"Did he threaten you?"
She shook her head. "No." She bit her lip. "He was very agitated, but I don't think he meant to harm us. He may be planning to kill himself."
"Why would he do that?" Martha asked.
"Something that happened long, long time ago," Dean said as he turned toward the mine.
"David!" Cynthia called.
"Stay here," he cautioned. "I just want to talk to him. Fred is sending the sheriff up. Wait for him." He turned and jogged up the final yards without looking back.
The mine entrance was no longer barred and the newly welded gate hung open. Dean took a deep breath and crept a few tentative steps into the darkness. He paused long enough for his eyes to adjust. He had no flashlight, and the fear he'd felt during his first trip into this deep and dank hole was compounded by the absence of being able to see. With one hand on the wall, he moved forward.
"It's all right," he called. "I just want to talk." Dean's words echoed back to him, reverberating down the corridors of dank stone-then only silence. He continued to grope his way forward until the first turn in the tunnel closed off what little light spilled in from the entrance. Now, eyes open, eyes shut-it was both the same-as black as the inside of a buried coffin on a moonless night.
Dean stopped. He knew without Martha's map he'd never remember the various turns he and Cynthia had taken to where the skeleton had reposed for over fifty years. He called out again. "Can you hear me? I just want to talk."
"Go back." The voice echoed from somewhere to the left, or was it the right? Dean couldn't tell, but it was many yards away.
"Let's talk about it. It was a long time ago. No one cares anymore."
"I care." The answer was almost a sob. Suddenly, a light appeared, not from before but behind him. He turned and put his arm to his eyes against the blindness.
"Jake?"
"No." It was Cynthia's voice, weak and yet strong at the same time. "I remembered the flash light in the Jeep, from the last time."
"You shouldn't have-" he began, but she put a finger to his lips. She whispered, "Martha's waiting for Jake Weller. I told her about the back entrance to the mine." She grabbed on to the back of his belt.
In the wash of the hand torch, the tunnel opened up before them. They were standing at the first turn which now lighted looked familiar. They cautiously crept forward.
"It was an accident, wasn't it?" Dean called.