Page 62 of Silent Grave

"These tunnels are extensive," Peter said. "Miles of passages, hundreds of connecting chambers. Some which only I know about." He spoke as if giving a lecture, sharing interesting facts. "Have you considered how long someone could survive down here? With adequate food, water, air circulation?"

"Stop playing games," Finn said. "Tell us where she is."

"I designed this place carefully," Peter continued, ignoring him. "Multiple sealed chambers, each with its own independent air supply. Each one a perfect classroom for learning what darkness has to teach." His eyes found Sheila's. "Michelle is in one of those chambers. Safe. Comfortable, even."

He paused, studying them both. "For now. But these tunnels are treacherous. Unstable. One wrong step, one misplaced vibration..." He shrugged. "The mountain never sleeps, as the old miners used to say."

"He's bluffing," Finn said.

"I've spent decades learning these passages," Peter continued as if Finn hadn't spoken. "Every weak spot, every false floor, every section that could collapse with the slightest disturbance." His eyes found Sheila's. "Did you know that certain types of rock formations amplify vibrations? That a single misplaced footstep can trigger a chain reaction through the entire system?"

Sheila felt cold despite the stuffiness of the tunnel. They'd all heard stories of entire mine sections collapsing without warning, of rescue teams lost trying to reach trapped miners.

"You've already rigged certain sections," she said. It wasn't a question.

Peter smiled slightly. "My father taught me to be thorough. To plan for every contingency." He shifted in the cuffs. "You could search for days, weeks even. But how many people would you lose in the process? How many deputies and rescue workers would die trying to reach her?" His voice softened. "And in the end, would you even find her body?"

"We'll bring in mining experts," Finn said. "Engineers—"

"Who don't know these tunnels like I do. Who haven't spent years mapping every crack, every stress point, every deadly pocket of bad air." Peter's eyes gleamed in the flashlight beam. "The original miners, they had a saying: 'The mountain chooses who lives and who dies.' But in this case..." He smiled again. "I get to decide, don't I?"

Sheila studied his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all she saw was the calm certainty of a man who had planned for this very moment, who had prepared the darkness itself as his accomplice.

"What do you want?" she asked.

"Want? I want what I've always wanted—to help people understand what darkness can teach them." He shifted again, and something in his movement suggested he was far too comfortable for someone in handcuffs. "But if you take me away now, if you try to find her without my help... well." His voice remained gentle, almost kind. "I've seen what these tunnels can do to people who don't respect their power. Who don't understand their secrets."

"So, what, you want us to let you go?" Finn said with a snort. "You tell us where to go, and we just send you on your way?"

Peter laughed softly. "No. You misunderstand. I don't want to escape. I want to guide you." His eyes found Sheila's in the harsh flashlight beam. "I want you to experience the journey. To understand what I've created down here."

"You mean your torture chamber?" Finn's grip tightened on Peter's arms. "Your private little corner of hell?"

"Hell?" Peter smiled. "No. This is something far more profound. My father thought darkness was punishment. He was wrong. Darkness is a teacher. The most honest teacher there is." He shifted again, that same unsettling movement. "Take these cuffs off. Let me show you the true path to Michelle. Let me guide you through what I've spent decades learning."

"Not a chance," Sheila said.

"Then she dies." Peter's voice remained gentle, reasonable. "Maybe quickly, if she's lucky. Maybe slowly, if she wanders into one of the deeper chambers where the air goes bad. Or maybe..." He tilted his head. "Maybe she'll find one of the passages I've prepared. The ones that look solid until you're halfway through. The ones that collapse with just the right pressure in just the right place."

Sheila felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her like the mountain itself. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap, that Peter was manipulating them. But if he was telling the truth about the dangers…

"How do we know you won't lead us into one of those traps yourself?" she asked.

"Because I'll be with you," he said simply. "Everything I've built down here, every lesson I've designed—it requires a guide. A teacher." His eyes took on that zealot's gleam again. "Let me show you what I've learned. What the darkness has taught me."

Sheila studied him in the harsh beam of her flashlight, weighing impossible choices. Every instinct, every bit of training told her not to trust him. He was a killer, a madman who'd turned his own childhood trauma into a twisted religion of darkness.

But he also might be their only real chance of finding Michelle alive.

She thought about the mine's dangers—the unstable passages, the bad air pockets, the maze of tunnels that could trap searchers for days. Even with proper equipment and experienced teams, they'd lost people in rescue attempts before. And that was in sections they knew were safe.

Here, in Peter's domain, where he'd had decades to learn every deadly secret...

"Sheila, no," Finn said quietly, reading her expression. "We can find another way."

"Can we?" She kept her eyes on Peter. "How long would it take to bring in mining engineers? To map safe routes? To check every passage, every chamber?" She drew a deep breath of stale mine air. "How long before we're recovering a body instead of saving a life?"

"He'll lead us into a trap," Finn insisted. "This is exactly what he wants."

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