With a scent to track, the Labrador darted forward eagerly, pulling so hard that its handler lost grip of the leash. The dog bolted in a single direction, tail wagging with fervor.
"Sorry about that, Jack gets overly excited sometimes, but he's an amazing partner," the dog's handler, a young and soft-spoken white female officer, said with an apologetic smile. Her demeanor shifted slightly as she glanced at the tall, sharp-looking FBI agent before her, clearly feeling a bit flustered.
"Let me guess—your partner's name is also Jack?" Jack asked, his expression amused at the coincidence.
Before she could respond, the canine Jack stopped by a small creek and began barking furiously. Of course, all Jacks are awesome.
"We've got a body!" shouted Sheriff Shawn, who had gone ahead. His voice carried over the rustling leaves. "Oh, God, it's Mike McCabe, the school bus driver!"
The creek was shallow, barely half a meter deep, and nearly dry due to the approaching winter. Only a thin trickle of water remained, winding through the bed. A man's body lay face-up in the water—a white male, approximately in his 40s, slightly balding. A gunshot wound to the temple was visible, with blood seeping out from the exit wound on the other side, staining the remaining water pink.
"Get more people here, Sheriff. Call in everyone—militias, community patrols, anyone who can help," Jack said grimly as he stared at the lifeless body.
"We need to organize a grid search to look for more evidence or additional victims."
Jack quickly dialed his phone. First, he called Jubal back at the operations center, requesting the deployment of an FBI Evidence Response Team (ERT). Then, he reached out to Mac Taylor at the CSI lab, asking him to dispatch forensic specialists to the scene as soon as possible.
The area to be searched was massive, and the FBI's ERT didn't have enough manpower to cover it all. Fortunately, the FBI and CSI lab teams had worked together many times before and had established a seamless workflow.
After nearly two hours of grid searching, the results were thankfully sparse—no additional bodies or suspicious items were found. For now, that counted as good news.
After handing off the scene to the forensic teams, Jack checked in with an ERT supervisor. The smashed phones and tablets found earlier had been processed and sent to the lab. Their data was critical and needed to be extracted and sent to the operations center as soon as possible.
Child abduction cases are far more delicate than those involving adults. Children are highly emotional and unpredictable, which can cause kidnappers to panic and lead to catastrophic outcomes.
And this wasn't just one child—this was 26. Any one of them could cry uncontrollably due to hunger, cold, fear, or even basic biological needs, potentially destabilizing an already precarious situation.
This was no longer a question of a golden "X" number of hours. Jack's mind raced as he considered every possibility. Were the kidnappers after ransom money? Was this politically motivated?
The worst possibility chilled him to his core: a ritualistic act by some cult. That would be a nightmare scenario, one he could barely stomach imagining.
Jack arrived at Taft Elementary School in a Westchester County Sheriff's vehicle. Inside the school gymnasium—converted into a temporary hub for the affected families—he found Dana Moreau and Hannah wrapping up their conversations with distraught parents.
The gym was the largest indoor space available, capable of holding a large crowd. Makeshift desks and chairs had been set up in rows on the wooden court. Two FBI agents worked in pairs, taking statements from the parents of the kidnapped children.
As Sheriff Shawn had mentioned earlier, this was a small community, where word spread quickly. Just as Jack entered the gym, a parent holding a phone yelled out in panic:
"The Sheriff's Department said they found a body! It's the bus driver! Oh my God, my child!"
The gym erupted into chaos as parents swarmed the FBI agents, including Dana and Hannah, demanding answers. As tensions boiled over, Jack spotted a copper gong hanging from the gymnasium's wall. He grabbed the mallet nearby and struck it with all his strength.
CLANG!
The deafening sound immediately commanded everyone's attention. Jack seized the moment, climbing onto a desk to address the room.
"Hey, listen to me! I just came from the scene. Yes, we did find a body, and yes, it belongs to an adult male," Jack said, stressing the word "adult" for emphasis. Even so, murmurs of concern rippled through the crowd.
Seeing the unrest reignite, Jack raised his voice even further.
"Please, listen! This is important. After an extensive search, we found no evidence of additional homicides. Therefore, the authorities are treating this as a kidnapping case for now."
A male parent called out anxiously, "What are you going to do to find our kids?"
Jack responded immediately, "We're doing everything possible. Hundreds of officers are combing through the area right now, searching for any clues. But what you need to do is go home."
"Go home? What are you talking about? How can we leave now?" another parent retorted angrily.
"Listen to me!" Jack raised his hands, urging calm. "Gathering here isn't helping. Make sure you've left your phone number and email address with the authorities so we can contact you immediately if we have news.
But think about it: the kidnappers—or your children—might try to call home. Someone needs to be there to answer the phone, check emails, and look for any other signs. Do you understand?"
The parents paused, their initial panic giving way to understanding. The sheriff had been right: this community's education level was high enough that the people could grasp the logic of Jack's argument. Their anxiety began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of purpose.
One by one, parents approached the nearest FBI agent to finalize their statements and provide their contact information. Couples with both parents present quickly decided who would stay and who would rush home to wait by the phone.
"Nicely done," Dana said, her worry evident but tempered with a faint smile.
Jack didn't waste time basking in the compliment. As he followed Dana and Hannah toward their Suburban, he asked eagerly, "Any new leads from the parents?"
Hannah held up her notepad. "We've got something. One of the mothers I spoke with mentioned noticing a green panel van following the school bus two days in a row. She wasn't entirely sure, but when I asked other parents, a few confirmed seeing the same vehicle."
Jack's spirits lifted. If the van had been tailing the bus along a fixed route, then it would likely have been captured on surveillance footage near residential areas or intersections. Reviewing those tapes wouldn't take long.
On the drive back, Jack floored the accelerator, sirens wailing as the Suburban raced through traffic. By the time they returned to the FBI's New York field office, Jubal had news waiting for them.
Displayed on the operations center's large screen was a video clip recovered from the smashed phones and tablets at the scene. Multiple children had filmed the incident, but this was the clearest footage yet.
The video, shot from the back of the bus, showed the moment it was stopped. Two men, wearing black ski masks and wielding AR-15 rifles, stood outside the bus, aiming their weapons at the driver and ordering him to open the door.
As the children screamed in terror, the gunmen boarded the bus. One forced the driver into submission while the other went aisle by aisle, collecting the children's phones. The video froze on the frame where the armed man reached out toward the child recording the scene.
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