center, let’s bring in Kieran Callaghan and Michael Connelly and hear their thoughts before we commit. Callaghan runs a place in Pine Ridge, and Connelly’s got a string of health, fitness, and rehab centers nationwide. Both are former military, so they’ll have valuable input.”
“Sounds good to me. Now, tell me what’s really on your mind, Church.”
His lips quirked briefly. Mad Dog had been around him long enough to know when he was holding back.
“Those indications of recent use I mentioned? Well, we found footprints in the dirt, coming and going.”
“What makes you think they’re recent?”
“The tread.”
That made sense. Boots made a century ago hadn’t had the same patterns as those made more recently.
“And?”
“And some were obviously male. Others suggest an adult female.”
Church hesitated, and Mad Dog knew where he was headed. It pissed him off.
“And you immediately assume they’re Kate’s?”
“I’m not assuming anything. Kate admitted to exploring the tunnels. She also told you that very few people knew about them, but clearly, someone does. If it’s not her roaming around down there—”
“It’s not.”
“Then, maybe she knows who is.”
“So, what if she does?” he grumbled, thinking how Kate had been so quick to change the subject. “I can’t ask her without arousing suspicion. She’ll wonder why I’m asking, and I’m guessing you don’t want me to tell her.”
“No,” Church agreed. “But you could tell her that Doc has a fascination with local mining history and ask if she’d be willing to share some of her stories with him.”
A growl rumbled in the back of his throat as that possessiveness rose up again. He didn’t want Kate sharing stories with anyone but him.
“And you, of course,” Church said with a hint of a smirk.
“I’ll think about it.”
Church nodded. “Fair enough.”
Mad Dog’s stomach rumbled, reminding him that it needed more than the bowl of instant oatmeal he’d had earlier. He’d been keeping to his trailer the last couple of days, and as such, his food supplies were running low. He was going to have to take another run into town and soon. Hopefully, that trip would also involve some time with Kate.
With that in mind, he set a course for the kitchen. The center island in the dining room had already been cleared, but Sam always kept something hot and ready for stragglers. He identified and spotted his target immediately—a large, covered, rectangular bin on the counter—and headed right for it.
“Hey, Mad Dog.” Sam emerged from the walk-in freezer, carrying an armload of wrapped packages.
“Sam.” He altered his route and provided assistance. “Dinner?”
“Yep. Thought we’d try spare ribs tonight. Kate sent me a super-easy recipe.”
That was news to him. “You’ve been talking with Kate?”
“Yep. She sends me pictures of the puppies every day and gives me meal ideas. You were right about that, by the way. She’s got some amazing recipes. I bet she could open up her own restaurant if she wanted to.”
Based on the meals she’d shared with him, he heartily concurred. He grabbed a plate and scooped copious amounts of fried potatoes and hash onto it.
Sandy entered the kitchen, laptop in hand, looking more relaxed and happier than she had been only a few weeks earlier. Heff had claimed most of the credit for that, but Mad Dog thought some of it had to do with Sandy finding her niche. She was doing what she loved to do in an environment that allowed her to do so at her pace.
“Are you talking about Kate?” Sandy asked.
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “I was just telling Mad Dog how I wish I had half her culinary skill.”
“Rico tried to coax her into working for him at Franco’s several times,” Sandy said, nodding, providing another bit of information with which he’d been unaware. “Kate always thanked him but told him she already had a job. Which reminds me, I need to call her when things settle down a bit.”
“Why?” Mad Dog asked, taking a seat.
“I want to talk to her about possibly revamping Handelmann’s website. Now that I’ve decided to give self-employment a try, I’m reaching out to all the local businesses.”
“Good idea. Maybe we can kill a few birds with one stone,” Sam commented and then turned to him. “When are you going to see Kate again?”
“I don’t know.”
Both women paused and exchanged a look, and then Sam narrowed her eyes. “Did something happen? Is that why you’ve been hiding out in your trailer all week?”
“Nothing happened, and I have not been hiding out. I’ve been busy.”
“Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him.
His mother used to give him the same look when she suspected he wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“Sam, nothing’s wrong. Kate and I are just”—hell, he didn’t know what they were doing—“figuring things out.”
“What’s there to figure out? You like her. She obviously likes you.”
“It’s not that simple, Sam,” Sandy said thoughtfully. “It should be, but it’s not.”
“No, but I’m not sure it matters. It didn’t to us.” Sam looked at Mad Dog. “Whose idea was it to back off? Hers or yours?”