C. Lawrence - Silent victim

"Should we break in?" Diesel asked.

"As an officer of the law, I wouldn't do something like that without a search warrant," Butts remarked, "but if a private citizen were to do that while I wasn't looking, I would have no way of stopping him."

He proceeded to stare off toward the woods. Diesel whipped a long thin wire out of his pocket, inserted it into the passenger side keyhole, and within seconds, had the door open, leaving no scratch marks.

"Jesus," Butts said with undisguised admiration. "How did you do that?"

"Practice," Diesel said, peering into the front of the van.

There was nothing especially remarkable about the car. Other than the gray tinted windows, which were rather sinister, it appeared to be an ordinary limousine, much like any other. The interior was clean and swept, devoid of clutter. There were two paper Oren's coffee cups in the holder up front, and a couple of granola bars on the passenger side seat. In the back, a khaki sleeping bag was laid out on the seat.

"So that's probably where he kept her," Butts remarked, looking at it. He was very careful not to touch anything, maybe so he could deny having participated in the break-in if it ever came up in court. Cops had to be very careful about these things-without probable cause, a search like this could completely sabotage a case once it came to trial. Lee had seen it happen on more than one occasion, and figured Butts had seen it even more.

Diesel wasn't so delicate-he climbed inside the limo and sniffed around a bit.

"Don't touch anything," Butts instructed. "They might be dusting for prints later."

Diesel nodded. He took a Kleenex from his pocket, and put it between his fingers before picking up the corner of the sleeping bag. He turned it over and looked underneath, revealing a roll of duct tape. He climbed out and dusted off his hands.

"I don't see any blood-but he probably used the duct tape to help subdue her. Well," he said, "shall we go up the trail?"

"Yeah," Butts said. "Let's go."

They crossed the road to the trailhead, where a wooden sign stood at the entrance.

Buttermilk Falls Trail

2 MI. TO FALLS

Lee looked at Butts. "It's very steep. You up to it?"

The detective snorted. "Get on with it, for Christ's sake."

With Lee leading the way, the three of them started up the trail as a brisk wind whipped the tree branches, and the sky began to darken. Within minutes they heard the patter of raindrops on the canopy of leaves above them. Soon the droplets began to thicken, piercing the cover of the forest and falling upon their faces and shoulders, quickly soaking through their clothing.

"Great, just great," Butts muttered as he trudged behind Lee. "That's all we needed."

Charlotte was tired… so very tired. She just wanted it all to end. Trudging up the hill in front of her captor, she stumbled on the rocky trail, her head still fuzzy from the laudanum and whatever he had injected her with. Every time she lost her footing, he poked her with his hiking stick and commanded her to move along. She tried hard not to trip, but she was so tired, and it was so difficult walking with her hands bound in front of her. She didn't know where he was taking her and hardly cared. She just wanted to lie down among the leaves and bushes and go back to sleep.

After falling into his arms in her room the previous night, she had slept a dreamless, drugged sleep, regaining consciousness in a moving vehicle. She was aware that it was now daytime. The light hurt her eyes, even though the windows were tinted, blocking out much of the brightness. After a few moments she realized she was in the back of a limo, lying on a sleeping bag. The glass partition separating her from the driver was closed, but she could see the back of his head from where she lay. When she tried to move, she realized her hands were bound in front of her with duct tape. But the cell phone Lee Campbell had given her was still in her pocket, and she managed to dig her hand in and get out the phone.

Even though her brother didn't like modern technology, she found it fascinating and had often watched her friends at the hospital send text messages. She was afraid to speak lest her abductor would hear her, so she typed out a hurried text message and pretended to be unconscious again. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest, and her head was pounding. She could feel the blood coursing through her temples. But she was aware that this experience was something Martin would have disapproved of, and, in spite of her fear, was filled with a thrilling sense of adventure.

The limo was barreling along a winding road, and as there was a fair amount of road noise, he didn't hear her moving around in the back. After a while she struggled to sit up, clutching the back of the passenger seat to pull herself erect. She could make out the back of his head, and it looked familiar somehow…

Now, struggling up the trail to God only knew where, she tried to figure out why this young man had abducted her, and why her brother hadn't come to rescue her. It didn't make sense-but then, nothing lately made much sense. Above them, the sky darkened, threatening rain. The worse the weather was, she thought, the fewer the chances that they would meet other hikers on the trail, reducing the likelihood of her being rescued. And now, of course, she knew her captor's identity.

His voice came from behind her, cutting the stillness of the summer air.

"It's time for a break. You can sit and rest here."

She stopped walking and lowered herself down on a clump of moss in front of a thick old oak tree. She could hear the rustling of woodland creatures in the bushes, and noticed the air smelled of mint. There was probably some growing wild nearby. She leaned against the oak tree, its jagged bark digging into her back. Still, it was a friendly feeling-she had always liked trees, and found them comforting. A pair of squirrels chattered and scolded them from the branches above. How nice it must be to be a squirrel, she thought, able to climb trees so nimbly and easily. She looked up at them-they jerked their bushy gray tails irritably, their restless little bodies twitching, ever watchful.

She looked up at her captor. He remained on his feet, standing over her, vigilant, peering down the trail behind them, as if afraid they were being followed. His hand holding the walking stick twitched, and he was sweating.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked.

His answer was brusque and businesslike. "To the sacred waters." His voice gave nothing away, but she thought she saw a flicker of vulnerability pass over his face. She decided to take advantage of it-it might be her only chance.

"Why, Eric?" she said softly. "Why are you taking me all the way up here?"

He avoided looking at her. "Because it's my sacred place. This must be done in my most sacred place. We must go to our fate together-then our transformation will be complete."

"What transformation, Eric? What are you talking about?"

He still refused to look at her. "My name is Caleb." "Is that what Martin told you?"

His face reddened, and he tightened his grip on the hiking stick. "I don't care what he told me-he lied to me."

"About what, Eri-Caleb? What did he lie about?" He kicked at a pebble, sending it sliding and bouncing down the trail. "Everything."

"Like what?"

"He told me my mother would come back-that her spirit would be reborn in another person."

She tried to figure out what this meant. Her brother never spoke with her about his patients. She made their appointments, and let them into the waiting room, and occasionally brought them tea, but that was all. She knew little or nothing about their lives, their hopes, their disappointments-or why they were in therapy.