The rumble from above was a growl of warning, a beast disturbed in its lair. Normandy and I exchanged a glance, the same thought mirrored in our eyes. We had to move, and fast.
As we scrambled over the rocky terrain, my hand brushed against the miner’s skeletal remains. Something caught my eye—a glint of metal half-buried in the dirt. I picked it up, dusting off the grime to reveal a tarnished key. The realization hit me like a punch to the gut. This was no ordinary miner. This was a man who knew secrets, secrets worth killing for.
Another rumble shook the mine shaft, louder this time. The ground beneath us gave way, opening into a sinkhole that led to another shaft. As I shone my flashlight into the abyss, the walls glittered back at me. Not with the dull gleam of coal, but with the unmistakable sparkle of diamonds. A secret mine shaft, worth a fortune.
With a shared nod, Normandy and I began our descent into the newly revealed shaft. The air grew colder as we climbed down, the silence broken only by the occasional drip of water echoing in the vast emptiness.
Our lights danced over the rocky walls until they landed on a chilling sight—bones. Not just any bones, but the delicate, unmistakable skeleton of a woman. Charla.
The sight of her remains was a punch to the psyche, a grim confirmation of our worst fears. But it also brought a sense of grim satisfaction. We had found her. We had found the truth.
Suddenly, everything clicked into place. The dead miner, the secret diamond mine, Charla’s disappearance—they were all connected. The miner had lured Charla here, to this secret mine, and murdered her. But why? Greed? Fear? A desperate attempt to keep his secret?
Before we could ponder further, another rumble echoed through the mine, louder and more ominous than before. Dust and debris rained down on us as the walls of the mine began to shake. A cave-in.
“We need to get out of here, now!” Normandy shouted over the roar of the collapsing mine. But even as we scrambled to escape, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. We had uncovered the truth, exposed the skeletons that had been hidden in the dark.
As we emerged into the daylight, battered but alive, I knew our work was far from over. The truth had been revealed, but justice was yet to be served.
Suddenly the mine began to collapse completely, our gruesome discovery being buried beyond recover except for the key, a key that belonged to a safety deposit box.
As we started back into town a shot rang out…
The echo of the gunshot reverberated through the air. I instinctively ducked, my heart pounding in my chest. Normandy was quicker, her service pistol already in her hand. She fired back, aim true. A cry of pain confirmed the hit, but the shooter was already disappearing into the dense forest.
“Normandy, did you see who it was?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the ringing in my ears.
“No,” she replied, her eyes scanning the tree line. “But they won’t get far. I hit them.”
As if on cue, the sound of an ATV engine roared to life, its noise cutting through the eerie silence that had fallen. We watched as it sped away, the green and black camouflage blending into the foliage. It was too far to make out the make or the driver, but the direction was clear.
“We need to follow them,” I said, determination steeling my voice. Normandy nodded, her face grim.
“Yes, but carefully,” she warned. “They’re desperate and wounded. That makes them dangerous.”
She put out an APB then said, “Let’s see who that bank box key belongs to. My guess Bard is that we are about to open a very smelly can of worms.”
The APB had turned up the ATV, abandoned and smeared with blood, but the wounded driver was nowhere to be found. The local police were on high alert, checking every hospital and clinic in the area. Whoever it was, they couldn’t have gotten far with a bullet wound.
At the bank, Normandy and I presented our warrant to the bank manager, a nervous man who kept wringing his hands. He led us to a private room where he opened the safety deposit box that matched the key we had found. The box belonged to the Jewel Lake Mining Collective, a group of investors who had staked a 99-year claim on the area of the mine. Inside the box was a large pouch filled with raw diamond samples, their facets catching the light and throwing rainbows on the walls.
But the real surprise was the name of the CEO of the Collective - Stanton Lagrow. “He was mayor 20 years ago, just before the mine closed down,” I said, a grim smile playing on my lips. “The plot’s was thickening, and the stakes were higher than ever, pun intended.”
Normandy looked at me, her eyes hard. “This is bigger than we thought, Bard. We’re not just dealing with a murder here. This is about power, greed, and a whole lot of diamonds.”
As we left the bank, I couldn’t help but feel a dark thrill. We were peeling back layers of secrets, delving into a world of deceit and betrayal. And at the heart of it all was a skeleton in a secret diamond mine that had miraculously just caved in probably set off by some guy on an ATV with a bullet in him.
The truth was within our grasp, and I was determined to bring it to light, no matter what. But first, we had a wounded, desperate shooter to catch. And something told me they wouldn’t go down without a fight.
As we stepped out into the cool afternoon air, I felt a chill run down my spine. We’d dug some skeletons were out of the closet, ready to tell their tales. All we had to do was learn to speak skeleton.
Back at my desk, the adrenaline of the day was starting to wear off, replaced by the dull ache of bruises and the sting of scrapes. The office was quiet, the only sound the steady tick of the clock and the scratch of my pen on paper as I began to draft the story for the weekly paper. The tale of the secret diamond mine, the skeletal remains, and the mystery of the wounded shooter—it was a story that needed to be told.
As I sat there, reflecting on the case, the door to the office suddenly burst open. A man stumbled in, his clothes torn and bloodied. He collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath. My heart pounded in my chest as I recognized him—Stanton Lagrow, the CEO of the Jewel Lake Mining Collective.
“Sweet mother of pearl!” I exclaimed, jumping to my feet. “What in the name of all that’s holy happened to you?”
But Lagrow was unconscious, his breath coming in ragged gasps. I reached for the phone, dialing the emergency number with shaking hands. As I waited for the operator to pick up, I couldn’t help but think, “The skeletons were ready to dance.”
“Operator? I need an ambulance,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos. “And you’d better send the police too. We’ve got ourselves a hell of a story here.”
After giving all the pertinent info I hung up and checked for a bullet wound. But there wasn’t one. The old mayor seemed to have his own set of troubles. I his unconscious state he grasped, “Charla!”
