Chapter Twelve

At this point, the entire department was buzzing about the case. Everyone from the lab techs to the patrol officers, from the receptionists to the M.E. orderlies were talking about Ryan and his unbelievable devotion to finding this little girl he had only known for a day. Everyone knew about the car chase, the accident, his encounter with Flanner, and his blowup at Amber's mother. They were all in awe of him, skirting around him in the hallways, either because they didn't want to jinx him in his search or because they were afraid he'd bite them if they got too close.

Ryan stared at the computer screen in an empty lab room, not noticing the few people that hovered just outside the door, watching him. They were all so intrigued by him, enflamed by his tireless work ethic, drawing strength and drive from his.

Calleigh shouldered her way through the small crowd, looking bemusedly around at the awestruck faces of her colleagues. She walked into the room to put her hand on Ryan's shoulder.

"You have a fan club," she muttered wickedly.

Ryan spun around to look out the door behind him. The people standing there jumped and scurried off to return to their own tasks. Despite himself, Ryan smirked wryly.

"I'm sorry if I'm being a little intense…," he began.

She stopped him. "You don't have to explain yourself to me," she said gently. "I want to get Amber back, too. I didn't spend as much time with her as you and Natalia, but I understand where your fire comes from. She's the kind of kid that gets into your heart, no matter how hard you try to be guarded."

Ryan looked at her. She was gazing straight into his eyes, her green eyes alive with compassion. It was as if she was reading into the very depths of his soul.

"I know you, Ryan," she continued softly. "You keep people at a distance, never letting anyone in. You prefer to work alone, but something about her got to you. I'm going to do whatever it takes to help you get her back."

Ryan was speechless at her, his chest tight with emotion. He didn't know what to say to such deep understanding.

She smiled at him. "You're welcome," she said, interpreting his silent gratefulness. "So, have you figured out what Amber's message meant?"

Her question jolted him back to what he was doing. "As far as I can see, it can mean anything," he admitted. "There are cities called Beznik in Poland and Czech Republic."

"Maybe that's where they're taking her?" she guessed.

"There aren't any flights or ships to either country scheduled out of Florida today," he said. "I think they would want to get out of here as soon as possible. I think they're going to run for it today."

Calleigh instinctively looked at her watch. There wasn't much time left.

"Amber had to think this word was important," Ryan remarked. "She's a smart kid."

They both thought silently for a while.

"Tripp found the car outside a warehouse off of Flagler, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, a few miles east of where I lost them," Ryan said.

"East? That's a little weird…," she remarked quietly.

"How so?"

"Well, if I was trying to get as far away from the cops as possible, I would head west, inland," she explained. "It would be much easier to lose someone out there. Going east pins them up against the ocean."

They looked at each other suddenly, their minds clicking in unison.

"Unless they're heading for a boat," she finished, eyes shining.

"But there aren't any ships heading to Beznik today," Ryan pointed out.

Calleigh thought hard. "What if it's not the name of the destination? Maybe it's the…"

"Name of the boat?" they finished together.

Ryan hurriedly typed out a search word on the computer. "There's a shipping dock about five miles from where Tripp found the SUV. There's a number."

He whipped out his phone and dialed. As it rang, he looked at Calleigh. "How would Amber know the name of the boat?"

Calleigh shrugged. "They probably thought she was too scared or stupid to try getting a message to you. They probably talked about their whole plan right in front of her."

"Yes, hello?" Ryan said into the phone. "This is CSI Ryan Wolfe with Miami-Dade PD. I need some information regarding your schedule today. Is there a ship called the Beznik, B-E-Z-N-I-K, sailing out today?"

Ryan could hear the man on the other end rifling through some papers. "No," he said.

Ryan's heart sank.

"But there is a ship called the Yllia Besnik, B-E-S-N-I-K, supposed to leave at 5. She's a handysize freighter taking about a dozen containers out. That the one you mean?"

"What company is that ship with?" Ryan asked, his heart racing. Calleigh watched him, on edge. Ryan put the phone on speaker so she could hear too.

"It's an independent runner," the man answered. "Just one ship that takes any excess cargo for the bigger lines if they overstock. The guy who owns it comes through once in a while looking for work. He just got into Miami five days ago. He was supposed to be here for another week, but today he tells me he wants to push his departure to this evening."

"Do you know the captain's name?"

"Nah, he's some foreign fella. Funny accent, you know?" the man grunted. "We keep records of the ships, not so much the captains. They change too often."

Ryan looked at his watch and his heart nearly stopped: 4:43.

"Sir, listen to me very carefully," Ryan said, fighting to keep his voice calm. "We need you to stop that ship from leaving. We believe the captain is using it to smuggle kidnapped girls out of the country."

The man on the other end swore loudly. "I'll do what I can, but they're already preparing to shove off! You cops need to get out here now if you want to catch 'em!"

Ryan hung up the phone with a snap. He met Calleigh's eyes for one second, then dead-sprinted out of the room. Calleigh ran to catch up.

At the sight of Ryan hurtling down the hallway, everyone got out of the way quickly.

"Ryan!" Calleigh called.

He ignored her, ramming open the door to the stairwell. He leapt down them three at a time, nearly taking out multiple people in the process. Calleigh followed as fast as she could.

Ryan didn't stop running as he bolted through the station, making everyone stop and stare. He exploded out the front door into the torrential rain. His feet splashed across the concrete as he bolted toward a Hummer. Calleigh followed him outside, ignoring the rain.

She reached the Hummer as Ryan was turning the ignition and buckling his seatbelt. "You need to wait for backup!" she told him, yelling to make herself heard over the downpour.

"You heard him, Cal, that ship is leaving now," Ryan said, punching the car into reverse. "I need you to tell the rest of the team what's happening. Meet me at the dock as soon as you can!"

"What are you going to do by yourself?" she demanded.

"I don't know," he said as he pulled away from the curb and took off into the storm.

{•}

Ryan didn't even remember driving. His mind was closed to anything else other than getting to that ship before it left. He blasted onto the dock, aiming for the Yllia Besnik, which he could see resting in the last port down.

He stopped the Hummer at the beginning of the dock, drawing his gun as he leapt out. He didn't see anyone on the dock or on the ship. The dock was high off the water; he was eye level with the side railing of the ship. With a wave of fear he realized the ship was quickly pulling out of the harbor.

He had to do something. He didn't have time to wait for backup. In the instant that Ryan decided what to do, he knew he was nuts.

He decided he didn't care.

Taking a breath, Ryan began sprinting full out down the dock. The ship was nearing the end of it. He slipped a little on the wet wood beneath his feet, but he refused to fall. His feet pounded faster and faster as he picked up speed.

Then, with a flying leap, he launched himself off the dock toward the ship.

For one blinding moment, he knew he was falling into the water, this had been a stupid idea, but then his chest collided with the ship and his hands clutched the railing above his head.

His sore shoulder flared painfully, his hands creaking from the iron grip he had fastened onto the railing. Slowly, desperately, he hauled himself up, ignoring the horrible burn in his shoulders and abs, and flung himself over the side. He landed roughly on the deck, hidden behind a large, blue shipping container. He lay there for a moment, feeling the rain splash his face and hands.

Ryan started laughing like one crazed.

"Great idea, Wolfe," he muttered to himself dazedly. "Now what, dumbass?"