by Rick Mofina
A sharp metallic, crackling sound filled the casket.
Vanessa felt the vibration as a corner buckled.
More dirt was now trickling in at her feet and midsection.
The clock was showing that she had one hour and fifty minutes to live.
CHAPTER 67
Hopewell, New Jersey
The gleaming white walls of the Lincoln Tunnel rushed by Kate’s front passenger window.
Sal Perez guided his Dodge Journey SUV under the Hudson River and into New Jersey. After passing through the tollgate and barreling south on I-95, he tossed a worn notebook to Ellie Ridder in the backseat.
He’d already passed her his two portable police scanners.
“Ellie, tune into the frequencies for the New Jersey State Police for the Troop C—they cover Mercer County, where Hopewell is.”
“I don’t see it.”
“Go to the N tab for New Jersey.”
Ellie snapped through pages while Kate checked online for updates and the minutes and seconds ticked down on Vanessa.
“Okay, got it!”
“Good, program them in like I showed you, then go online and get the frequency for Mercer County. You should get local paramedics, fire, everybody.”
Fear had numbed Kate’s fingertips as she watched her messages for news of a location. She took some comfort that she was with Perez and Ridder. Sal and Ellie both had reported in Iraq and Afghanistan, while at home they’d covered tornadoes, floods, wildfires and major shootings.
As they put miles behind them, the scanners crackled to life with dispatches of cross talk from emergency responders in and surrounding Hopewell. Sal pushed his SUV hard, weaving through traffic to pass news vans from New York.
“Looks like everybody’s headed to Hopewell,” Sal said after he’d passed the third one.
“It’s déjà vu,” Ellie said.
“What’d you mean?”
“Hopewell. You don’t know about Hopewell, New Jersey, Sal?”
“I’m drawing a blank.”
“You remember Charles Lindbergh, the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic?”
“Yeah.”
“Well in 1932, his baby boy was kidnapped from his home in Hopewell, New Jersey, for ransom. After Lindbergh paid fifty thousand, the baby’s body was found in a wooded area south of Hopewell. At that time, it was the biggest story in the world.”
“Oh, right. They executed the guy who did it.”
Ellie touched Kate’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry to bring this up, Kate.”
“It’s history. It’s true. I know that and I was thinking maybe Zurrn was trying to emulate the Lindbergh case. But none of this seems real to me right now—I’m sorry. Please go faster, Sal.”
The scanner’s transmissions concerned the positioning of work crews around the town. As Kate turned to the window to search the night, a loud ringing sounded in the SUV and Sal answered his hands-free phone, boosting the volume.
“It’s Chuck, how far are you from Hopewell, Sal?”
He glanced at his GPS.
“Twenty, twenty-five minutes, Chuck. What’ve you got?”
“Here’s the latest. They haven’t pinpointed the site but they believe they’re close to locking in. What they’re doing is using every local government crew, and every available contractor to trailer backhoes to the compass points surrounding Hopewell, to get ready to move. They’ve got a medical helicopter standing by and the trauma team at Viola Memorial in Newark is on alert. The medical experts said her signs are deteriorating and she’s down to thirty minutes.”
As the highway markers streaked under them and the miles passed, Kate clenched her eyes shut and whispered a prayer. It might’ve been five minutes, maybe longer, before Ellie shouted.
“They’ve got something!” She cranked the crackling dispatches.
“Yes,” Chuck said, “the FBI here are nodding! They’ve got a crew there and they’ve started digging!”
“Its north, about one and a half miles on Wertsville Road!” Ellie said.
Sal entered the information into his GPS and accelerated. Kate’s knuckles whitened as she clasped her hands together. Within ten minutes they were cutting through town. Sal threaded around other work crews, their lights flashing as they hauled equipment. Overhead the air vibrated with the thump of police and news helicopters.
“Oh, no!” Ellie held out a scanner. “Listen!”
“…got down about four feet—found an opened metal toolbox—he left some kind of transmission device inside and a note that says—‘Ha-ha! Try again! Ticktock!’…”
Kate’s heart sank. Oh, God, oh, God, no!
The phone line to Chuck and the scanners crackled with a somber silence. Then there was soft background noise from Chuck’s end.
“They’re baffled here. They’ve just got a call from Detective Brennan in Rampart strongly suggesting the site could be in Montana.”
“Montana! What the—how does Brennan know that?” Kate was losing it. “What’s going on, Chuck?”
“No wait, Kate!” Chuck was optimistic. “Others here are still insisting that the signal’s coming from Hopewell.”
Kate’s cell phone rang.
“It’s Erich. My friends are following this online, Kate.”
“Where is she?”
“Hopewell—it’s Hopewell!”
Two New Jersey State Trooper cars shot by their SUV in the opposite direction, sirens wailing, lights wig-wagging.
“Did you see that?” Sal’s head whipped around. “Something’s up!”
“Another signal!” Ellie said. “South!”
“Yes!” Chuck said. “We’ve got it here! They’re saying the Hopewell-Princeton Road!”
Sal wheeled the SUV around. Above them the choppers banked south, as well. As the SUV’s motor growled Ellie relayed the radio dispatches.
“They’re pinpointing it, Sal. The area is one mile south from the road’s junction with 518. Old Mount Rose Road comes into play. I don’t believe this!”
“What?” Kate turned to Ellie. “What is it?”
“It’s the same spot where they found the Lindbergh baby!”
* * *
Backhoe contractor “Big Ben” Pickett, got his Case 590 into position at a patch of disturbed earth they’d identified as the site in the woods some forty yards from the road.
Pickett had moved fast when he got the call at home from the township and the background nearly two hours ago. Posting him on the south side was smart. They were practically on the site when they confirmed the location.
With some twenty-five years in the business, Pickett lived on his machine. He could open this hole up in about four minutes, “like digging into mashed potatoes,” he told the troopers. They were working with the FBI agent and firefighter waving him into position, while a state police K-9 unit barked at the ground.
Portable light towers were rolled in to illuminate the scene.
As he worked, Pickett was deaf to helicopters overhead, the sirens of arriving emergency vehicles and the growing stream of news media. Troopers stretched crime scene tape at the road to keep the press back.
Lights from the cameras glowed and flashed on Pickett.
His engine roared as his bucket bit into the soft earth, scooping out over a foot of dirt. Firefighters used ground-penetrating locators and probe poles, feeling for a container, before waving Pickett to remove another layer. The process was completed again and again, quickly, efficiently until the poles hit a solid object at the depth of nearly six feet.
Firefighters waved for Pickett to stop. Ladders were lowered and crews cleared off the dirt, revealing a casket with chains sealing the lid. Industrial bolt cutters and other high-powered rescue to
ols were passed to the firefighters, who immediately opened the lid and looked down.
Vanessa Page was inside, barely conscious.
She offered a weak smile.
Firefighters transferred her to a spine board, secured an oxygen mask to her face and initiated a flow stream before they hefted her from her grave to hurry her toward the open clamshell doors of the waiting medical helicopter.
* * *
Kate jumped from Sal’s SUV before he brought it to a stop and flew to the police line where other news people were gathered, recording events as they unfolded. News camera operators zoomed in tight on Vanessa’s rescue.
“She’s alive!” one of them shouted.
Unable to bear it, Kate lifted the tape and, before state troopers and deputies could react, ran to Vanessa.
Kate’s heart was nearly bursting as she ran over the rugged terrain to the clearing as rescuers carrying Vanessa neared the helicopter. The deafening beating of the rotors made it impossible to hear but couldn’t stop her from screaming Vanessa’s name.
The men carrying her were stunned when Kate appeared, shouting at the top of her lungs.
“I’m her sister! I’m her family!” Then taking Vanessa’s hand and shouting to her, “I’m your sister! Kate! I’m your family! You’re not alone anymore!” Kate squeezed Vanessa’s hand and then she felt her squeeze back, so hard.
They found each other’s eyes and peace in the roaring chaos.
Strong hands gripped Kate’s shoulders as deputies and troopers pulled her back and paramedics secured Vanessa, closed the chopper’s door and lifted off. Its blinking lights disappeared into the night.
As they escorted Kate back to the tape, she explained over and over who she was and why she did what she did.
“I’m her sister! I have to be with her!”
“We know who you are, Kate,” one of the troopers said. “They’re going to Viola in Newark. We’ll take you there now so you can be with her.”
At the tape, nearly fifty reporters and photographers blocked the path to the police vehicles. They jostled amid the crush as the pack demanded Kate give a statement.
She agreed.
Amid the glare and subdued confusion Kate battled to collect herself, with adrenaline coursing through her and her heart racing.
“I thank God, and everyone else who helped, that we found my sister alive. To the families who’ve lost loved ones in this horrible nightmare, you have our prayers. To Sorin Zurrn, it’s over for you because my sister fought back and stopped you. You lose. It’s time to surrender.”
CHAPTER 68
Newark, New Jersey
When Kate arrived at Viola Memorial Hospital, they wouldn’t let her see Vanessa.
“She’s been sedated,” the doctor told her in the emergency reception area. “She’s asleep.”
“How is she?”
“In some shock, malnourished, dehydrated, but her signs are good—she needs rest.” He uncollared his stethoscope. “She asked about you.”
Kate’s heart lifted.
“I have to be at her side. I don’t want to leave her alone.”
The doctor’s focus shifted to survey the people who’d gathered behind Kate—the FBI agents, state police, senior hospital administration.
“We have an active investigation,” one of the agents said. “We’re attempting to locate a dangerous fugitive. Your patient is our witness and we need to talk to her.”
“Yes, I respect that, but I think in this case allowing a family member to be in the room may prove beneficial to her recovery,” the doctor said.
“As long as one of our people remains present at all times,” the agent said. “And, a police officer remains posted outside the door.”
First, they took Kate to an office where she signed papers for Vanessa. Then she called home.
“You found her! Thank heaven! It’s wonderful news!” Nancy said through tears as Kate told her that she’d be spending the night at the hospital and asked her to get Grace off to school in the morning. Nancy said that with two NYPD officers in the building and more on the street, she felt safe, “even with that monster on the loose!”
Kate then contacted Chuck to give him an update and a quote for Newslead’s story. News outlets were requesting interviews, he said. Kate gave him a statement thanking everyone while pleading for privacy and time so that she and her sister could reconcile their lives.
* * *
A nurse took Kate to an elevator.
When it stopped, the nurse’s soft-soled shoes squeaked as they walked along the polished floor. Kate noticed the antiseptic smell in the hallway, then saw the Newark police officer in a chair outside Vanessa’s room.
The officer nodded.
“You may go in if you like.” The nurse smiled, pushing the door open.
Kate froze.
Is it really over? Twenty lost years compressed into this moment. The sister I’ve carried alive in my heart for two decades is now a few feet from me!
She took a deep breath and entered, absorbing the soft, calming light, the hum and tick of the room’s air system. The FBI agent in a chair at the foot of the bed indicated the empty chair next to Vanessa.
Kate studied her sister as if gazing upon a miracle.
An IV was attached to one arm. An air tube looped under her nose. There were small bloodied scratches on her cheeks and forehead, and her long hair shot out on the pillow in an unkempt panic. Underneath it all, Kate saw a dignified, enduring beauty in the woman she had become.
And as she looked at her, anger bubbled in her gut at all that Zurrn had stolen from Vanessa—her milestones, the things she’d missed. Her first kiss, high school, her first boyfriend, her prom, college, birthdays, Christmas, her sense of family.
Family.
Suddenly memories blazed before Kate like a shooting star, brilliant images of them together as children, up until the horrible crash that tore them apart. She gasped, exploding in heaving sobs she fought to subdue as she reached for her sister’s hand, slowly, painstakingly entwining her fingers with hers, and held tight.
Kate fell asleep in the chair holding on to Vanessa.
* * *
In the morning sunlight filled the room.
Kate woke and saw the FBI agent at the door talking quietly with the police officer. Vanessa was awake staring at the ceiling.
“Hi.” Kate smiled.
Vanessa turned to her and said nothing.
“I’m your big sister, Kate. Kate Page.”
Vanessa swallowed and stared blankly at her, as if afraid. Then her eyes went round the room and her face congested with confusion.
“It’s okay. You’re in a hospital in Newark, New Jersey. You’re free and you’re safe. Police are here watching over you. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Vanessa’s eyes came back to Kate’s and searched them, across oceans of pain to a distant time.
“You’re Vanessa Page,” Kate said. “Our mother’s name was Judy. Our dad was Raymond, but everyone called him Ray.”
Vanessa said nothing but listened.
“We were a happy family. We lived in a house in a nice neighborhood near Washington, DC. We had dolls. You called yours Molly the Dolly. We had a yard and a tire swing where we played. You liked blowing soap bubbles, remember?”
Vanessa blinked a few times.
“Then Mom and Dad died and we were so sad. We had to live with relatives, then we lived in foster homes all over the country.” Kate reached for a tissue. “Then we were on a vacation driving in the mountains in Canada when our car crashed and went upside down into the river. Our foster parents were killed. I had your hand and tried to pull you out, but you slipped away and ever since that moment I’ve searched for you everywhere. Do you remember
these parts of your life, Vanessa?”
A long moment went by before she slowly began nodding.
“Mostly I remember you,” Vanessa said.
“Oh…” Kate’s voice broke and as she slid her arms around Vanessa, she felt her sister’s arms around her, holding her with all of her strength. In that moment Kate’s heart flooded with a bittersweet sensation of mourning what they’d lost and celebrating what they’d found. Then Kate noticed the agent and two nurses watching from the door and she started telling Vanessa what was going to happen.
“The people here are going to help you heal. You’re with people who love you and will care for you. I’ll be here every second I can.”
Vanessa nodded.
“The police need to talk to you about Sorin Zurrn, the man who held you. We know he had lots of names, but that’s his real name. The police need to know things, like how he hurt you and the others, who he knew, and if he talked about where he might be going, anything to help them find him.”
“Find him?”
Fear rose in her eyes.
“It’s okay, Vanessa, you’re safe. Police are here.” Kate looked at her and repeated, “I know this is hard to understand, but you’re safe. You’re with me now.”
Vanessa blinked several times then Kate reached for her phone.
“I have a little girl, Grace. You’re her aunt.”
Kate showed her a picture.
“She looks like you,” Vanessa said.
“That’s funny because I think she looks like you.”
Kate smiled, glanced at the FBI agent and continued. “Okay, Vanessa, police will need you to help them. They’ll need you to remember everything and to be strong, just like you were when you helped that girl get away.”
* * *
Kate went home but spent most of the next several days at the hospital.
In that time, Vanessa talked privately in her room with FBI agents from the task force, telling them everything she could about her time in captivity.
For her part, Kate, in a press conference held at the FBI’s Field Office in Manhattan, continued offering condolences to the families of Zurrn’s victims, her thanks for the avalanche of messages supporting her sister and a plea for the public to help find Zurrn. And at Reeka’s insistence, Kate also spoke with Newslead reporters for an exclusive feature on the rescue.
