the dates of the three abductions that we know about, and that the guy is probably a hunter or avid outdoorsman to be that familiar with the Glades, with little to no nightlife because he’s always too busy with his prey to go out for drinks after work, that might give us some hits.”
“It also might give you a huge headache with hundreds of tips that lead nowhere, people ratting out the coworkers they can’t stand, just to cause them trouble.”
Drew shrugged. “I can’t let the fear of false tips guide my decisions. If Willow thinks it’s a good idea to publish our theories and an updated profile, we will. I’ll hire some temps to man the phones if I have to. I don’t want another Mary Watkins happening on my watch. So I’ll take any help that I can at this point, even if it means dealing with the crazies over a tip line.”
Drew shoved away from his desk and stood. “I hope that Miss Brighton can give us more details to add to the ones you gleaned. A description of the vehicle she was hauled around in would be a great start. Maybe her blindfold wasn’t always tight and she caught a glimpse of something, anything, that we can use to figure out the vehicle type.”
Zack strode to the office door ahead of Drew. “While you and your guys interview Kaylee, I’ll get a fresh map and work up new plans for tomorrow’s round of searches. I’ll brief the teams when they get back today so we’ll be ready to go bright and early. God willing, we’ll find Sue Ellen and have our killer in custody by tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter Nine
Several hours later Zack stood in another conference room directing the searchers on the plan of attack for tomorrow morning. He leaned over the table and drew a red square on the large map of the Everglades spread out on top. Inside the square were smaller squares with GPS coordinates and the initials of the team who would search each area, all of the grids much closer to Mystic Glades this time.
Because they were starting over.
“Now that you’ve each selected your search grid, make sure you stick to that grid so that we cover as much ground as possible. No overlaps.”
He studied the mix of law-enforcement personnel and civilians, twenty-two men and women standing around the table, eleven two-person teams, as they wrote down information about their assigned search areas and looked at the map. Most of them he knew from working together over the past few weeks doing these laborious searches, like police veterans Robert Spear and Dennis Howard. Some he’d only met at this meeting, fresh teams that were just now joining the other volunteers to help out, including two Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation officers, Jasper Carraway and Gene Theroux.
Gene was a friend of Cole’s and had worked in conjunction with the Collier County Sheriff’s Office on many a search-and-rescue operation over the years. Jasper was a veteran from the Northwest Regional FFW Office in the state’s panhandle. He’d taken vacation for the express purpose of driving down here to help. All of these men and women had volunteered their personal time to slog through the mosquito-laden, alligator-infested swamp looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“Some of you know the routine already but some of you are new so it bears repeating. We’ll all meet in the parking lot at zero nine hundred sharp. From there we’ll caravan out to the search grid where some deputies will establish our base of operations, providing us food, water, medical supplies, basically any support we might need. That’s the rendezvous point for everyone at day’s end. Your shifts end at sundown, which is about nineteen-hundred this time of year. For the civilians among you, that’s nine in the morning to about seven at night, with breaks whenever you need them. If we find something promising, we’ll mark the spot and head straight there the next day using four-wheelers to save time. Then we’ll continue the search
“It also might give you a huge headache with hundreds of tips that lead nowhere, people ratting out the coworkers they can’t stand, just to cause them trouble.”
Drew shrugged. “I can’t let the fear of false tips guide my decisions. If Willow thinks it’s a good idea to publish our theories and an updated profile, we will. I’ll hire some temps to man the phones if I have to. I don’t want another Mary Watkins happening on my watch. So I’ll take any help that I can at this point, even if it means dealing with the crazies over a tip line.”
Drew shoved away from his desk and stood. “I hope that Miss Brighton can give us more details to add to the ones you gleaned. A description of the vehicle she was hauled around in would be a great start. Maybe her blindfold wasn’t always tight and she caught a glimpse of something, anything, that we can use to figure out the vehicle type.”
Zack strode to the office door ahead of Drew. “While you and your guys interview Kaylee, I’ll get a fresh map and work up new plans for tomorrow’s round of searches. I’ll brief the teams when they get back today so we’ll be ready to go bright and early. God willing, we’ll find Sue Ellen and have our killer in custody by tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter Nine
Several hours later Zack stood in another conference room directing the searchers on the plan of attack for tomorrow morning. He leaned over the table and drew a red square on the large map of the Everglades spread out on top. Inside the square were smaller squares with GPS coordinates and the initials of the team who would search each area, all of the grids much closer to Mystic Glades this time.
Because they were starting over.
“Now that you’ve each selected your search grid, make sure you stick to that grid so that we cover as much ground as possible. No overlaps.”
He studied the mix of law-enforcement personnel and civilians, twenty-two men and women standing around the table, eleven two-person teams, as they wrote down information about their assigned search areas and looked at the map. Most of them he knew from working together over the past few weeks doing these laborious searches, like police veterans Robert Spear and Dennis Howard. Some he’d only met at this meeting, fresh teams that were just now joining the other volunteers to help out, including two Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation officers, Jasper Carraway and Gene Theroux.
Gene was a friend of Cole’s and had worked in conjunction with the Collier County Sheriff’s Office on many a search-and-rescue operation over the years. Jasper was a veteran from the Northwest Regional FFW Office in the state’s panhandle. He’d taken vacation for the express purpose of driving down here to help. All of these men and women had volunteered their personal time to slog through the mosquito-laden, alligator-infested swamp looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“Some of you know the routine already but some of you are new so it bears repeating. We’ll all meet in the parking lot at zero nine hundred sharp. From there we’ll caravan out to the search grid where some deputies will establish our base of operations, providing us food, water, medical supplies, basically any support we might need. That’s the rendezvous point for everyone at day’s end. Your shifts end at sundown, which is about nineteen-hundred this time of year. For the civilians among you, that’s nine in the morning to about seven at night, with breaks whenever you need them. If we find something promising, we’ll mark the spot and head straight there the next day using four-wheelers to save time. Then we’ll continue the search
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