The Chevy took the corner off Highway 101 onto the Northwest Farm Road. Two more turns and several twists brought the black-and-white up behind Chief’s dusty Ford parked at the side of the road.

Chief released the dogs from the back seat and, taking harness in hand, followed them down a small embankment. Bailey, recognizing the scent of Gaylord, followed the trail, nose down, pulling Chief steadily after her. The embankment gave way to a narrow footpath. They took the path several hundred yards, and then broke free, traveling on untended ground, several miles more. The smell of mildew clung close to the ground with the rotting leaves of winter. Soon the fresh scents of spring would drive the compost stench away, as the forest renewed itself with clover and wild flowers.

Chief felt his boots sink into soft, wet earth. Several times he slid and had to catch his balance as the dogs propelled him ever farther into the dark wooded area known as the Grange. It was a six-mile trek into the woods following Mort’s trail. Chief kept aware of the sounds and movements around him, ever conscious that Blackney could be in the area ... ready to pounce. 

Birds screeched in the treetops, shattering the seclusion of the forest. He noticed the sound of large beating wings, as a crow or raven took to the air. Chief stared at where the large bird had disappeared behind the brush. A slight shiver came over him and he shook it off, continuing on his way. Once he caught sight of an owl gliding through the wood. It disappeared into a den carved into the trunk of a tree, a rat or baby squirrel clenched tightly in its talons.

At the end of the six miles, Chief pulled the dogs to heel.. The banyan dominated the middle of a small clearing, much of its root system exposed above the ground. The memories held him transfixed. He saw the boy, impaled. His blood, now congealed, ran the length of the pole that held him to the tree. Glass eyes stared at nothing above the boy’s twisted smile, forced by an unrelenting gag; the cloth never found. The images were vivid as though the slaughter had just taken place.

It was Bailey that brought him around. She and Milly began to tug harder at their leather leads; their objective had not been reached. They pulled Broden around the tree and behind it, their noses sniffing and spurting out dust and dirt. The trio continued into the woods following the same trail Moss and his hounds had followed three and a half hours earlier.

The dogs dragged Broden up against a cliff wall and there the trail mysteriously ended. Broden noticed the extra dust and debris, along with the large sharply jagged boulders and deduced the avalanche had been recent.

Removing the smaller boulders first, he cleared a path to the larger ones. The work was long and tiring. Even the April breezes failed to cool the sweat that covered him.

“Mort!” he hollered into the stone. “You in there?”

No answer. But the dogs gave him adequate reason to continue his digging. Chief worked on the wreckage until he uncovered two mammoth boulders flush with the rock wall. He put his shoulder to the first one and tried to force it aside. It was immovable. Impenetrable. He looked around for something to use as a lever.

He found what he needed at the edge of the trees– a sapling had overturned. Chief pulled it free and dragged it to the rock pile. He put a smaller stone under the tree to use as a fulcrum, before inserting the end of the sapling under the bigger of the two boulders, the one that completely blocked the opening of the cave that the dogs were sure existed.

“Is somebody out there!” The muffled plea came from behind the limestone.

In the background Chief detected barking. It was answered by barks from Milly and Bailey at his side and they began to dig at the clutter of debris.

“It’s Bob, Mort. I’m going to get you out!”

“Hurry,” came and answer. “We’re running out of air.”

At that Chief strained harder on the lever, but still no action from the boulder.

“It’s too heavy, Mort. I’ll need to get help.”

“No time.” Chief heard coughing.

“Dammit!” whispered Chief to himself and again strained at the lever.

The boulder would not budge.

Sweat dripped from his face as he frantically and desperately tried to pry the boulder loose. The boulder started up, slowly… an inch… two inches. Then the lever snapped in two, sending Chief stumbling backwards.

“God Dammit!” he yelled, as he pulled free of the dirt. Behind him he sensed movement. He wheeled around, his colt revolver gripped firmly in his right hand, just as Billy blundered out of the woods running full force towards him, controlled by hysteria. Animalistic growls and grunts broke free from Billy’s lips- tears streamed his face. He grabbed Chief’s lever and attempted to dragged Chief away from his task.

“Billy let go!” 

Billy whipped his head back and forth gesturing “no” emphatically. Violently he shoved Chief to the ground, knocking the colt from his hand.

“Billy, listen to me!” Chief pleaded.

“Bob!”

Billy turned to the stone. Then he turned on Chief. Anger and fear pushed its way into his face. His hands became fists of rage, clenching and unclenching.

“NNNNYe,” he screamed at Chief. “NNNNNYYeed.”

“Billy I need your help,” Chief told him, keeping his voice calm. He pushed himself off the ground; retrieved and holstered the colt and tried to make his way back to the rock pile. But Billy grabbed him by the arm and held him tightly. Chief could already feel the bruises rising under the young man’s fingers.

“Billy, listen to me!” roared Chief Broden. His face was becoming red with his own fit anger. “Dammit! It’s not what you think. Mort is in there!”

Billy didn’t relent. He tried to drive Chief back down and away from the cave. “Gaylord’s in there too!”

At that Billy softened his grip. Chief yanked his arm free. Up until this moment Milly and Bailey looked on, merely watching the action between both humans as their “master-for-life” argued and fought with their “master-for-the-day.” They were confused. But at the mention of Gaylord, their ears perked up and they ran to the entrance of the cave. They began to howl into the impassable stone. Their howl was answered by a muffled half-choking howl back.

“Bob! You still there?”

“Billy I need your help to get them out,” Chief said softly.

Billy's anger washed away, replaced by worry. The fear, however, did not subside.

“Trust me, son,” Chief said. “Whatever they told you was a lie– to control you, Billy. To keep you quiet all these years. No one, but the dogs and Mort, is locked in that cave. If we don’t get them out now, they’ll die. Do you understand?”

Billy stared.

“We have to do it now,” Chief emphasized. Then in a much softer tone, one full of concern, he added, “I’ll help you sort it out later.”

At that Billy moved to clear Chief’s passage and allowed him to pass to the cave.

“Mort!” Chief called once back at the boulder. “Mort, are you all right in there?”

“Hurry up god-dammit,” was his answer. “What are you doing out there?!”

“Getting you out you ungrateful bastard,” Chief yelled back, then he turned to Billy. “We need something to use as a lever.” He pointed to his broken sapling. “Something like that, but stronger.”

Billy nodded and proceeded to look around. He hunted the fringes of the woods with Chief until Chief stumbled upon a second log, much thicker and stronger than the first.

“Billy!” he called. “Over here.”

With Billy’s help, Chief dragged the log back to the cave. He set a second rock up as a fulcrum and laid the log across, digging the end far beneath the boulder. He instructed Billy to push against the boulder, while he worked the lever himself. Little by little the boulder eased up. One inch... two inches. With each progressive inch, Billy moved lower on the boulder, pushing against it with his incredible strength, while Chief pushed down hard on the lever with all of his own strength. Between the two of them, they were able to slide the boulder up and roll it to the side- not far, only a couple of feet, but it was far enough. The cave entrance gaped open, only partly obscured by mangled shrubs and weeds.

“Stay here, Billy,” Chief instructed as he stooped to enter the cave.

Moss lay unconscious in the narrow tunnel which connected the bowels of the cave to the outside world. Chief looked up when he heard scuffing noises and saw one of the dogs crawling towards him, whimpering gently. The air was thick, stale and hard to breathe, Chief had to turn continuously towards the entrance to fill his lungs with fresh air. He took hold of Mort’s hands and edged backwards, dragging the unconscious man with him. He pulled him out through the tunnel and into the light of day. He watched as Mort’s heaving chest relaxed as his lungs began to draw oxygen more easily.

Chief looked up at Billy. “Go get your dogs,” he said quietly.

Billy nodded and retreated into the hole, trepidation in his manner.

After Billy left, Chief tapped Moss lightly on the face to bring him around. He wished he had a bucket of water to dump on him at this point. It would serve the idiot right.

“Mort, wake up,” he said as he tapped. Behind him Billy emerged with the first of the two hounds. Gaylord. He panted heavily as Billy laid him down. Milly and Bailey ran to him and began licking at his face and muzzle. Their affection was answered by sharp growls. Billy returned to the cave a second time, Chief could only guess at the courage Billy had to summon to enter, but he did it for his dogs. His love for the hounds far outweighed his fear of the cave. 

Mort’s eyes fluttered open as Billy re-emerged carrying the second dog. This dog, unlike Gaylord, was unconscious. Moss breathed deeper, half-choking on the air as he drew it in his lungs.

He tried to sit up, but became dizzy and fell back down. He lay there with his eyes pointed to the sky; then he turned them on Chief.

“You ...took... long enough,” he half choked out.

Chief smiled at him. “Serves you right. What the hell were you thinking– going after Fred alone.”

“Think about it...Rob... If you.. had… been along, we both…would have...been choking on dust. Hell, two of us...the air would have lasted...half as long. Face it, if I had…waited...for you...we both would’ve been dead.” Moss’s words came in spurts, stabbed with fits of coughing, as he fought to draw a breath between them.

“Why don’t you shut up and breathe,” Chief said as he assessed Moss’s injuries. Moss was cut in many places; blood ran from them in bright red streams. He had a large gash across his forehead accompanied by a blue-black bruise the size of an orange. His arms and face were an infusion of black-blue and purple blotches. 

“Anything broken?” Chief asked as Moss’s breathing stabilized.

“Don’t think so,” Moss whispered out. “Help me up.”

Chief helped Moss to a seated position.

Across the clearing Billy sat with his dogs at his side. Gaylord had completely recovered; the other dog remained groggy. Moss looked at him. Then he glanced at the cave and the boulder that rested just beside it to the right.

“I see what the problem was, my friend,” he said after deliberation.

“I never would have been able to manage that boulder without Billy, there.”

“I bet you had a hell of a time convincing him to move it.”

“How’d you know?”

“Me and the lad will sit guard out here, Bob. Why don’t you have a look for yourself?”

Chief eyed Moss, “That important, is it?”

“Yep.”

Chief rose and started towards the cave.

“You’ll need these, said Moss tossing him the matchbook.

“Thanks." Chief took the matches and returned to the cave.Once inside, Chief had no trouble locating the torch Moss had left behind, it’s end still smoldered. He lit it and continued through the tunnel into the small cave. He noticed the paintings on the walls and recognized them as Moss had. He examined the contents of the cave as well and noticed the boulders blocking the far end. It was clear Fred made this cave his home from the beginning, by the case of empty whiskey bottles. Chief looked around and noticed some charred wood scattered among the debris at the cave’s entrance, evidence of a fire.

The oxygen level of the cave, was low and consequently Chief’s own flame did not burn quite as brightly as Moss's had. Most of the detail in the paintings and their overall composition was lost to heavy shadow.

“He was living there all this time,” he said to Moss when he cleared the rock.

“My guess.”

“I’d be willing to bet on the other side of those boulders in the back, is a long tunnel,” Chief stated, his expression grim. “I’d go as far as guess it connects up with the quarry tunnel system. They went by underground to the tree for their sacrifice of the boy.” Chief glanced at Billy. “Billy probably saw them either coming out or going in- that’s why he’s not too fond of this cave.”

“Yep. I noticed that too. I bet the system honeycombs underneath the Grange. It’s why Jonas could disappear so easily when we were hunting him.”

“The paintings are the same as on the boys,” Chief said. He noticed Billy out of the corner of his eye; the boy’s attention was riveted on him.

“Yes,” answered Moss. “It also proves a theory of mine in which nobody, with the possible exception of Billy there, believed. That Jonas did not act alone. Those deaths were the result of cult driven, ritualistic murder, not the work of a couple of serial killers making a pact. The case should never have been closed.”

Chief looked at Billy, then back at Moss. “For what its worth, I believed your theory,” he said. He rubbed the back of his neck and let his eyes survey the woods. Then he turned back in the direction of the cave. He stared at it a while before returning to Moss. “You think Fred was a member?”

Moss’s answer surprised him. “No. I think his parents were members… it explains the nature of his childhood abuse. They were molding him. But the cult I researched indoctrinated its members on their thirteenth birthday. His parents were killed before that day.”

“And their practices are what drove him over the edge–”

“He killed them to keep from being like them. To keep from having to be forced into the cult,” Moss looked at the cave. “He came here because he felt safe, a certain amount of... Hell, I guess the word is power. A certain amount of power to keep him safe.” Moss turned to Chief. “Keep him safe from Kelly. Her magic, or power wouldn’t work in this hellhole, Bob. The black magic of the cave would preclude that. He buried me there to keep the cave a secret, to keep from having its power broken. He couldn’t run the risk of rushing me with the dogs here.”

Chief stared at him, his brows turning together in a powerful squint. “I see,” he said. Then asked. “So you think he’ll come back?”

“Not a chance,” Moss said shaking his head. “He’s out there, Bob. Watching us. He knows you got me out. He knows that the cave’s magic was broken by intruders. And Bob,” Moss paused.

“What?”

“He’s blaming Kelly.”

“How the hell could you know all this!” Chief finally shouted exasperated.

“You said it before. He thinks she’s tuned into him– The keeper of the power. How could anyone find him unless they had her help? It’s the reason he chose this hole in the first place. Now her power had superseded that of the cave- and consequently that of the cult.”

Chief squinted at Moss. “You did it...just like with Jonas. You’re locked in.”

Moss swallowed sharply. “So to speak. I soaked as much of him up as I could stand in that cave, before the walls came down.” Moss paused. He turned to the cave entrance and took a deep breath. 

“And?”

Moss looked at Chief sharply. He shook his head.

“What?”

“I didn’t like what I saw- hell, Bob. He’s like a wounded animal- only the wounds are not physical. They’re psychological. I felt the pain- it’s almost worse than Jonas. At least Jonas knew what drove him. I don’t think this tiger knows. There was a hell of a lot of rage trapped in that tiny space. I think I know why he wants her, Bob.”

“Why?” Chief asked sternly.

“Her power, as demonstrated today, was stronger than that of the cult. I believe he wants it to destroy them.”
“That’s asinine! She has nothing to do with them. One has nothing to do with the other!”

“To him it does, Bob. He’s made a connection. To catch him we must discover that connection. Remember the note?”

Chief looked at him sharply. “Power to cut out the cancer and destroy the Hell Dog,” Chief muttered.

“Her Power, Bob.”

Chief stared at him. “You got all that from a cave?”

Moss looked up into his eyes. “Of course not. I only put everything we’ve learned so far, including the transcripts in perspective with the impressions left in that cave. I’m worried, my friend." 

“Worried?”

“I think the cult is his motivation. Somehow, this case is connected to that one... He’s made a connection, and we need to find out what that is...” Moss bit his lip.

“What?” Chief asked.

“The hairs at the back of my neck are standing. I don’t like it.”

Chief nodded. He looked away at the cave and the debris that decorated its entrance. “I don’t either, Mort. Look what I have at stake.”

“He’s set his plan in motion. We better walk on eggshells from now on and keep that daughter of yours in sight at all times.”

“Behind lock and key, Mort?”

“Yes.”

“This stinks. She doesn’t deserve this.”

“It’s not a question of–”

“I know!” Chief cut him off. His eyes blazed.

Moss sighed and turned away. “I’m going to have a friend at the agency send down our files from the Jonas investigation. Maybe they’ll help us figure this thing out. Maybe shed some light on what his final purpose really is about. He was obviously influenced by the group. Maybe there’s something they did or believed, that he twisted into this obsession he has over your daughter. Why he thinks she is the key to his survival. He had to get the notion from somewhere, Bob.”

“When will the files get here?”

“I’d say Wednesday, if I call him today and convince him to send them at all. I'm not with the agency anymore, remember? And I didn't leave on the best of terms.”

“If he can, have them sent to my address, we’ll go through them there. At least I’ll be able to keep an eye on Kelly that way.”

Moss nodded. He rolled onto the balls of his feet and stood. He felt a little shaky, but resisted Chief’s effort to help. Then, all three men retreated into the woods, the dogs trailing.

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