Page 63 of Silent Grave

"Of course it is," she said. "But right now, I don't see another choice." To Peter, she said, "If we do this—if we let you guide us—you try anything, make one wrong move, and I'll put you down without hesitation. Understand?"

Peter's smile was almost gentle. "Perfectly, Sheriff. Now take off these cuffs, and we can begin."

Finn laughed humorlessly. "Not a chance."

"Then you'll never find her," Peter replied. "These tunnels require careful navigation. Sometimes you need to squeeze through narrow spaces, climb over unstable sections." He kept his voice reasonable, calm. "You can leave them on, of course. But then I won't be able to show you the safe paths. Won't be able to help you avoid the traps."

"He's manipulating us," Finn said to Sheila. "The second those cuffs come off—"

"I'll be free to show you where to go," Peter said. "And frankly, I'm not going to take another step until you remove them. I hope poor Michelle isn't suffering."

A scream echoed through the tunnels—distant, distorted, but unmistakably human. Michelle.

"Time is becoming a factor," Peter said softly. "The longer we debate, the more likely she is to panic. To try finding her own way out." He shifted again, the cuffs clinking softly. "These tunnels are like a living thing. They sense fear. Respond to it. One wrong step by a frightened person..."

"Shut up," Finn snapped, but Sheila heard the uncertainty in his voice.

She ran through their options quickly. If they kept him cuffed, he wouldn't help them. And he was right about the physical requirements of navigation—she could already see places where they'd need full mobility to pass safely.

"Here's what's going to happen," she said finally. "We take the cuffs off, but you stay between us. One wrong move, one step out of line, and you get a bullet. Clear?"

"Crystal." Peter's smile remained eerily calm.

"Sheila, please," Finn said quietly. "We can't trust him."

"We don't have a choice." She kept her weapon trained on Peter while Finn reluctantly unlocked the cuffs. And we don't have to trust him, she added mentally. We just have to be ready when he makes his move.

The cuffs came off. Peter brought his hands forward slowly, rubbing his wrists.

"Now," he said, "shall we begin your first lesson?"

CHAPTER THIRTY

Peter gestured toward one of the darker tunnels. "Michelle chose this path initially. Tried to find her own way out." He shook his head sadly. "They always run at first. Always think they can escape the darkness on their own. But darkness isn't something you escape. It's something you learn to embrace."

"Move," Sheila ordered, ignoring his philosophical ramblings. "Slowly. Stay where we can see you."

Peter started forward, his movements confident despite the uneven ground. Sheila followed close behind, keeping her light and weapon trained on him. Finn brought up the rear, his own flashlight beam sweeping the tunnel walls for any sign of threat.

The tunnel narrowed slightly, forcing them to walk single file. Peter moved with the confidence of someone who'd walked these paths thousands of times. His hand occasionally brushed the wall, touching crosses carved into the rock—some old, some newer, each one marking something only he understood.

"You're wondering if I'm lying," Peter said as they continued deeper. "If these dangers are real or just another manipulation." He stopped at a junction where three tunnels branched away into darkness. "Would you like me to prove it?"

"What we'd like," Finn said from behind them, "is for you to shut up and keep moving."

"The left tunnel looks most promising, doesn't it?" Peter gestured with his chin. "Slopes upward, suggests a path to the surface. The kind of route a scared young woman might choose." He smiled slightly. "Would you like to see what happens when someone takes that path?"

Before either of them could stop him, he picked up a rock and tossed it into the left tunnel. The sound of it bouncing echoed strangely, then—

A rumble shook the passage. Rocks clattered down from above as a section of the left tunnel collapsed, sending clouds of dust billowing toward them.

"You see?" Peter remained calm despite the chaos. "The mountain remembers its wounds. Old collapses, abandoned dig sites, places where support beams have rotted through." He turned to face them, dust settling on his shoulders. "How many rescue workers would you have lost trying to search these tunnels without my guidance?"

"Move," Sheila ordered, but her voice held less conviction now. The collapse had proven at least some of what he'd been saying about the dangers.

They took the right tunnel, descending deeper into the mountain. The air grew cooler, heavy with mineral scents and decades of darkness. Peter touched more crosses as they walked, almost like a Catholic making the sign of the cross for protection.

"My father's first lesson lasted three days," he said conversationally. "He chained me to a support beam and left me in complete darkness. Said it would teach me to fear God." He laughed softly. "But I learned something else instead. Something about darkness itself."

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