Out of the Depths - By Pamela Hearon Page 0,7

past nine years, but this site hadn’t changed one bit.

With that assurance, she armed herself with her camera bag and backpack and headed through the woods. Her heart pumped fast. She loved being outdoors on a mission, a world of possibilities before her.

Dew still clung to the leaves underfoot, and she made the passage almost in silence. Even if she hadn’t been able to see the lake as she climbed the hill toward the gray limestone bluff, she would’ve known it was there. Mist lay low in places where the sun hadn’t yet reached, and a pungent fishy odor hung in the air.

She’d often heard people complain about the stench. Not her. To her, it smelled like home. The lakes. The rivers. Any time she was in Paducah, she drove to the foot of Broadway below the flood wall for a glimpse of the Ohio and Tennessee Rivers that converged there. If she was down or feeling low, she only needed that sight to feel soothed. As long as the rivers were still there, everything would be okay.

The thought put a spring in her step as she mounted the steep incline to the bluff. Coming to the cave this morning was the right thing to do. She could feel it. She would get her photos and get this job. The date with Rick was a sign.

Kyndal crossed the ridge to the plateau that held the entrance to the cave and stopped dead in her tracks, reading the large signs posted to nearby trees. No Trespassing! Violators Will Be Prosecuted.

Evidently Mr. Turner, the old codger, was still around. Should she try to find his house and get permission?

She didn’t remember seeing a house anywhere in the vicinity. Even if she found it, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t turn down her request.

The only chance she had at this job was photographs of a cave.

She edged toward the entrance, half expecting an alarm to trigger, yet feeling pretty certain that fear was absurd. Who ever heard of an alarm on a cave?

She checked the trees for surveillance cameras. Unless they were hidden in squirrel or bird nests, she was unobserved.

She stepped closer. It wasn’t as if she was going to hurt anything. She was there out of appreciation for the beauty, not to mar it in any way. Freedom of the press should bring nature’s delights to everyone, not just those who could afford to be landowners.

Her indignation pushed her to the mouth of the cave. She could feel the cool dampness of its interior as she leaned her head inside.

She looked at her watch. Twelve after eight. Forty-five minutes would get her all the shots she wanted. She’d be in, out and gone.

Allowing no further debate of the matter, she made her way to the edge of the meager sunlight. She turned the flashlight on and moved through an open crevice from the first cavern into an adjacent one.

Nothing looked familiar, but the primordial green, earthy scent catapulted her back in time. Closing her eyes, she could almost hear echoes of the sobs and sighs and cries of ecstasy she and Chance had left behind nine years ago.

A surge of warmth rushed through her despite the chilly surroundings and a sentimental breath caught in her throat. She scanned the area with her flashlight. So many openings, all probably leading to other rooms. No time for nostalgia.

“Today will bring the perfect shot that will make me somebody.” Her voice slid around the smooth bowl of the cavern and returned to her.

She ducked through an opening into another area, not sure what she was looking for but confident she would know it when she saw it.

Before moving another step, she pulled the masking tape from her backpack and hung a strip from the opening she’d passed through. The afternoon in the cave with Chance taught her more than lessons in life. If he hadn’t unwound a ball of twine to follow back, they might still be here. She chuckled, remembering how pleased he was that Mrs. Cooper’s mythology class had rendered information worth remembering.

Several caverns later, she found what she was looking for. A natural column of sandstone in the middle of the room gave it an interesting feel. She arranged the portable lights from her backpack on each side, in precisely the right spots for dramatic shadows, and clicked away.

When she adjusted one of the lights, her foot knocked it over. As it fell, a brilliant spark of light reflected from the

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