missile site from the rest of the facility.
'Detective Chapman?' one asked. 'The young lady is just a short ride away from here-the roommate of the missing girl. The police are on the bridge now, and Detective Draper is here already, sir, if you'll follow me.'
I had dressed for the foul weather. I expected it would be a long and unpleasant day. The navy rain jacket I wore was a gift from a friend in the Hostage Negotiation Unit. It had an NYPD logo on the front, and the words TALK TO ME on the back.
It was as though we had landed on the dunes of the Vineyard's South Beach. There was a wide swath of sand rising to crests covered with beach grass and bayberry bushes. Gulls patrolled the choppy shoreline, picking at empty shells that had washed up among the strands of seaweed.
A ranger led us up over the dunes on one of the many trails that bordered a small maritime forest of gnarled pines and cottonwoods. I paused on the incline, and as I looked off in every direction there were footprints in the sand-far too many footprints to be of any value in an investigation.
The second ranger brought up the rear.
'This is a public park now?' I asked.
'Yes, ma'am. Seven miles of beach. Not usually empty like this, but we've cleared it of all the birdwatchers and bathers 'cause of the storm.' The entire skyline of Manhattan unfolded to the northwest, under a mantle of dark clouds. I'd never seen the sight from a beach, and it was one more painful reminder to look over at the great hole where the twin towers used to stand.
Mike and Mercer were standing still on the highest point of the dune, atop a sun-bleached wooden staircase, trying to get their bearings as they scoped the area. I joined them.
Ranger Barrett was answering their questions. 'It's operated as a seasonal park only. Pam just had a summer job with us. In fact, Sunday was her last day.'
'She was here?'
'Yes, sir. Came here Sunday morning. She signed in.'
'And left when?' Mike asked, cupping his hand to his ear. The wind was carrying away our words.
'I have no idea, I'm sorry to say.'
'Why not?'
'Well, it was actually an unusual situation, Detective. We don't have a very big staff, and the Park Service pulled some of them out for a special program they were running at another facility.'
'Governors Island,' Mercer said. 'Had to be the muster.'
'That's exactly right, sir,' Barrett said. 'Since it was Pam's last day and all, I don't think there was anyone around to care whether she signed out or not.'
'But she was assigned right here?'
'Yes, yes, she was.'
Men were scrambling up and down the dunes, moving in and out of a dozen or so structures, most without windows or roofs. 'Who are they?' Mike asked.
'All the civilians are gone, sir. Those are rangers that have been called in for the search. And a number of your men from the local precinct.'
Mike took a single latex glove from his rear pocket. He walked onto the beach and scooped a handful of sand, filling two fingers of the glove and knotting its top. 'Elise Huff. The sand in the green blanket around her body. Could be the guy had her out here. They can com pare this to Dickie's sample.'
A small caravan of black Crown Vics approached in the distance, undoubtedly carrying Dickie Draper and our new witness. 'Where can we do this interview?' Mike asked, starting to walk down the far side of the dunes.
'Can you see that gazebo?' Ranger Barrett said. 'The long building behind it was the old officers' club. There are still some benches in there. It's all I've got for shelter.'
'Don't trip, Coop,' Mike said.
There were Virginia creepers and bayberry bushes criss-crossing the paths, concealing huge blocks of cement that were visible in the sand every few feet.
'Cannon casements,' the ranger said. 'The fort was active from 1917 until it was decommissioned in 1974.'
'Local kids play here?' Mike asked.
'That's one of our biggest problems,' he said. 'Talk about an attractive nuisance.'
Barrett sidestepped the trail and kicked some sand off a rusting metal door that was set into a cement block. There was a large red X sprayed onto the door.
'These bunkers are everywhere. Kids in the neighborhood know their positions better than my rangers do.'
'Why the X?' I asked.
'That means someone has checked inside this morning, made sure there's-well, no body. No evidence.'
At the base of the sandy hill off to my right was an enormous concrete arc the size of a Greek amphitheater, its open side facing the ocean. Two uniformed cops were walking up and down its many layered facade, also looking for clues.
'What's that?' Mike asked.
'When this place boasted antiaircraft guns and giant cannons, here and in Sandy Hook, New Jersey, that were supposed to make New York impregnable to attack by sea, the batteries were all right there where you stood, on the highest dunes. If the enemy overran the fort, the thick arc meant the guns couldn't be turned around and used against the city.'
'And inside?'
'A metal gate shuts off the interior space in case of attack. It's got a warren full of empty rooms dug underground that used to hold the gunpowder and artillery shells.'
Mike shook his head and started to walk more briskly toward the black cars. 'Get as many man as you can in there. I want every crevice of this place turned inside out, Mr. Barrett.'
'We're short on personnel, sir. With the storm coming so fast-'
'And we're short one girl, Barrett. I'll get you all the cops you need, but you'd better show them every possible hiding place. You sift every grain of sand before you even think about getting off this beach.'
'You believe Pam was abducted from here, Detective? You think something happened to her before she left?'
'I'm thinking nothing good, pal,' Mike called over his shoulder.
Then he put his head down and one hand on top of it to hold his thick black hair out of his eyes. 'Don't know if she's here or in the deep blue yonder or in a better place. But we've got a maniac on the loose- or two.'
He turned to Mercer and me. 'We're looking for a serial rapist who likes to torture his victims and thinks he's safer by killing them. And a despondent Dylan-or his old man-who probably used this park as a playground.'
I could see Dickie Draper through the open side of the former offi cers' club. His weight served him well today. He was anchored upright to the ground despite the wind, while the rest of us were fighting it head-on.
Before I could reach the covered building, there was a huge clap of thunder and a streak of lightning off in the distance. The cloud overhead burst and the rain poured down in torrents. I dashed the rest of the way for cover.
In the far corner of the windowless room, a thin young woman sat alone on a bench, wrapped in a trenchcoat. A policewoman wearing a Suffolk County uniform stood behind her.
'You and me will have to share this one,' Draper said. 'No need to bring in someone from the Queens DA's office till we know what we got.'
'I'd be happy for help, Dickie. But we might as well get right on it.'
Mike turned to Ranger Barrett as I approached the girl. 'Nobody stops. I don't care if they're soaked to the bone. The search goes on until your men find every underground bunker and whatever else is hiding in the sand. I want this girl alive.'
Mercer was on the phone to Peterson to demand more backup. 'I'm Alex Cooper,' I said. 'I'm with the Manhattan District Attorney's Office.'
'This here's Lydia,' Draper said.
I sat opposite her, on another old bench with wobbly legs. She kept looking at Draper as though he had a second head, less than charmed by his manner.
