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Ethan tilted his head, question in his eyes. "What about him?"
"Boots," Rachel said, more to herself than Ethan. "Silas mentioned a guy named Mad Jack. That's where he got his boots."
"Shit." Ethan reached into his pocket, fingers fishing for his phone. "You think he's the same guy?"
"Has to be," Rachel muttered, turning back to Tommy. His chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes wide and darting.
"Look at this," Ethan commanded, thrusting the phone toward Tommy. On the screen, Silas stared back, all cowboy swagger and casual defiance.
"Ever seen him?" Rachel asked.
Tommy squinted at the picture, then shook his head, spiky hair trembling. "No, never."
"Think, kid. This is important."
"Never," Tommy repeated, voice firm, almost irritated. "I'd remember a cowboy."
"Okay." Rachel took a deep breath, filing away the denial. She caught Ethan's glance, saw the shared skepticism there.
In the dim light, Ethan's phone was a beacon. Tommy's eyes locked onto it like a cornered animal finding an escape route.
"Mad Jack might—" Ethan began.
Tommy lunged. Hand to metal, a smack resonated. Phone spun midair—crack against concrete. Darkness swallowed the screen's glow.
"Damn!" Ethan cursed, diving after the escaping light.
"Tommy!" Rachel's voice cut through the sudden chaos, but the boy was already moving—a blur of desperation in the shadows.
"Rachel, let him." Ethan's hand gripped her arm, his words a hushed urgency as he rose empty-handed.
"Son of a—" She bit down on her impulse, muscles coiled, tension singing.
She stared after where Tommy scarpered away, darting into the tunnels ahead. For a moment, she considered giving chase, but then she realized Ethan was right. They'd gotten what they needed.
She didn't believe Tommy was the killer. He didn't have the constitution, and he seemed genuinely sad at what had happened to Chey.
Besides, they had a stronger lead. Mad Jack.
The tunnel's chill clung to Rachel's skin as silence settled, a stark contrast to the echoes of pursuit that had filled it just moments ago. Her breaths came out in visible puffs, each one a reminder of the intensity that had driven her muscles beyond exhaustion. She leaned against the cold wall, her hands tracing the rough stone, feeling the grit and dampness.
"Mountains," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Silas said Jack was in the mountains."
Ethan watched her, his silhouette etched against the faint light from the tunnel entrance. "We'll need gear. And daylight. Running out of that pretty quick."
"How are we supposed to find him?"
"Silas'll know."
"Think he'll talk?"
"If we tell him it clears him, yeah. He didn't want anything to do with law enforcement."
Rachel hesitated, but then nodded. "Good call. We can get someone at the station to find the location. No point wasting any daylight."
"One step ahead of you, partner," Ethan said, his phone in hand as he slowly raised it to his ear.
The two of them moved once more back to the exit of the cold, desolate mineshaft.
