Chapter 4 - THE EMPTY CONTAINER
The rescue team reached the ravine with ropes, medical equipment, and a portable lifting bag. Two firefighters descended while another secured the line above.
I told them about the snakes.
They immediately stopped.
“Are you certain?” one firefighter asked.
“I saw one. The child says there were more.”
The firefighter signaled to the team above. “Animal control and wildlife response needed. Keep civilians back.”
The crowd on the bridge began moving away, but the park had already become chaotic. Parents grabbed their children. Phones were raised. People shouted questions.
A woman screamed that the entire park was dangerous.
Another accused me of bringing a vicious dog near children.
I ignored them.
Mason’s rescue came first.
The firefighters placed a protective barrier between the boy and the leaves. One used a long pole to move the snake away from the tree. Another slid a board beneath Mason’s shoulders.
“On my count,” the team leader said. “One, two, three.”
The trunk lifted just enough for them to pull Mason free.
He cried out, but his leg came loose.
The medic checked his pulse, pupils, and ankle. There was swelling, but no sign of a bite.
“Possible fracture,” she said. “We’re taking him in.”
Mason reached for me.
“Officer Brooks, the box…”
“I know,” I said. “We’ll find it.”
His sister Lily was brought down from the ridge once the area was cleared. She ran to him and hugged him tightly.
“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I should have listened.”
Mason held her with one arm.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Titan watched from above, his body still tense.
The moment the children were carried away, I climbed toward the black container. Wildlife officers had arrived and were preparing to search the ravine.
The container was old, scratched, and marked with faded white letters.
NORTHWEST RESEARCH SUPPLY.
Inside, there were fragments of straw, a torn cloth, and a small paper label.
I lifted the label with tweezers.
It read:
“Property of Rainier Biological Institute.”
That name meant something to me.
Three years earlier, a researcher from Rainier Biological Institute had died in what investigators called an accidental laboratory exposure. The case had received very little public attention because the facility had settled with the family and shut down its reptile division.
The lead wildlife officer examined the container.
“This isn’t a normal transport box,” he said. “It’s designed for venomous species.”
“Could the snakes have escaped from the institute?”
“The facility closed two years ago.”
“Then why is their equipment here?”
He looked at me.
“That’s what we need to find out.”
Titan suddenly pulled against his leash.
His focus was no longer on the ravine.
He was staring at a narrow trail that led through the trees toward the old maintenance road.
I followed his line of sight.
A person stood between the branches.
Tall. Wearing a dark hooded jacket.
The figure watched us for one silent second.
Then turned and ran.
“Police!” I shouted. “Stop!”
The figure disappeared into the trees.
I released Titan from the tree.
“Track.”
Titan launched forward.
We raced through the wet leaves, weaving between trunks. The figure moved quickly but not like an experienced runner. They stumbled once, caught themselves, and continued toward the maintenance road.
Titan gained ground.
I heard branches breaking ahead.
Then a vehicle engine started.
“Stop!” I yelled.
A dark green van burst through the trees and accelerated down the gravel road.
Titan reached the edge of the road and barked furiously.
I stopped beside him.
The van’s rear doors were covered in mud. Its license plate was hidden beneath a layer of dirt, but I caught the last two numbers before it vanished around the bend.
Seven. Four.
Titan lowered his nose to the ground.
Something lay in the leaves.
A child’s red scarf.
But Lily had been wearing a purple jacket.
Mason had been wearing yellow.
The scarf smelled faintly of chemicals.
May you like
And stitched into one corner were the initials:
A.W.
