Water Walker: Episodes 1-4 Part 6

It was a long shot, but at this juncture, she'd take a long shot over no shots. She scanned the room, thinking she should say something. But there was nothing new to say. They'd covered the same ground today as they had yesterday. Nothing but dead ends.

She slid into a chair, ran a hand through her hair, and stared at the wall. The waiting was always the hardest part. Hours, days, weeks, months . . .

Years.

That was a lot of whys.

"No further sightings in Tennessee?" she asked absently.

"None."

"Nothing new from the DMV?"

"No."

She slammed her hand on the table and took her frustration out on no one in particular. "Come on, people! There has to be something out there that we're missing! Think!"

The door swung in. "Got a hit," Jay said, phone still plastered to his ear. "He had a smartphone in the truck for work. Said he reported it stolen with the toolbox. Cell phone and charger."

She felt her pulse spike.

"Did he have it on?"

"He couldn't remember."

She was out of her chair. "Phone number and carrier."

Jay asked the owner, quickly jotted down the information on a pad, and handed it to Benner.

"Call them . . ." Olivia said.

But he was already calling.

She could hear the throb of her pulse in her ears as she paced. Her lungs tightened. If the cell phone had been left on, they would be able to track its movements for as long as the phone had held its charge.

On the other hand, if the cell phone had been off, or died before Alice had been taken, they would know nothing.

It would be back to waiting. G.o.d, she hated waiting.

Benner covered the receiver with his hand. "They got it. It'll take some time for them to work it on their end, but they've got an active signal. Phone's still on."

ACCORDING TO THE data provided by the carrier, the blue truck carrying Alice and her abductor had traveled north out of Greenville on US 25 on the night of the abduction. Well outside of town, the man had veered west on I-26, exited near Asheville Regional Airport and made his way onto the Blue Ridge Parkway.

Despite the difficult terrain and dense vegetation, the wireless company had been able to track the vehicle's southbound progress into the mountains to where it had angled off the main road and onto a ribbon of dirt road that disappeared into the woods. Five miles in, the truck had stopped where it had remained for the past three days.

Because the smartphone had been in standby mode, the battery life had been conserved long enough for them to determine the exact GPS coordinates of the device. And the truck.

Within hours, a tactical team had been a.s.sembled and converged on the location.

Olivia knelt in the thick shade that pooled beneath the trees at the clearing's edge and scanned the scene. Thirty yards away, the blue truck was parked next to an old cabin with a green metal roof that drooped over a covered porch. The building's darkened windows gazed out like hollow eyes at the thick forest that crowded it on every side.

Her attention lingered on the truck for a long moment.

"You okay?" Benner said at her side. He was clad in a black Kevlar vest and held a 9mm by his side.

"I'm fine."

They'd staged their operation from the main road and moved on foot to avoid drawing attention. The plan was simple: Olivia and Benner would enter the front with Asheville SWAT and secure the cabin. Local FBI a.s.sets would provide secondary support on the exterior. Speed was the key, which is why they were moving now, with the sun still high in the sky, not later. Every minute they waited was a minute wasted.

"Adam Three in position," a voice crackled in her earpiece. The backup unit was in place.

"Copy that, Adam Three," she whispered. She gave a nod to the captain of the SWAT unit. "Let's roll."

He motioned his team of five forward with Olivia and Benner bringing up the rear. Moving low and fast, they left the cover of the forest and angled toward the northeast corner of the cabin in single file, weapons raised.

Olivia's pulse quickened with each step, her nerves raw and humming with adrenaline. They reached the edge of the cabin, rounded the corner, pa.s.sed beneath the front windows in a low crouch as they closed the distance to the front porch.

The SWAT leader lifted a clenched fist as they approached the front stairs, bringing everyone to a silent halt.

Olivia's eyes flicked from the door to the window. No movement that she could see. She scanned the clearing, half expecting the man to make a run for the truck. But there was no sign of the man, no sign that they'd been seen.

We have to move . . . we have to move . . .

After a breath, the man motioned forward with two fingers. One of the men broke rank and climbed the steps with a black battering ram at his side. In unison, the others followed close as he crossed the porch and, in one smooth motion, swung the metal ram.

It connected with a loud boom that rattled the cabin's front windows. The force of impact nearly knocked the door from its hinges as it swung open violently.

The man stepped aside, dropped the ram and drew his weapon as the others rushed past him and into the cabin.

Olivia entered the dimly lit cabin close on the SWAT unit's heels.

Weapon leveled, she crossed the room, eyes sweeping right to left as she went. The main room was empty. Daylight filtered through the grimy windows and the tang of woodsmoke and bacon hung on the air. Her focus clicked through the surroundings, registering every detail as she moved toward a narrow hallway straight ahead.

To the left: a dinette with two wooden chairs and a small kitchen.

To the right: a brown couch and two chairs gathered around a large crate used as a coffee table. Beyond it, a fireplace with a heap of gray ash.

She pulled up in the hallway as SWAT kicked in the door on the right and two men rushed through, weapons snugged against their shoulders. The fast rustle of bodies and gear. Boots clomping against the hardwood floor.

"Clear!" the voice came from inside the room.

The remaining officers turned their attention to the rickety door on the opposite side of the hallway. Forced their way in without hesitation. Two seconds later it too was declared clear. Empty. Then the next room: a bathroom.

Olivia angled into the first room. She stopped, eyes searching. A small bed covered with a tattered quilt. A pillow with a teddy bear, one eye missing, on top of it. A single window-bars on the exterior.

But no Alice. They were gone.

"Get forensics in here! I want every inch of this place searched. She's a smart girl, she might have left something behind for us."

Benner stood in the doorway with his gun at his side. "You got it."

"And gather the others. Our guy's made a run for it."

6.

AN INVESTIGATIVE team comprised of thirty-two local police and FBI agents gathered in front of the cabin as the whump of a circling helicopter filled the air. Two men held a large map of the area as Benner spoke.

"The only tire marks coming or leaving the cabin are the truck's. That means he didn't drive out of here. The K-9 unit picked up Alice's scent in the house and followed it to two sets of fresh tracks leading into the woods on the south side of the property. Our guy left on foot, and he may have left under cover of night. We don't know."

He drew a line with his finger from the cabin's location to the flowing green contours of the mountains. "There's nowhere else for him to go, but along this ridge or over it. Search Group Three is staged here." He pointed to a location to the south. "They will sweep north and converge with the teams departing from here. If our perpetrator's in the area we'll box him in. We don't know how much of a head start he has, but he's got Alice in tow, so he'll be slower than us."

He looked at Olivia. "Local police has eyes in the sky providing support. If our guy's still in the area, we'll get him. Special Agent Strauss will coordinate Search Group Two and Captain Richardson with Asheville PD will oversee Group One. Any questions?"

The group was restless, but no one spoke.

Olivia scanned the team. "This is our best chance, folks. Remember, we don't know what this man is capable of or what his mindset is. We have to a.s.sume he's armed and willing to harm Alice if he gets pinned down. Be smart; I don't want her hurt."

They watched her without responding-she was saying nothing they didn't already know.

"Let's go."

The group broke up, each team forming up and setting out from the clearing with their a.s.signed task.

Olivia stood for a long moment, studying the squat cabin, which now stood vacant and lifeless. The CSI team meticulously processed the blue truck sitting next to it.

Judging by the contents of the trash bag Forensics found behind the cabin, the perpetrator had kept Alice here for several days, likely since the night of the abduction. Question was, when had they left?

She turned from the cabin and hurried to join the search.

Hold on, Alice. Just hold on a little longer.

7.

Day Six

5:37 pm

LOUISIANA. That's all I knew. Because Wyatt had blindfolded me and asked me to lie down on the front seat for the last four hours of the drive.

He'd kept me at the cabin in the woods for three days, just as he'd said he would. I felt like I was living in a strange dream most of the time. Sometimes, like when I thought about how he'd taped Louise up and put her in the closet, it felt like a nightmare, but mostly it felt like we were just pretending. And most of that was because of Wyatt.

He was a moonshiner, he said, and being in the woods was home to him. He was perfectly happy living on a diet of eggs, bacon, sausage, white bread, peanut b.u.t.ter, boiled cabbage, pork, milk, an occasional Snickers bar (which was a real treat for him), and a slug of moonshine now and then, though he was careful not to drink too much. He said it could make you go silly in the head.

But it wasn't only that Wyatt was at home in the woods; he didn't seem to have a care in the world apart from making sure that I was safe and comfortable. Not once did he talk about any concern that the authorities might find and take me, or the trouble he might be in for kidnapping me. He was only thrilled that he'd succeeded in rescuing me, as he kept putting it.

Watching him, I couldn't help thinking that he actually thought he was on a vacation with his daughter, and his enthusiasm was sometimes a little infectious.

He didn't tell me much more about Kathryn and nothing about where we were going, because he said Kathryn wanted it all to be a surprise. Instead he talked about moonshining and told me stories from his days in the enterprise, his successes and mishaps and avoiding the law. Evidently there were laws about selling alcohol, all of which were an abuse of rights, he said.

When he wasn't telling stories, he was trying to convince me to play one game or the other-I spy, find the pine cone, poker with an old deck of cards and pebbles as money. It took some convincing on his part to persuade me to play, but as I did I found some comfort in the distraction, particularly since I almost always won once I learned the rules. As the days pa.s.sed, I began to see that Wyatt was a kind man with a good heart who rarely showed any deep concern.

In fact, the only time he became uptight at all was when he talked about Kathryn. I didn't see it at first, but I began to notice that lines sometimes formed over his brow when he spoke about her. He seemed fiercely loyal and deeply caring of her, but there might have been some fear in those lines as well.

In the middle of the second night, I scratched out a note on an old piece of paper I'd found outside. There were no pencils or pens I'd seen so I used a piece of charred wood from the fireplace. In the note I gave my name and said that Wyatt Lowenstein, a moonshiner, had kidnapped me and was taking me somewhere to meet my real mother, Kathryn. I also wrote that my real father was a senator from Nevada named James Ringwald who was now dead.

I tried to think of what else might be useful but couldn't think of anything. I didn't want John or Louise to worry about me too much so I added one more line: Please don't worry. Wyatt is a kind man and is taking good care of me. He said I can come home soon.

I folded the note up and hid it under the mattress. If they found it, they would at least be able to a.s.sure Louise that I wasn't being mistreated.

At dusk on the third evening, which was actually the fourth night of my kidnapping, Wyatt cleaned up the cabin, wiped the truck down with great care, and led me through the woods, south, to a small clearing. A blue car was hidden there under branches-our ride home, he said, with a big grin.

Home. The word frightened me.

Thirty minutes later we were back on a main highway, again headed south. Two days later we were in Louisiana, and I was curled up in the front seat, blindfolded.