Chapter Twenty-Three

R ain doused the windshield, only to be flung aside by Olivia’s windshield wipers. It was as if the deluge had waited for the perfect time to slow them down as they headed up to Charleston. The air in the car was as thick as the storm outside.

“Alasdair has been playing Mila this whole time!” Brock growled. “How could she not realize that he’s been using her to prey upon vulnerable kids?”

Mila had the innocence of the teens she lured to their living nightmares. She had allowed herself to be swept away by it, by this man who looked like he could work women like dough. Olivia, herself, had commented how he seemed too good to her, until that day that he got after her for her tattoo. A.C. She had branded herself as his and he didn’t like that. “He seemed like a good guy.” Olivia shook her head. “ Seemed. He probably is some kind of sociopath who manipulates anyone he can get his hands on. The charming smile. The constant ‘looking out for her’ while all the time, he was using her.” Olivia clenched the steering wheel in her hands, willing Charleston to be closer than the hour drive the rain had extended it to.

Brock leaned against the window, breathing out a sigh that fogged the window before evaporating once again. “Susanna, though.” The pain stabbed through his voice at the mere mention of her name. Olivia knew. She felt it, too. Even though the cold realization gripped both of them that they might be too late, she wasn’t giving up on her.

No. It’s not going to be too late. We’re going to make it to her.

It had taken time to procure a warrant to search the small ship, even with a rush on it. Olivia had called for backup ahead of time, guaranteeing they’d be waiting for them on the dock, ready to spring into action when they showed up with the search warrant.

“She was going to get out of here! She was going to be a surf instructor, she was going to have a better life for herself!” Brock splayed his hand in frustration before curling his fingers into a fist. “She was going to make it.”

“She is going to make it.” Olivia corrected, bolting her eyes on the road before her. “Because we are going to get to that shipment before it leaves.”

Brock nodded. The rest of the painful drive passed in silence, minus the downpour on the car roof and windshield. When they got to the harbor at Charleston, the rain tried to conceal the ship that was waiting at the dock, ready to take off. The ship wasn’t the huge cargo ship that usually left the port, which was a good thing, considering they had so much space to search.

“See? We’re on time.” Olivia wasn’t sure if she was telling herself this, or Brock. Nevertheless, she shot from the car, trusting Brock to be right behind her and approached a man standing in a raincoat on the dock. The rain came down in waterfalls now, pelting the crew. Olivia gave the dock a perusal glance before approaching the man wrapped in a raincoat. The waterproof surface did nothing to erase the misery from his eyes at having to stand out here in the rain while the shipment was delayed. The rounded face and dark eyes told her this wasn’t Alasdair, who looked like he wasn’t around. Maybe he was on the ship?

Olivia’s badge nearly slipped through her hand as she flipped it open, trusting the rain to do a nice job of washing it before she stashed it away again. “FBI. Are you the shipment manager?”

“Yes.” He gave a gruff nod.

“We have a warrant to search this ship.” Olivia finished. She glanced over at the other local officers gathering, ready to do their part to help her and Brock discover if anyone was on board.

A sigh rattled the man to his bones, but he stepped aside. “Go ahead. How long is this going to take?”

Brock chilled the man with a glare. “It’ll take as long as it takes.”

He and Olivia climbed aboard the ship, followed by the backup they had requested. As the officers shouted to one another where to go and where to start searching first, Olivia pondered where would be the best place to start looking.

“We’ve got the deck,” the leading officer assured them.

“We’ll take below deck,” Brock stated before darting off to the cabin. The rain eased the drenching soak it had graced them with, but the constant percussion of the heavy raindrops hollowed out the voices, drowning them out over the constant drumming.

Olivia started with the control room, knowing the chances of their missing kids being there were not likely. They were never zero, though, and that right there might be enough for Alasdair to stash some victims away in the least likely of places. All she found was the control board and flashing lights, a window that overlooked the soaking deck. She wasted no time before moving on down below deck .

A darkened staircase led down to the belly of the ship where the crew’s cabins lined the wall. Having evacuated everyone onto the deck, Olivia and Brock took turns opening the doors and giving the rooms a quick but thorough search. Olivia threw herself to her hands and knees, looking under the beds while Brock rifled through the tiny closets on the other end. Thankfully, the rooms were simple and small enough that anyone hiding would’ve been found quickly.

Olivia tore the place apart but found no sign of Susanna or any kidnapping victims. The rooms all looked perfectly normal, some with made beds, some without. They went through each of the crew’s cabins before Olivia relinquished a sigh of defeat.

“Well. Now we get the distinct pleasure of helping look through each and every container.”

Brock nodded. “This is going to take a while. I don’t think she’s here, though.”

Olivia started back up the stairs. “No?”

“No. The crew and the manager were far too comfortable with us looking around. If something was illegal, he’d be sweating bullets right now.”

He was right. Hating this thought, Olivia made it back onto the deck and gave her hair a fresh soaking of rain. “Unless no one knows.”

They started on the other end of the ship, swinging containers open to set some of the medical supplies aside. Olivia didn’t care how messy it was, only that everything was searched with a fine-toothed comb. With each open container, she grew more and more disheartened. The ripping open revealed nothing but box upon box of medical supplies. Frustrated by the fruitless search that did little more than waste their time, Olivia kept going, even calling out on occasion.

“Hello? Hello! Can anyone hear me?”