A Prince William County cruiser rolled up and two uniformed officers got out, hands resting on their guns. The dead D.C. cop had everyone on high alert.
“Agent Altair?”
She nodded sharply and flashed her badge. “Thanks for coming. You up-to-date?”
“Uh, a busload of kids was kidnapped. One of them was found dead up in D.C.”
“And I think we just found all of their electronics dumped here.” Sayer spoke to the officers as the field agents from Quantico began to arrive. “Our first priority is to secure the scene. I don’t want anyone to drive onto this parking lot.”
While they set up a perimeter of police tape, Sayer texted Ezra a photo of the bags and electronics.
Evidence Response Team on the way, he texted back.
Also call in Max and Kona. Want to see if Kona can track the bus, she responded. Maxwell Cho and his Human Remains Detection K9, Kona, had helped Sayer solve a murder down in the Shenandoah mountains a few months before and Sayer had been impressed by how well Kona could track. Maybe the dog could follow the bus.
She stepped away from the building to get a better overview of the scene. The old gas station was the perfect place to pull someone over. It was isolated from the businesses to the north and south, surrounded by woods on three sides. Between the holidays and the frozen roads, there wouldn’t have been much traffic along Route 1.
Sayer slowly walked along the back of the parking lot, looking for any sign of disturbance. She froze at the edge of the buckled asphalt, her heart skipping a beat.
The ground sloped gently down from the parking lot into a thick stand of evergreens. Beneath the tall trees, long thin mounds of snow lined the shallow gully.
Sayer slowly moved forward, barely breathing.
She crouched down and gently cleared away the dusting of snow.
Blue lips and milky dead eyes emerged.
Hand pressed to her mouth, she stood and counted thirteen mounds. For a long moment she couldn’t do anything. No breath left her lungs. No thoughts could form as the horror of the scene sank in.
“Over here,” she finally called sharply.
At the alarm in her voice, everyone rushed toward her, but stopped at the edge of the parking lot when she held up a hand.
“Dear God,” one of the field agents whispered. “Are those bodies?”
Sayer pulled tight the curtain in her mind that saw these as people, shifting into clinical mode. “One of you come help me check that they’re all dead. Only clear their faces for now. Everyone else stay up on the asphalt. We need to let the medical examiner release them before we do anything more.”
Sayer began to gently smooth snow away from each face, checking for pulses though their dusky skin and blank eyes were enough to know they were dead. One large man wore a bus driver’s cap and a middle-aged man with silver-streaked hair was probably the chaperone.
And then children. Sayer counted slowly, eyes lingering on each ashen face. “These seven are lined up, all shot in the forehead execution-style … except see here, these four are jumbled, not in a line,” she narrated as she examined. Talking prevented her from being overwhelmed by the sight. “Maybe they tried to run.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Or no, I think maybe they tried to stop the shooter.”
Sayer took a long breath to gather herself. “We got two adults and eleven children dead. All boys.”
ABANDONED GAS STATION, WOODBRIDGE, VA
“How long does it take to drive fifteen miles?” Sayer glanced at her phone for the twentieth time. Her eyes kept drifting back over to the stand of trees and she tried to block out the images of slack young faces staring up from the snow.
Her mouth was dry, her hands were cold, and her heart felt strangled tight in her chest.
The medical examiner was on the way with a phalanx of vans to transport the dead bodies. A massive Evidence Response Team was also en route. And Max and Kona were almost at the scene.
While impatiently waiting for everyone to get there, Sayer scanned the edge of the forest. Under the dusting of snow, the corpses lacked the normal ominous presence of death. The white mounds muted the horror, leaving only the melancholy of immense loss. So many young men who were almost grown. Brilliant minds and bright futures cut short.
Though they were all probably dead long before she was even called in on the case, Sayer still felt as though she’d failed them somehow.
The first evidence response van rolled up and Sayer hurried to meet them, glad for the distraction. “I’ve got my field agents and local officers holding a wide perimeter,” she barked as they unpacked their gear. “While we wait on the medical examiner’s release of the bodies, I want some of you on the pile of bags and electronics, some working the abandoned car and the rest at the edge of the parking lot where the bus probably pulled over…”
She was interrupted by the sound of a low-flying helicopter, its spotlight roving around the crime scene in jerky circles. “Dammit, media’s here. Let’s get some canopies above the bodies! The trees will probably block most of the view, but I don’t want those dead kids on the morning news.”
As if on cue, media vans began to arrive, held back by the cordon set up by the crew of agents and local officers.
Just behind the media, Max and Kona pulled up in Max’s beat-up truck.
Max hurried to open the passenger door, his arm held stiffly at his side. He had been injured on their last job together, though he was recovering at lightning speed.
A wolfish black dog jumped out of the passenger seat, clearly anxious to get to work.
Max hailed Sayer with a solemn wave as they approached. Kona stayed at his hip like an extension of his body.
“Sayer,” he said warmly, “I thought I told you to never call me again.”
She tried to muster a grin for her friend, glad to see him even under these circumstances. While partnered on her last case, Sayer had grown to trust him, and she couldn’t say that about many people.
“This is definitely not what I meant when I said I wanted to work with you again,” she said.
Greetings done, Max and Kona stood next to Sayer and surveyed the bodies. The working K9 was all business, ears forward, eyes alert. Max mirrored her intense stare.
“How many?” Max asked in a low voice.
“Thirteen. Looks like the bus driver, chaperone, and eleven high school boys…” Sayer trailed off, still not quite sure how to make sense of so many dead.
“What can we do?”
“We think the kidnapper or kidnappers pretended to be cops and pulled the bus over.” Sayer gestured to the abandoned Crown Vic. “I’m still trying to piece together what happened, but I think the bus drove off with the girls and the last missing boy still on board. I was hoping you and Kona could track the bus along the road. Will that even work?”
Max frowned. “How long ago was this?”
Sayer looked at the time. “Jesus, how is it already after five? That means it’s been over twelve hours now.”
He studied the road. “I think Kona can probably track along Route 1 since there’s not much traffic. But if the bus got on a major road or highway, there’s just too many cars, too much churn, the scent is probably gone by now. But let’s give it a shot. If any dog can do it, Kona can.”
At the mention of her name, Kona’s tail wagged a single time.
In response Max ruffled her ears and pulled a bright orange harness from his backpack. “You ready to get to work, girl?”
Kona took a few dancing steps backward with excitement.
“You have anything that smells like the kids?” Max asked while strapping the harness over the dog’s barrel chest.
“The kidnappers dumped all the kids’ cell phones and bags behind the station. I’ll wrangle a few agents to follow you in case you find anything.”
“All right, we’re off.” He squeezed Sayer’s shoulder, then moved toward the gas station. As a former air force pararescuer and experienced field medic, Max moved with th
e purposeful stride of a Special Forces soldier.
Sayer watched as he had Kona sniff around the bags, always amazed at how well Kona seemed to understand exactly what was being asked of her. Once Kona seemed ready, Max flung out his arm toward the road and called out, “Go find!”
The dog started toward Route 1 where she was directed, but then she stopped and turned in a circle, nose working frantically in the air.
Kona veered off toward the bodies behind the gas station and Max called out, “Hold!”
The wolfish dog froze, but leaned forward like she was ready to bolt.
“She smelling the bodies?” Sayer called out to Max.
He scowled. “Maybe. Though she’s not alerting on them and I can see them right there. She knows I know where they are.” He went over to Kona and rubbed her head.
Kona ignored the attention, intense eyes riveted on the woods behind the old gas station.
Max leaned close and spoke softly to the dog, then stood up and flung his arm at the road again. “Go find, Kona!” he said loudly.
Released from the hold, Kona shot off again toward the woods.
“Hey!” Max shouted, as the dog looked like she was about to careen right into the dead boys. But then Kona jumped over the bodies with a powerful leap. She landed with a huff and turned to look back at Max, letting out a short woof that Sayer could’ve sworn sounded like, “Come on, idiot human.”
“Hold!” Max called again.
Kona followed his command, but was barely able to keep her body still.
“What’s going on?” Sayer hurried over to Max. “Is she alerting on the bodies?”
Max squinted, his intense stare matching Kona’s. “I don’t think so. The alert Kona just gave me wasn’t her cadaver alert. That was her live alert.”
Sayer scanned the dark woods surrounding them on three sides. Her hand drifted to her gun. “We think some of the boys might’ve fought back against the kidnapper, and we only found eleven of them. There should be one more boy…”
“Or maybe one of the kidnappers got hurt and ran off,” Max whispered, hand going to his own gun.
Kona took an impatient stutter step backward and woofed again.
“She’s definitely telling me that there’s someone alive out there that came from this gas station.” Max held up a hand to calm Kona. “What’s behind the woods that way?”
Sayer quickly pulled up the map on her phone. “Occoquan Bay National Wildlife Refuge is about half a mile to the east. Nothing there but grassland and marshes.”
Max nodded, attention sharply honed in the direction Kona was pointing with her nose. “Kona and I will search ’em out.”
“You sure? I could call in an infrared helicopter,” Sayer said.
“No way. If someone’s hiding out there, it could take hours to find them that way. Kona will take me right to him.”
“You want a few agents with you?”
“Nah. When we’re out in the backwoods, we hunt better alone.” Max’s eyes shone in Sayer’s flashlight.
She wanted to go with Max, or at least send a few agents with him, but she knew that he was right. She’d seen how the man and dog worked together. Someone trying to keep up would just slow them down and alert potential bad guys to their presence. “All right, Max,” she reluctantly agreed. “But promise you’ll pull back and call in reinforcements if you find anything.”
Without a word, Max pulled on a headlamp and saluted acknowledgment. He hurried to where Kona was practically coming out of her skin with excitement.
“Go find!” he said again. This time giving Kona permission to head deeper into the woods.
She flew off into the night and Max followed.
Sayer watched them disappear. Maybe the girls and the missing boy had somehow all managed to escape and were hiding out there in the darkness? She clung to that idea, because if they weren’t out there somewhere, where were they?
UNKNOWN LOCATION
Kate Brooks couldn’t stop shivering. Every time she thought she had her body under control, another wave ran along her limbs like an electrical current, muscles clenching involuntarily.
Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, tingling from lack of blood. Her body felt stiff against the cold bus seat. The monster who had done this put a chain on the emergency exit and a metal bar across the front door. Now they were alone, locked on this bus God knows where.
She closed her eyes and tried to make sense of everything happening right now. So many gunshots. The boys fighting. Dying. The twisting drive ending at the large, arched doorway. Then he dragged the girl named Rowena off the bus while she screamed and screamed.
The sound of her screams felt like they echoed for hours.
Kate looked out the window. Her breath fogged up the cold glass.
Through the smeared condensation, faint blue moonlight illuminated their surroundings. An arched cement ceiling was held up by dozens of square columns that extended off into the darkness. Though they were clearly inside some kind of structure, no walls were visible. The uneven floor looked like it was made of sand.
It felt like a surrealist painting of an endless room filled with hundreds of columns. Or maybe just something out of one of her vivid nightmares.
Refocusing inside the bus, Kate could just barely see the two girls across the aisle. One was slack-jawed, eyes dull. She was slumped forward with her head bowed against the bus seat in front of her. The other’s eyes darted around uncontrollably. Her breath came in short bursts like a chuffing steam engine. They had both slid their bound hands forward and were now holding on to each other, fists wrapped tightly together.
Following their lead, Kate scooted up over her hands and slid them off the end of her feet. The strain on her shoulders immediately released and she let out a hard breath of relief. She wiggled her fingers. They were sluggish but responded, despite feeling like they belonged to someone else.
Kate looked back out at the bizarre chamber.
When the man had left them there, he’d told them that he would kill anyone who spoke. Terrified and knowing he would follow through on his threat, they were left clinging together, silent.
Now they were here in this confusing place. The only other thing visible outside the window was a pile of half-open wooden crates scattered nearby. Kate could just make out the words, “Walters Art,” stenciled on the side.
Was that their captor’s name, Walter?
Another wave of shivers convulsed her muscles and Kate was suddenly overwhelmed by everything happening.
With nothing but the muted sounds of panic drifting around the bus, she closed her eyes and willed herself to remain still. To remain focused. To remain sane.
OCCOQUAN BAY NATIONAL WILDLIFE REFUGE, WOODBRIDGE, VA
Max followed his search dog, Kona, through the tall trees, headlamp illuminating a narrow circle of light in front of him. There were no insects buzzing, no animals rustling, just the sound of Kona’s huffing breath and Max’s heavy boots hitting the frozen ground.
Kona moved forward with deliberate speed and they eventually emerged from the woods into an open area where Max was startled by the brilliant sky. Despite the impending dawn, the Milky Way still arced above him like a celestial river. The pale gray moon hung low, almost kissing the flat marshes that stretched out in front of him.
Kona made wide arcs back and forth, her nose in the air, following the edges of the scent cone left behind by whomever they were hunting. She occasionally glanced back to make sure Max was keeping up.
Max responded to her check-ins with a silent wave, not wanting to alert anyone.
As they continued eastward, the scrubby grass grew taller and the ground grew hard. Max realized that they were heading into the marsh and he was thankful that the shallow water was frozen solid or he would be ankle-deep here.
Kona’s arcs began to narrow and she zigzagged a few more times before she sat with a low woof. Her tall ears swiveled forward toward a low knoll rising up out of the grass.
Max’s breath came slow and steady. His hand rested on his gun as he scanned ahead.
An old wooden shed sat in the clearing, rotting door hanging open. The thing looked at least fifty years old, probably built by one of the fishermen who lived on this land before it became a wildlife preserve.
Max gestured for Kona to come to him. Knowing they were on the hunt together, she moved low to the ground. When she reached his side, they slowly crept forward toward the abandoned shed.
In the predawn light, a substantial streak of blood was visible leading into the partially collapsed structure.
Max slid his gun out and said, “FBI. Come out with your hands up.”
A low moan drifted from the shed.
Max quickly closed the distance to the door. He paused against the wall, listening.
Another soft moan.
Max signaled to Kona to hang back and he swung around into the doorway.
“FBI,” he called loudly, gun trained along the beam of his headlamp into the small room.
The room was empty except for a pile of rotting burlap that moved slightly as he approached. Barely breathing, Max yanked aside the tattered fabric.
Underneath, a teenage boy lay curled on his side, wrapped like a mummy in the burlap. Peeking from the pile, his face was like porcelain, slick and white. A pool of blood spread from his upper leg, creating a damp, half-frozen patch beneath him.
“Hey.” Max slid his gun away and called Kona over. “Hey, FBI, I’ve got you.”
The boy’s eyes opened and he croaked, “Help,” through blue lips.
“I’m with the FBI. You’re safe.” Max called Sayer and gave her their location, then pulled out his small first aid kid. The boy was so cold he wasn’t even shivering, a bad sign. But the fact that he was still mostly conscious and able to speak meant he wasn’t beyond hope.
Cut to the Bone Page 5
