Chapter 24
The Stranger
I know I shouldn’t be loving this, but hell, it’s freaking cool.
Appearance-wise, the Dante’s Shield isn’t much different from a standard suit, aside from the metallic sheen of its protective materials and a hardened torso that protects the integrated rebreather and backup gas systems. But the outer insulation layer alone only ensures survival for seconds once extreme heat begins to cook whatever’s inside the suit.
The second layer contains a thermal protection barrier gel and coolant tubes. Once activated, it begins to deteriorate immediately and loses all effectiveness when the gel melts completely.
Fifty-five minutes, give or take, to get back into survivable temperatures.
The third and final layer of the Shield is a comfortable, moisture-wicking fabric that keeps the skin cool and promotes air circulation.
Entering the Shield from the back, I’m sealed inside from neck to feet with a pressure-sealing, titanium-coated zipper.
The helmet is bulkier than a typical mask, but sleeker and more compact than those used in commercial diving.
Once locked into the neck of the suit, there’s no skin exposed to the outside elements.
Airtight.
It’s a remarkable feat of engineering, but with all its complex parts, the failure mode is incredible. But none of us mentions failure again after it’s explained once during training.
There’s no point. We’re doing this.
My biggest challenge with the Shield is losing all micro-control of movement.
Its sensors and computers adjust my buoyancy and trim, forcing me to unlearn the skills and instincts I normally follow without thinking.
The suit’s top-heavy balance and a complete lack of water flow against my skin are disorienting, making me feel as if I’m inside a remote-controlled bubble.
But my legs can still do the driving, assisted by thrusters, while my arms and hands handle what remote and autonomous vehicles still can’t do with human precision.
After receiving the Dante’s Shield overview this morning, we immediately prepped to train in shifts of four assigned to two SEAL instructors at a time. I’m with Sid, Jamie, and Finn.
It’s been… entertaining.
Jamie makes another attempt at using the thruster. Bursting forward, he overshoots about two yards this time. Then slowly drifts to the side. “Damn. I thought I had it that time.”
At least he’s improving.
Sid owns it. She deliberately pushes hard on the thrust to whip around in wild circles. The SEAL she’s assigned to reprimands her and threatens to pull her out of the water completely.
“It’s my learning style,” she says. “I need to get a feel for how to steer everything with my fingers. Like a video game.”
She whips around to hover closer to the SEAL. “Maybe you can give me some more one-on-one instruction topside.”
He mumbles a curse under his breath but lets her keep playing.
Finn and I have already got the hang of our suits and are just swimming around, enjoying our new toys.
“It’s time to run through the emergency features. Who’s first?” The SEAL asks.
“Me!” Sid and Jamie say at the same time.
The emergency features concern me the most. While I appreciate the redundancy they’ve built into the suits—pure genius—the emergency steps are much more complex than they are with standard gear.
There’s virtually no room for failure. But in hazardous environments like the one we’re going into, there rarely is.
It’s going to be extremely dangerous in the caves.
I think of Crystal, of what I’m asking her to accept. And then Natalie. She’s already lost one father. If I die, I’m signing them up for more pain.
“Did I pass?” Sid asks the SEAL after switching to the backup rebreather loop.
“You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” The SEAL chuckles.
Sid frowns at him, then asks if she can do the next drill.
“Hey—it’s my turn, Sid,” Jamie complains.
She shrugs when Jamie frowns after the SEAL lets her do it.
Finn and I have already completed our drills.
We’re ready to go.
Finn swims up to me. “Reminds me of the Action Man scuba diver I had as a kid. Our very own version of G.I. Joe. You have one of those?”
“Not sure.” I gesture to my head. “Amnesia, remember?”
“Right.”
We’ve scared away most of the fish, but a huge cluster of Crevalle jack swims by, and all of a sudden it looks like we’re in one of those arcade shooter games.
“I found a shitload of PlayStation games in the closet. Looks like I was a fan of Treasures of the Deep,” I say.
“Oh, that was a good one—Jack Runyan all the way. When you play it, let me know if you get to Atlantis.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that.”
Even though I’m not sure I should, I like Finn. But it also feels like he’s playing a game. The question is, why?
“How did we know each other?” I ask him.
“Hmmm?” His pause almost seems natural, but I notice it for what it is. He’s thinking about his answer. “Not that well. We ran into each other… as colleagues.”
“Where?”
Before he can answer, the SEAL assigned to the two of us signals to us that we need to end the dive. That’s odd. We were scheduled for two hours, and Jamie is still going through his emergency drills. Why is he calling it early?
Confused, we begin our ascent to the surface.
As soon as we’re back on deck, Scott darts to me, phone in hand. “Nathan, get dressed now.”
When we leave the marina, he’s still on the phone. He glances up every few seconds to update me on everything going on.
Kidnapped.
Two hours ago, while I was playing around in the Shield instead of protecting my family.
The whirlpool of fear and confusion I’m feeling right now is like nothing I’ve ever known. I picture her big brown eyes and large white-blonde curls. With her sweet face looking at me. Calling me Daddy.
I can’t let anything happen to her.
Scott whips the truck into the police station and parks at the entrance.
“We’ll find her,” he says, squeezing my shoulder.
Numb, I follow him through the double doors.
The officer at the front desk takes us into a quiet room where Crystal and Mads wait. I rush to Crystal.
Her pretty blue sundress is wrinkled and dirty, and her hair is tangled. She doesn’t wear much makeup, but remnants of the light strokes of mascara she wore this morning when she playfully said goodbye shade her cheeks, and her lips are dry.
“Baby.” I pull her into my arms, and we cry together.
After staying with us a few minutes, Mads and Scott get up to take Christopher home.
“Give me your keys. We’ll bring back your car,” Maddie says. I give her the keys to my Corolla, and she hugs me goodbye.
“Nathan, they asked so many questions,” Crystal says. “I couldn’t think of everything. What if I didn’t tell them something they need to know?” Crystal and Mads were interviewed as soon as they got here.
“This isn’t your fault.” I squeeze her tighter. We’re sitting in cold, uncomfortable seats, like the ones little kids use at school.
“I told them about you. That you’re Natalie’s father.”
Another officer comes in to speak with us.
“We’ve issued a be on the lookout and have been pulling video from home and business cameras in the area.” He hands over a packet of information including the case number and contact numbers for victim services. “We’ve already issued the AMBER Alert. We’ll find your daughter.”
He gently touches Crystal’s arm and steps out to speak with his sergeant.
We sit in silence, letting our thoughts run free for a few minutes.
Crystal pulls out her wallet and takes out a photo. Natalie as a baby. She has a few patches of fuzzy white hair and the biggest smile, showing off her two tiny bottom teeth.
“She’d just said her first word and was so proud of herself.”
“What was it?”
“Momma.” Bursting into another round of tears, she puts the photo away. “Where is she, Nathan? Where is our baby girl?”
Crystal’s desperate, terrified words crush the courage I’d been trying to muster. “I don’t know, but we’ll find her. We have to.” I pull her into my arms again, and we wait.
The officer returns with another man in a business suit who’s carrying a clipboard.
“Mrs. Glassier, Dr. Carter, I’m Detective Daniels.” After he shakes our hands, he pulls up a chair and sits close to us. “We’ve set up triage and have eyes all over this town. I know the only thing you want to hear is that we’ve found your little girl and we’re working on that.”
He flips through some stapled pages and looks at Crystal. “Thank you for answering all our questions. I know some of them are intrusive. But I promise we’re only asking so we can get things moving fast.”
He pulls out a grainy black-and-white photograph and shows it to us. I take it.
There’s a close-up shot of a man wearing sunglasses and a hat. He’s near a parked Land Rover and walking toward the park.
“We got this from a street camera near the park. Do either of you recognize this man?”
I do. It’s the same freak that was staring at me at the town hall.
“There was a guy who looked like that at the town hall last week. I don’t know him.”
The detective takes notes and asks a few more questions about the scene and about the people I’ve encountered since my return.
“I know this is going to be hard to hear,” he says.
“But you need to go home and get some rest.” He pulls out a card and hands it to me.
“I’ll be in touch, and you can call me any time of day.
I’m sincerely sorry this is happening.” He pats me on the back as I hold a sobbing Crystal. “We’ll find her.”
After he leaves, Crystal cries harder. She may not be able to calm down.
The hell? I can’t go home and rest. Natalie’s in danger, and anything could be happening to her right now.
Scott and Mads are waiting for us in the front office.
It’s sunset when we get outside. I turn to Scott. “Can you take them home? I have to look for her.”
He pauses a moment before he speaks. “Yeah. Keep your phone charged.” He hands me my keys.
I watch as Scott pulls out of the station with Crystal and Mads, then I get into my car.
My first instinct is to take off, but instead I breathe.
Breathe in deeply—then a second sniff of air—exhale slowly. Again. Again.
I tense the muscles in my feet, hold, and release. Then my legs, my stomach, my chest, my shoulders, my neck, and my head.
Tense up. Then let go.
Karen, my friend from Miami, taught me this relaxation technique that she picked up from her Wednesday drama classes.
It takes the edge off my panic—opening the clogged channels of my head so I can think and do this.
I’m going to comb this entire island until I find that Rover.
Most streets in Maverick Key are empty after dark. The only nightlife is the bars and restaurants on Beach Drive, leaving the rest of the island’s roads quiet and still.
Sweat pours down my back in cold streams as I move street to street. In my head, I’ve divided the island into a grid, and I’m combing each neighborhood methodically, one block at a time.
Am I looking for Walter, the Big, Mean Man or someone else entirely? There’s been no ransom contact. And I have no clue what this person wants. Only that time isn’t on our side.
My vision tunnels, causing me to miss a street. I make a U-turn to circle back. I can’t afford to skip anything.
Still nothing.
I keep driving. The island thins out. Fewer homes, more empty lots, and residential neighborhoods are replaced by commercial buildings. Sodium lights buzz ahead, harsh and bright, cutting through the dark.
Loud barks.
To my right, a wooden fence shudders as several dogs behind it jump and bark. It looks like a discount car parts lot.
When I turn my attention back to the road, it’s too late to see the red light. Slamming on the brakes, I stop right in the middle of the intersection. Lucky for me, there aren’t any other cars nearby.
I just sit resting my head on the steering wheel. She’s out there somewhere, and there’s nothing I can do to protect her.
What is happening to her right now?
Unconsciously, I ease my foot off the brake. That’s when I see it—parked at the gas station.
A silver Land Rover.