“She’s shocky, and dehydrated,” Webb said. “It’s a nasty tibial break. I’ll stabilize it now, as is, because this long after the injury, there will be significant swelling and they may want to image before reducing it. It’s also going to need major irrigation, and possibly debridement of dead tissue. All that needs to be done in the ER. Best thing I can do for her is get her ready to move the moment the ambo gets here.”
“I don’t think it’s possible she got all the way here from the marsh on that leg by herself,” Meg said.
Webb’s gaze flicked up to her quickly. “I agree. My money is that Hawk will tell you she had help. And that help dropped her off and kept going.”
Meg stood and scanned the area. “Assuming it’s another girl, she’d be long gone by now.”
“Long gone may be relative. They may have sheltered here from the wind and driving rain for hours. And then, by the time it cleared, this one would have already been going into shock and couldn’t go any farther.”
“The other girl would have had to leave her here.”
“That’s one way it could have played out.” Webb unzipped one of the many pockets of his pack and pulled out a small shrink-wrapped silver rectangle. He passed it to Meg. “Open this and shake it out. It’s a space blanket. Tuck it around her, leaving that leg and her left arm uncovered.”
Meg did as directed, unfolding what turned out to be a large blanket made of paper-thin silver plastic sheeting. She snapped it in the air, unfurling its full length, and then carefully tucked it around the girl. “What’s next?”
“We need to get fluids into her, then I’ll work on the leg.” Bending over the girl, he flipped over her left arm, quickly palpated for a vein, then pulled out alcohol swabs and a wrapped, sterile IV needle. “Here, hold this.” He handed Meg a clear bag of saline. “Once I get it set up, you can hold the bag over her and give it a gentle squeeze to let gravity and a little pressure get the flow going faster.” He cleaned the insertion site, opened the needle, pulled the sturdy plastic cover off with his teeth, and deftly inserted it. “Bingo,” he muttered under his breath around the needle cap. He tossed the needle cap and wrapper back in the bag and pulled out a short length of IV tubing. He attached the tubing to the bag, carefully cleared any air in the tube, and then connected it to the IV needle. “Okay, give the bag a gentle squeeze. Easy . . . that’s it. Now, this girl needs some morphine. I don’t want her coming to with no painkillers while we’re wrapping and splinting that leg.” He dug into the bag and pulled out a cartridge and a clear plastic syringe shell. He snapped the cartridge into the shell, made a few quick adjustments of the plunger, and then injected the entire contents into an IV port on the tubing. “That will make her more comfortable. Now, the leg. Officer Berkeley, I could use your hands.”
“Just Berk will do. And anything you need, just say the word,” Berkeley responded, kneeling down beside Webb.
Webb pulled supplies from his bag—a wide, folded length of stiff foam that was orange on one side and blue on the other and stamped with the logo SAM SPLINT, a roll of navy self-adhering wrap bandage, and a sterile, sealed roll of gauze. “I’m glad she’s still out for this because it will hurt like hell even with the morphine. Okay, Berk, before I stabilize the leg, I want to cover this open wound. We’re not going to clean it here because they’ll just do it all over again in the hospital and we don’t want to wash anything into the open wound when we’ve only got limited irrigation fluids. Better to let the ER docs do the real job. We’ll cover it to keep anything else out. Here.” He pulled out another pair of gloves and passed them over to the officer. “Put these on. Risk of blood-borne viruses may be higher in this girl than in other vics her age.”
Webb waited while Berkeley donned the gloves, and then showed him where he wanted him to put his hands. “We need to lift the leg just enough that I can get the gauze under it to wrap it. Put your hands here, and here, under her leg but on either side of the break to stabilize while you lift. It will only need to be for about thirty seconds, but you need to hold steady during that time. Up for it?”
“You bet.” Berkeley slid his hands under the leg. “You say when.”
“Just about there.” Webb unfolded the stiff foam until it was about three feet long and five inches wide. He quickly bent it into a trough with a slightly wider scoop at one end. He caught Berkeley’s curious look and said, “Foam-covered aluminum. You can make it into a custom splint on the fly.” He laid the shaped splint across his thighs and then broke the wrapping on the gauze and loosened off the free end. “Go.”
Berkeley lifted and carefully balanced the leg as Webb wrapped the open wound in several rotations around the calf to cover the protruding bone. Blood quickly soaked into the gauze, saturating it with each subsequent layer. Satisfied the wound would stay as clean as possible during transport, Webb dropped the remaining gauze back into the bag and slipped the splint under the leg. “Okay, now lower the leg into the splint and carefully pull your hands out. I’ve got it from below.”
Together, they transferred the wrapped leg into the splint, then Berkeley held it while Webb secured the splinted leg with the self-adhesive bandage. They lowered the leg to the gravel, and Webb shaped the metal around her heel before he flipped the space blanket over her leg.
Webb checked the draining bag of saline. “That looks good.” He took the girl’s pulse and her blood pressure again. “Everything’s looking better. I’d like to see her wake up though.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to stay unconscious? She still needs to be transported to the ER and then properly treated.”
Webb looked up at Meg. “If she wakes up, she may be able to tell you who you’re looking for. How many you’re looking for. I wish we knew what her name is, but we’ll give it a try anyway. Sometimes they just need a little coaxing to come back.” He bent over the girl. “Honey, can you hear me? My name’s Todd and I’m here to help you. You don’t have to run anymore, you’re safe now. You can wake up now.”
He was rewarded by a whimper and the girl shifted slightly to turn her face away.
Meg clapped a hand down on Webb’s shoulder. “Hold on, move back.” When he looked at her, confusion streaking across his face, she clarified. “Think of what she’s been through. I’d bet that was all orchestrated by men. You could be a threat to her simply because you have a Y chromosome. Let me in there.”
Webb shifted away to kneel by the girl’s splinted leg, and Meg moved in and bent over to brush hair away from the girl’s forehead. “Hey, there. I’m Meg. My dog and I found you and we’re going to make sure you’re safe from now on. Can you talk to us? Tell me your name? We’d really like to get you home to your family.”
The girl’s eyelids fluttered a few times and then finally stayed open. Meg smiled down into eyes that blinked with confusion and pain. “Hi, honey. Can you tell me your name? Your real name, what you call yourself, not any name someone else called you.”
“Mary.”
Meg smiled down at the girl. Progress. “Mary, I have some friends with me. They’re both men”—Mary flinched, but Meg kept right on talking—“but they’re both very kind and they won’t hurt you.” She laid a hand on Webb’s shoulder. “This is Todd and he’s a paramedic. He fixed up your hurt leg and will stay with you until the ambulance gets here.” She held out a hand to the officer. “And this is Berk. Berk is with the police.”
At the word “police” Mary started to scurry backward, whimpering in pain as she dragged her shattered leg over gravel. Webb lunged forward, catching Mary’s hips while Meg grasped her shoulders. As soon as Meg had a hold on her, Webb pulled back, both hands raised in the air so it was clear he wasn’t touching her.
“Mary. Mary, stop struggling. It’s just me. It’s just Meg.” The girl quieted under Meg’s hands and she loosened her grip. “You’re not in trouble and Berk isn’t going to arrest you.”
The girl spoke so quietly that Meg missed what she said.
“Mary, honey,
I couldn’t hear you. Say it again.” Meg bent down and put her ear to Mary’s lips as she spoke again. Then she straightened and looked up at Berk. “She says John told her that if the cops catch them, they’ll go straight to jail and won’t get out ever again.”
Berkeley gave a tiny shake of his head. Meg opened her eyes wide and tipped her head toward the girl lying before them. Tell her that.
Berkeley crouched down so he wasn’t so tall and forbidding and pulled off his uniform cap to reveal bleached-blond hair that made him suddenly look ten years younger. “Mary, the police are here to help you, not to lock you up.”
“But John said—”
“John was wrong. Did you do something to break the law?”
The girl colored and pulled in on herself, her shoulders hunching up to her ears.
“No, wait, I wasn’t clear,” Berk continued. “Did you do something of your own free will to break the law?”
Mary silently shook her head.
“Then you’re not in trouble. We just want to help you, okay?”
A siren wailed in the distance.
“Here they come,” Webb said under his breath. “Get any information you need now. They’re going to take her and run.”
Meg turned back to the girl. “Mary, we found the van, and we know about the rollover in the river.”
Mary’s eyes filled, and a single tear overflowed to run slowly down one pale cheek. “Celia. And Leah.” Her voice was getting clearer with each word.
“Are those the girls who died?”
Her lips clamped together, Mary just nodded.
“Was John driving the van?”
A nod.
“Do you know what happened to John?”
“He was there, then he was gone. We were rolling over and over and everything was flying. I don’t know where he went.”
“Mary, besides John, were you the only one to get out alive?”
The girl’s gaze flicked to Berkeley, and then back to Meg.
“The other girl or girls aren’t in trouble either,” Meg reassured her. “We want to help them too.”
Mary simply stared up at Meg, her lips trembling, her breathing shallow and rapid. Then, “Emma. Emma helped me out of the van and got me this far. When I couldn’t go on, she left.”
“Emma . . . that’s good, honey. Do you know her last name?”
Mary shook her head. “She was the oldest of us and had been there longest. She was always trying to find a way out. Now she’s free.”
“But she needs help and we want to give it to her. Hawk and I will find her. Wait, I didn’t introduce you. This is my search-and-rescue dog, Hawk. Come, Hawk. Sit.” Hawk came close to the girl and sat down close enough for her to touch.
A smile tugged at the corners of the girl’s lips for the first time since she regained consciousness.
“Hawk found you and Hawk will find Emma. Was that it though? Just you and Emma?”
“Yeah.”
The siren wailed closer.
“The ambulance is almost here, honey. And they’re going to take you to the hospital.” Meg looked up at Berkeley, a question in her eyes. He answered with a single nod. “And Berk is going to stay with you. To keep you safe.”
“What about you?” Mary asked, a tremor in her voice.
“Hawk and I are going to find Emma. And after we do, we’ll come visit you in the hospital.”
The ambulance pulled up, parking beside the police cruiser. Meg was relieved when two women got out, pulled a gurney from the back, and started to weave their way through the support beams.
Meg and Berkeley moved out of the way while Webb updated them on her status, what he’d done to stabilize her, and the drugs he’d provided.
Meg dug a card out of her SAR bag and handed it to Berkeley. “My cell is on there. Can you call me and update me as to her status?”
“Sure can.”
“Depending on where this search goes, I may be out of touch for a while, but leave a message. I’ll get it when I’m back in range.”
“Will do.”
Meg and Webb stood aside as Mary was loaded into the back of the ambulance, and then the ambulance drove away with lights and sirens running and Berkeley following close behind. He waved as he pulled out.
“She’s in good hands,” Webb said. “They’re taking her to the nearest trauma center that’s accepting patients, and Berk will stay with her. So, don’t worry about her, just concentrate on what you have to do now.”
“Which is feed and water Hawk, and down an energy bar myself because this other kid has a pretty long head start on us. I’m afraid that if this Emma knows the area, she’s heading for the most remote place possible. I did my homework before we came and I’ve lived in Virginia all my life.”
“You think you know where she’s gone?”
“I know where she might have. The Great Dismal Swamp is only a couple of miles west of here.”
“The Great Dismal Swamp? Seriously?”
“Seriously. It’s something like one hundred thousand acres of swampland, basically unpopulated, and filled with countless places for a young girl to hide. But she could also get into serious trouble. She might think it’s just a giant state park, but it’s a designated nature refuge with untamed swamplands and all the normal predatory wildlife that live in that kind of habitat. They would consider her easy prey. I need to find her ASAP.” She looked out over the football field and into the houses and trees that bordered it. She knew what lay beyond. “This could be a hell of a chase.”
CHAPTER 10
Scent Article: an object touched only by the subject of the search, which can then be used by a tracking or trailing dog.
Sunday, July 23, 9:24 AM
Deep Creek Bridge
Edge of the Great Dismal Swamp, Chesapeake, Virginia
They jogged through backyards, open fields, and church parking lots, and then followed the George Washington Highway North for a short span over an offshoot of the Elizabeth River. Once over the bridge, the scent trail left the road and cut behind Deep Creek United Methodist church. From that point on, their path hugged the Dismal Swamp Canal.
Meg remembered her high school history lessons about the Dismal Swamp. Originally occupying more than a million acres, it was currently only a tenth of that size. Drained and logged by George Washington starting in the 1760s, millions of Atlantic white cedars, some up to two hundred years old, were cut down to be used for barrel staves for the booming whaling industry, ship masts, and cedar shingles. The area continued to be logged for over two centuries, devastating local ecosystems. An incredibly dangerous place, the swamp was inhabited by bears, bobcats, wolves, cougars, rattlesnakes, copperheads, and cottonmouths. But it was the perfect hideaway for runaway African-American slaves through the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and whole communities sprang up inside the swamp on the many islands hidden away from slave owners. It was more a matter of surviving than thriving, and life was brutally hard, but at least it was on their own terms. During the Civil War, the Great Dismal Swamp became part of the Underground Railroad, but during Reconstruction, as free blacks integrated back into society, the swamp slowly emptied of its human inhabitants.
Now a state park and designated national wildlife refuge, nature was reclaiming her own, but many of the original drainage ditches still existed. The Dismal Swamp Canal, hand dug through the eastern edge of the swamp by slaves, killing untold numbers in the process, opened in 1805 as part of what was now the Atlantic Intracoastal Waterway.
Only thirty-six hours after Hurricane Cole slammed through, the waterway was again in use and the lift bridge was up, allowing a schooner passage north toward the locks, the Elizabeth River and, finally, open ocean.
Meg gave the lift bridge a cursory glance, but Hawk didn’t even blink in its direction. He ran ahead of her on his leash—while they were still inside of the populated area of Chesapeake, she needed to keep him close—his head up and tail high. He had the scent.
; Meg wished she had Scott and Theo with her. Hawk’s nose was good, but nowhere near as sensitive as the bloodhound’s. Of course, Hawk more than made up for that slight shortcoming with stamina, exuberance, and pure willingness to search to the ends of the earth. But now, with a day-old trail, Theo would be an asset. Meg was tempted to call for him, but then brushed the thought aside; Scott and Theo were needed elsewhere, and possibly more than a single life rested in their hands.
They’d handle this search alone.
The trail led them south, with neighborhoods of single-family homes on their right, and the open water of the Dismal Swamp Canal to the left. Meg watched Hawk carefully. Their morning had already been full, but she had the feeling it would have nothing on the rest of the day. Emma probably had a day’s lead on them, but they had endurance and training on their side. If Emma had fled to the swamp for safety, trying to stay away from populated areas, she would have had to hole up for the night as soon as she lost the light.
It would have been a terrifying night, alone in the dark, with only the sounds of wild animals for company. Meg hoped the sounds were the only company she’d experienced. Predators in the swamp would see her as easy pickings. Meg knew that if Hawk led her in the right direction—and she was sure he did—there was a chance that they wouldn’t find the girl alive.
“Hawk, stop.” The dog immediately halted, looking up at her, breathing hard. “Take a minute, buddy. I need a sec.” She shrugged out of her SAR pack and quickly searched through it for the weapons she carried: a folding, spring-loaded tactical knife, which she tucked into a zippered pocket in her yoga pants, and her SAR knife, nestled in a wrist sheath, which she quickly strapped onto her left forearm. For a brief moment, she regretted leaving her service revolver back home in the gun safe, but shrugged it off. She would have never known she’d need it for a hurricane search, and there would have been no safe place to store the gun last night at the community center.
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