Page 56 of No Hope of Rescue

“I’m not a little kid,” she says. “I know you’ll do the right thing.” She presses her hands to her face. “I just hate that there seems to be no right thing.”

“My guess is once Brock knows about the phone, he’ll contact this agent and that will be that. He’ll explain he didn’t know about it, and you were too scared to talk about it.” Pause. “We’ll let the FBI do their job, okay?”

More silence. I have to be the one who breaks it this time.

“Agent Trent is waiting right out there to speak with you. You ready to come out?”

“Do I have to get dressed?”

I smile. “No, just put on your robe. He knows you just got out of the hospital.”

I follow her out a few moments later, trailing behind her light blue flannel robe. Brock immediately directs her into one of the two recliner chairs, and she tucks her knees up near her chest.

The agent sits on the coffee table, trying be as casual as possible, and softens his voice. “Hi, Codie. I’m Dylan Trent.”

“I know.” Her voice is barely audible.

“You’re not in any trouble. I just need to ask you some questions about what happened.”

His focus is on her, and though kind, he’s intense.

“Those men who took you—did you recognize any of them? A voice, maybe? We think one of them might be a local.” He reaches out and puts a hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head.

“Maybe I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. Just tell me what happened, from the beginning.”

I hate that she has to relive the experience. So do Brock and Ross—both men are leaning against the back of the sofa, arms folded.

She shrugs. “We were climbing, and then I got to the top and started to see the plane, and two of them came from somewhere, maybe the trees? And they grabbed me.”

“How did they approach you? Did they warn you off?”

“No,” she says. “I started walking to the fuselage, and the snow was deep. I didn’t see any tracks until I got, I don’t know, close enough to see that there were tracks leading out to the left behind it. It scared me, and then I think I turned around to look for my brother. You know, to show him the tracks. I don’t remember much of the rest. One of the men, I think came from the body of the airplane, and I don’t know . . .”

Codie shivers. Brock steps around, unfolds his arms, puts a hand behind her neck, and rubs her shoulder blades in small circles.

“I tried to get away. And then Brock came up over the lip of the ravine, and they shot at him, and he went over, and I can’t—”

“That’s fine,” Trent says. “I don’t want to put you through that right now.”

I appreciate the guy’s sensitivity.

She pauses for a moment to control her trembling, takes a big sigh, and continues. “They sort of dragged me through the snow.”

“Can you tell me anything about what they had with them?”

“One guy went to the edge and said Brock had been swept away. That’s when I started screaming. I don’t know what happened. I think one of them hit me. Then they blindfolded me. So, no. I didn’t see anything. I don’t even remember walking through the snow. I just know that, suddenly, we were in a cabin.”

Brock’s face is white. “I will fucking tear them apart.”

Trent holds up a hand but never takes his eyes off Codie. “Did they bring anything with them?”

Codie thinks for a moment. “They were dragging something big. Two of the men kept arguing about it. And then later, they went back out and brought more wooden crates in. At least that’s what it sounded like.”

“What happened after you got to the cabin?”

“They let me go to the bathroom and took off the blindfold. They locked me in a bedroom and told me if I tried to leave, they would kill me. That’s when they tied me to a chair.” She glances at her wrists. The bruises are fresh. “I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there and cried.”