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“I don’t want to create a panic, Detective,” the mayor asserted. “We put this video out there, there’s a chance we’ll create hysteria. Hell we’ve got calls coming in by the dozens from people worried that every van that drives by carries a kidnapper.”

“So what? You don’t want help from citizens?”

“No, I do,” the mayor answered. “But I got calls today where we’ve got three different panel vans stopped along Grand Avenue by you guys because somebody called in a tip with two or three big men in a van.”

Mac looked incredulous. “Heaven forbid we disrupt traffic on Grand Avenue trying to find these guys. “My gosh,” he mocked, “a voter might call City Hall to complain and you might have to do some work.”

An agitated Duffy interceded. “All the mayor is saying, Detective, is that people are on edge and panicky. If this gets out, that only adds to it. We don’t want a panic. Hell, I’ve heard people on the radio talking about the need to carry a gun to defend themselves.”

“Great, just great. That’s all we need,” the mayor complained, “someone to up and shoot some family guy driving along in a van because it matches the descriptions all over the news.”

Mac wouldn’t have it.

“Jesus Christ, whose side are you two on?”

“Hey,” Duffy yelled.

“I resent the implication…” the mayor started.

Mac thundered on.

“I could give a flying fuck about your, frankly, ridiculous concerns,” Mac said pointing at Duffy and then to the mayor, “or how inconvenient its release could be politically.” The biggest crime story in the country was taking place in St. Paul, and Mac suspected the mayor didn’t like the glare.

“Now just a minute…” the mayor started.

“All I care about — all anyone in this room should care about — is finding those girls,” Mac shouted, slamming his fist on the conference table. “Everything else, everything, politics, who’s running this investigation, whose backside might be exposed, all of that shit is secondary. For Christ sake, I’m only talking about releasing the video to law enforcement, not to the general public. Although, the more I think about it, the more I think we ought to do that as well. By getting this out, we increase our odds of finding the girls. The risk is worth the reward.”

“You’d like to release it to the whole public?” the mayor asked, stunned.

Mac, seeming equally stunned, replied, “Hell yes. At least the first part, where they’re driving on the road, path, through the field, sure you bet. Have the media run it every half hour. Who knows what we’ll find. There’s nothing problematic in that. The rest of it, we hold back and only have law enforcement review it.”

“Christ, we’ll have calls coming in by the truck load and a huge panic. Especially if the whole video gets out,” the mayor pressed. “And I bet it will.”

“Since when does the mayor’s office tell us how to investigate?” Mac asked, up and out of his chair, pointing while Rock reached for his arm to pull him back. “It’s fucking fundamental to do this. We need to get as many eyes on this as possible, not as few. This is not something to cover up. It’s the difference between police work and politics.”

“ That’s enough,” the mayor bellowed. “If you can’t keep your cool, Detective, you can go grab a barstool at that pub of yours.”

“Got all the answers don’t ya,” Duffy added derisively.

Mac kicked a chair out of the way and moved toward Duffy, his fists balled, but Lich and Rock jumped in front of him and pushed him back to his chair.

“You’re no good to the chief if you’re not in this room,” Lich said quietly through clenched teeth. “So dial it the hell back.”

Riles jumped in, casual.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Mayor,” the veteran detective said, shaking his head. “We’re talking about the chief’s daughter. There isn’t a cop out there who would compromise this and release the whole video. McRyan’s right, we should get the whole thing to other law enforcement agencies and the front end out to the public.”

The mayor looked at Duffy, who then looked over to Burton, who’d remained passive through the whole blow up, taking it all in.

“What do you think?” Duffy asked Burton.

“Like I said,” Riles added one last time, staring straight at Burton, “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

Burton stood quietly for a moment, scratching his chin with his right index finger. After a moment, he nodded and spoke.

“I think McRyan is right. We should get the video out. It can only help. And we get it out to both the public and law enforcement. Mac, one part that maybe I disagree with is, does law enforcement need to see the part where the girls are going into the ground? What can other cops tell us about that?”

Mac shrugged, “Probably not much.”

“I think that’s right,” Burton answered. “We get the first part out to the public and police and see if anyone recognizes the road, area, or any landmarks.”

“Thanks,” Riley said. Mac nodded his approval from his chair, and tension drained from the rest of the boys.

“I’ll get it started,” Peters said, and then he turned to another. “Paddy, get a copy and then let’s get this e-mailed to all the police and sheriff’s departments. I’ll start making some calls.”

“Done,” Paddy said.

“What else?” Riles asked.

“I gotta work on Plan B,” Burton answered.

“Which is what?”

“Talk to Flanagan and Hisle. We have to let them know what’s going on and prepare the ransom,” Burton answered. “If we don’t find these guys, we’re going to have to make a money drop.”

16

“ Hello, girls.”

The first sensation was thirst. Her mouth felt dry as she slowly moved her tongue over her lips, then smacked her lips together and exhaled lightly. She felt groggy and lethargic as she moved her left arm out from under her head and felt the skin of her right bicep scrape along the wood and dirt. Taking in a deep breath, she smelled dirt and wood, new wood, like the plywood she’d smelled two weeks ago up at her folks’ cabin when they were building a gazebo. Was she still asleep and dreaming? The smell wasn’t right. Why would she smell that? Where the heck was she?

She opened her eyes to pitch blackness. She blinked her eyes and strained to focus, but no light seeped in through window shades or under a door.

Carrie Flanagan lifted her head up and banged the right side hard, just above her ear, against something above her.

“Ow!” she exclaimed as she brought her head back down. The feeling of pain was quickly overtaken by panic. She flipped off her left side and onto her back, and her right hand felt another body.

“Jesus!” she yelped as she jumped back, hitting her head and back against the hard wood.

The other body didn’t move.

“Hello,” Carrie whispered but there was no movement. She reached over with her right arm, looking for the other body, when her hand hit something round and metallic. She grabbed it. It was a flashlight. Carrie turned it on.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Carrie ran her hands along the top of the box and the left side.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Shannon Hisle slowly awoke. Carrie reached for her arm.

“Shannon, wake up! Wake up!”

When Shannon’s eyes fully opened, her screams matched those of Carrie’s a few seconds earlier.

“Carrie! Carrie! Oh my God, where are we! What have they done to us? What have they done to us?”

Both girls frantically felt around the box with their hands and feet, pushed at the top, and kicked at the end of the wood box.

After a few minutes of frantic pushing, kicking, and screaming, the girls settled some. Both women were breathing hard, sweating, still wildly looking around, disbelieving where they were.

Where they were was a wood box. It was maybe two feet high, four feet across and six feet long.

And it was solid. They weren’t going anywhere.