33
“We might have the place.” Noelle strode into the hospital room the next morning, startling Rowan and Sophia. Thor’s head swiveled her way, his ears and eyes locked on the detective.
Rowan had brought him to visit Sophia, knowing dogs made everything better. A couple of nurses had gushed over his black fur and then given a thumbs-up for Rowan to take him into the room. His presence had eased a bit of the bleakness in Sophia’s eyes. But nothing would touch her despair. Knowing the two men who had beaten her now had her son—and Evan—was crushing her.
They’d had to hold Sophia down after telling her that her son was missing. She’d ripped out her IV and tried to leap out of bed, convinced she could find him. After she’d realized there was nothing she could do, for an hour Sophia had berated the detectives—and Rowan—alternating between fury and despair that Zack hadn’t been protected.
She’d unsuccessfully begged nurses for stronger pain medication, wanting escape from her current reality. Crying jags were interspersed with long stretches of deep sleep or simply staring at the wall.
Rowan would have welcomed some drugs for escape too.
Noelle swung the little side eating tray over Sophia’s lap, set a large tablet on it, and brought up some photos. Rowan stood to get a better look. On the screen were aerial shots of a home surrounded by woods and a few outbuildings. “We got these photos from the Wasco County sheriff moments ago. Could this be it?” she asked Sophia. Her voice was calm, but Rowan heard the urgency in her tone.
Rowan watched Sophia’s face as she studied the photos. With shaking fingers, the woman scrolled through five photos that must have been taken by a drone. There appeared to be a main building, its perfect rectangular shape indicating it could be a manufactured home. It had a large outbuilding on its south side and then a smaller one on the north. Sophia stopped on one photo and zoomed in on the larger outbuilding.
“I think this is it,” she said softly. She touched the far side of the building. “This is where I broke through the window, and then I must have gone in this direction, because I looked back and saw a door and porch light on the home.” She dragged her finger southeast, following the drive, which was barely visible through the trees. She met Noelle’s gaze. “It fits. I can’t tell you for certain that this is it, but the buildings and dirt road are placed as I remember. Is it close to where I was found?”
“It’s several miles,” said Noelle. “You covered more ground than anyone would have guessed.”
“I wanted to get away. I just went until I couldn’t go anymore.”
Not too surprised, Rowan studied the photos. Missing people wandered. Often going much farther than searchers expected.
“Are they there?” whispered Sophia, referring to Zack and Evan.
“We’re about to find out,” said Noelle. “We’ve had SWAT on standby since yesterday. I’m giving the go-ahead to head to this location.”
Sophia leaned back into her pillows. “Oh my God. This could be it.” She took several deep breaths as tears started to flow. “Please tell them to be careful. Zack ...”
“I know,” said Noelle, understanding in her gaze. “They’ll do everything in their power to get him out safely.”
Rowan said nothing, anticipation and fear setting her every nerve on edge.
Evan. Please be safe.
SWAT members were trained professionals. They drilled constantly for high-risk situations. Negotiators, snipers, entry teams. They knew what they were doing.
But shit happened.
Rowan stood up. “I’m going. I need to be there.”
Noelle’s gaze narrowed on her. “You know you can’t. You’ll be in the way.”
“I’ll stay behind the command center. I’ll talk to no one. I just need to be there.”
I have to know if Evan is alive.
Noelle studied her for a long moment. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” Relief rushed through her veins, and she quickly sat as she grew dizzy.
I’ll find out right away if he’s alive.
“Who owns the property?” she asked, waiting for her lightheadedness to pass.
“Catherine Woods. Age seventy-eight. Clearly not one of our kidnappers, but we’re looking into her family members. One of them might be using the property.”
Rowan looked at Sophia. “Does the last name Woods mean anything to you?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t hear my dad say it.” She glanced at Noelle. “What if it’s the wrong place? What if I’ve made a mistake?” Her voice rose.
Noelle patted her shoulder. “Then we’ll keep looking.”
Something crumpled inside Rowan.
How long will that take?
The dizziness returned, and Rowan wondered how much longer she could stay functional. She wanted to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head until someone informed her that Evan was alive.
Four hours later, Rowan waited behind the SWAT command center’s RV. The team had set up a half mile from the home. Two snipers had been in position for nearly an hour, hiding in the trees, watching the home through the scopes of their weapons. They’d reported there had been no visible movement in the home but confirmed that a window had been broken on the south side of the largest outbuilding.
Sophia’s escape hatch.
Rowan was relieved to know that they were in the right spot.
Noelle and Rowan huddled together outside in the cold air, listening on Noelle’s radio as the SWAT members communicated with each other. A discussion on how to get in touch with whoever was inside was underway. Negotiation was always the first step in hostage situations.
The light wind was icy, and Rowan adjusted her thick scarf, pulling it up to her ears.
“How did Sophia deal with these temperatures with just a blanket?” she muttered.
“When your life is at stake, you can do a lot of things you usually couldn’t,” answered Noelle, who eyed Rowan’s scarf with envy as she tried to pull her coat collar together. Her jacket had left her neck exposed.
Noelle had a point. When Rowan was a small child with a broken leg, her brother—still a child himself—had carried her for miles to get her to safety. “True. Or when someone else’s life is in danger.”
The radio crackled, and they heard a woman speak. “This is the Deschutes County sheriff’s office! We would like to speak to you!” The negotiator was in the RV, but her voice had been broadcast from a speaker close to the home.
Rowan had been inside a few mobile command centers. They had multiple screens showing different views of the target and three or four people monitoring them. There were at least two negotiators. One to speak and the other to help listen and advise. If necessary, the second would take over if the first grew exhausted or if it appeared the negotiator couldn’t establish a rapport with the subject. Negotiation was a delicate process. It had to stay fluid and rapidly adapt to what worked or change course when things went south.
“No movement,” reported a sniper through the radio.
“Same,” said the second sniper.
The woman waited about thirty seconds, then repeated her request in a patient tone.
“This could be a long afternoon,” said Noelle.
Rowan had packed water, protein bars, and dog food in anticipation of exactly that. “What’ll they do next?” she asked the detective. Her skin crawled with tension. She wanted them to storm the buildings and get Evan out. Not sit around waiting for someone to reply.
If they don’t enter soon, I’ll crack.
“If the person inside doesn’t offer a phone number for communication, they’ll provide a phone,” said Noelle.
“Throw it through a window?” asked Rowan.
“Yep. It’s unlikely someone will open the door and expose themselves to pick up a phone on the step.”
True.
After twenty minutes of silence from inside the home, a warning was given that a phone was coming through a window. A SWAT member crept close to the home, broke a window, and threw a phone inside.
Finally! Now we’ll get somewhere.
The negotiators waited as they called the phone over and over.
“Usually people can’t ignore a ringing phone,” said Noelle. “I swear it’s in our DNA.”
Rowan agreed, thankful they couldn’t hear the phone ringing through her radio.
For the next half hour, they listened to the team members discuss the next steps and agree to give the kidnappers a little more time to open up communication. Rowan wanted to scream.
They’re waiting too long.
She wondered how the team stayed patient. The men were waiting in the BearCat, the county’s armored vehicle, about fifty yards from the home. Rowan had glimpsed a few of them before they moved into position. Each wore tan camouflage and heavy armor with SHERIFF across the back, helmets, headphones, and a mic, and each carried multiple weapons. She spotted a several AR-15s, M4 carbines, a lot of handguns, and an orange-trimmed less-lethal weapon that probably shot beanbag rounds.
The commander stepped out of the RV to stretch his legs. He spotted Thor and his eyes lit up. He walked over and crouched down to scratch Thor’s chest.
“We should add a dog to the team,” he said. “Good for stress relief. It’s fucking tense inside there.” He looked up at Rowan, his gaze deadly serious. “We’ll get Evan and Zack out,” he promised.
Rowan nodded, unable to speak.
He can’t guarantee that they’ll get them out alive.
“Want to step inside for a few minutes?” he asked. “Coffee’s hot.”
Absolutely.
“For a bit,” said Noelle. “We don’t want to be in the way.”
“There’s room. Just be quiet.” He tousled Thor’s ears and stood. The women followed him around the RV, up the few steps, and inside. Noelle turned off her radio. The three people seated inside glanced up from the monitors. Their faces were lined with intensity but brightened as they spotted Thor.
Rowan pulled the scarf from her neck. It was almost too warm in the RV. The multiple screens and computer equipment were putting out heat. The commander opened a few windows and then held out his hand for Thor’s leash. Rowan handed it off.
He walked Thor over to a woman who must have been the voice they’d heard requesting the kidnappers to communicate. She gently patted Thor’s head and slowly exhaled. “I don’t think they’ll answer the phone. We’ve given enough time,” she told the commander.
“Agreed.” He raised a brow at the other two people inside, who nodded, their faces grim.
He lifted a phone and gave orders.
They’re going in.
Rowan tensed; she’d been waiting hours for this moment. There were few more dangerous situations than breaching and entering a building into an unknown situation. The fatal funnel. None of the SWAT team knew what to expect behind that closed door, but it was their job to breach it and be prepared for anything.
Two of the monitor screens were divided into views from all the SWAT members’ body cameras; currently those views were of other members as they waited in the BearCat. The views suddenly started to jerk more as the vehicle moved closer to the property. Three other monitors showed stationary views of the property, and after a few moments, part of the BearCat appeared on one. Rowan looked away from the dizzying body cams as the men streamed out of the vehicle. Three took off to the back of the property, and the others rapidly approached the front door, carrying shields.
They went up the small porch steps, and one produced a small but heavy battering ram. Two swings of the ram blew open the door, and the men streamed inside. It appeared to be a disorganized rush, but Rowan knew the movements were carefully choreographed; every man had a role.
Rowan’s gaze moved from one jolting body camera view to another as the team rapidly cleared the house. Shouts of “Clear! Clear! Clear!” filled the RV. The snipers continued to report that no one was seen on the grounds. So many people were talking at once, she wondered how the commander could keep track of what was happening.
No one was in the home. Closets and cupboards were opened and cleared. The home had recently been in use. There were dishes in the sink and unmade beds and toiletries in the bathroom. Two members stayed inside while the rest went to check the outbuildings.
Rowan held her breath as she watched one of the still cam views as the men took positions to the sides of the largest outbuilding’s door. One man tested the doorknob and then stepped back as another moved forward and swung the battering ram at the door. It thrust open on the first hit and the team rapidly moved inside with precision movements. Rowan watched the body cams. The team passed through what looked like a garage area. It was stacked with boxes—too small to hide in—and two walls were lined with several workbenches. The team followed the same technique to open a door at the back of the building. It led to a small room. Inside there was nothing to hide behind or in.
That was the extent of the outbuilding.
No Evan.
Where is he?
She wanted to cry.
It was almost like Schrodinger’s cat. She wouldn’t know if Evan was alive or dead until she saw him. Both scenarios existed simultaneously in her brain.
It was an exhausting emotional roller coaster.
A filthy twin mattress took up most of the floor, and one of the team members kicked over a metal bucket. Rowan spotted the broken window on one of the body cams, and she stared, imagining Sophia crawling out the small window.
“Fucking reeks of shit and piss in here,” commented one member.
A chorus of agreement.
“Handcuffs,” stated one. “Ropes. Cattle prod. Lighters.” The items came into sight, tossed into a corner of the room.
Rowan closed her eyes for a long moment, assaulted by images of Evan being tortured.
Was he tortured like Rod?
Most of the team moved to the second outbuilding. Inside they found another mattress and more tools of torture. But no Evan or Zack.
“They were running a fucking torture hotel,” muttered Noelle. “Sick pricks.”
Rowan sat down, her legs shaking, and Thor immediately put a paw up on her lap, his gaze searching hers. “Good boy,” she whispered, and then buried her hands and face in his fur. She inhaled his doggy smell as she tried to slow her pounding heart. The tension of the last few hours exited her body in a rush, leaving her empty and running on fumes.
Now what?
Noelle silently took a seat beside her and set a hand on her back. “I know,” she said to Rowan. “We’ll find him.”
Rowan lifted her head. “What if we’re too late?”
“I think we would have found him here if we were too late,” Noelle said softly. “But we’ll tear this place apart. Figure out where they went. They’re too fucking sloppy to have left no trace behind.”
“Noelle.” Rowan lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if someone warned them SWAT was coming? There were dishes on the counter. It looks like they left in a hurry.”
Noelle stared back at her, horror, then anger, filling her eyes. “Fuck.”
Was Rod right not to trust law enforcement?
“Commander,” came a voice over the speakers. “We’ve got a small sunken area in the ground back here behind the second outbuilding.”
“How small?” asked the commander.
“Maybe three feet long. Foot and a half wide.”
“Shit,” muttered the commander.
The negotiator shook her head. “That takes time,” she stated. “That’s not one of our hostages.”
Rowan looked from one to the other in confusion. “What did he find?”
“A grave,” said Noelle. “A lazy one. I’m guessing they didn’t bury the body very deep. The depression happens as the torso decays and the dirt above it sinks down. How much do you want to bet that’s Catherine Woods? The seventy-eight-year-old property owner?”
Or a previous hostage.
Rowan took strength from the fact that the negotiator was right. It would take time for a depression to form where someone had buried a body. There was no way it could be Evan.
Where is he?