Deadly Stillwater

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.

They were buried alive.

The girls lay on their sides facing one another.

“What have they done to us? What are we going to do?” Shannon asked weakly, sniffling, tears streaming down her face.

“I don’t know,” Carrie answered, using the back of her left hand to wipe away her own tears.

It was time to take stock.

Carrie used the flashlight to search the box.

“What are you looking for?” Shannon asked.