by hand. There was a rotating auger and mini excavator parked in the yard, but this root cellar was a complete question mark. We couldn’t risk the machinery, or the vibrations it would cause.
Three soldiers in fatigues and headlamps got right to it. They worked with sawed-off shovels, taking shallow scoops as quickly and as carefully as possible.
Even the soil itself had to be loaded out, bucket by bucket, for transport to the Bureau’s forensics lab.
Ned, Sampson, and I split up. John helped haul equipment at first, and then dirt, as the digging got under way. Mahoney ran interference on Rodney Glass, who was sleeping off the last of his scopolamine in the back of a Bureau car. As for what Glass would say, or even remember, when he woke up, I couldn’t be bothered right now. I had other things on my mind.
I spent my time with two of the Bureau’s witness-victim specialists, Agents Wardrip and Daya. Both of them had extensive backgrounds in child and trauma psychology and knew a great deal about the impact that something like this could have on a kid. Survival was just the beginning.
I told them everything I knew about the case, but it was a tough conversation. We needed to be ready for the best and worst possible outcomes at the same time. The longer this went on, the harder it was to stay optimistic.
But then around seven thirty, everything changed.
I was outside with Wardrip and Daya when word started circulating that the crew had found something. We dropped everything and ran inside.
As I came to the edge of the stall, I saw one of the three soldiers, up to his waist in the hole. He was conferring with the special agent in charge from DC, while the other two were crouched down under the floorboards, furiously pulling dirt away from one side with their hands.
So far, the digging had exposed only an old stone and mortar wall under the barn. But now they’d come to a wooden frame of some kind, and beneath that, the beginnings of a steel panel. Or maybe a door.
I could hear the first soldier talking with the SAC now. He was excited, and his voice carried above all the other chatter around me.
“Sir, I don’t think we’ve been digging out the root cellar all this time,” he said. “
EVERYTHING INTENSIFIED AS our focus narrowed. Nobody said much while the crew cleared material out of that hole faster than ever. A bucket brigade went up, passing the dirt out of the barn, hand to hand.
Several times, the digging stopped and the soldiers pounded on the door with a shovel.
“Anyone there? Ethan? Zoe?”
So far, there was no answer.
As soon as they’d cleared enough space to cut a hole, two of the crew scrambled out and another soldier climbed down with a reciprocating saw.
A couple of seconds later, the barn filled up with a grinding, squealing sound as he drilled straight in. Then he changed direction and started slicing right through the steel.
It didn’t take long. Once most of the panel was cut, the soldiers used a pry bar to pull it back into the hole, rather than letting it fall through.
Then they cleared out and two EMTs took their place. I was less than six feet away from the digging. Several more medical staff waited nearby with a crash cart and two gurneys. There were also three ambulances in the yard, and two Sikorsky helicopters with aeromedical teams waiting out on the road.
One EMT got down on his belly and crawled straight back into the dark. The other handed through a medical field kit and then followed behind.
Everyone else seemed to hold their breath at the same time. In the silence, I said a prayer.
THEN ALMOST RIGHT away, one of the EMTs called up to us. His voice was hoarse — and excited. “Someone’s in here,” he said.
We waited. Everything was silent now. Everyone hopeful … yet afraid.
“We’ve got ’em. They’re both here.”
The rescuer kept his voice low, maybe for the kids’ sake, but I don’t think anything could have stopped the cheer that went up in that barn.
There were handshakes, and hugs, and tears on more than a few faces. The feeling of relief was indescribable. Mahoney gave me a hug. Then so did Sampson. Then even Peter Lindley did.
Agents Wardrip and Daya took over from there. They had the work lights turned way down, and they excused the military crew. Then they climbed into the hole to help bring Ethan and Zoe up themselves. A few minutes later, word came that the kids were ready to be brought out.
Zoe came first. It was a moment of true joy mixed with heartbreak to see the young girl, trembling all over and clinging to Wardrip as he carried her up the ladder.
Her clothes were just filthy rags, and her eyes were wide and glassy. But they weren’t vacant. She knew where she was.
They got Zoe onto a gurney and started oxygen and a saline drip right away. Then they covered her with a
