“Back up is on the way,” the deputy said as he joined Baxter.

“Look for fresh dirt,” Baxter said as he held up his fingers. “Someone has been digging.”

The two walked around the pond, searching for signs of freshly moved earth. Baxter froze as his flashlight glanced across a clump of dirt near the water’s edge. Was that it? Baxter sprinted for the shovel. He picked it up off the ground and ran back to where he had seen the clump of dirt. It looked as if Jenkins had tried to pack it down, but had done a poor job. He started to dig. The deputy searched the outside of the cabin and found another shovel.

The two immediately started digging, hitting something solid only minutes later. “Found something!” Baxter yelled. His once-neatly-pressed uniform was completely covered in dirt and drenched in sweat. They desperately continued digging, finally revealing a small wooden box. Once it was exposed enough, Baxter used the shovel as leverage to pry the box open. It had been nailed shut.

“Jesus Christ,” Baxter said as he pulled the wooden top off. There he saw a small girl, curled in the fetal position. Her mouth was gagged and her hands had been zip-tied together. She was pale and dirty, wearing only her underwear. The deputy stepped back in horror.

Baxter knelt down next to the little girl. It was horrific seeing the little girl like that. That sick son of a bitch, he thought. He reached down and touched her arm. It was cool and clammy. He moved up to her neck and started to check her pulse.

“This is sick,” the deputy said. “How could anyone do this? There’s no way she’s alive.”

Baxter ignored him. He moved his two fingers to the side of her neck. He felt nothing. Baxter closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly he felt what he thought to be a pulse. It was weak and thready, but he felt something. He swapped hands, thinking he was willing himself to believe she was still alive.

“She has a pulse!” Baxter screamed. “Help me get her out!”

Baxter picked up the small girl and pulled her to the side of the shallow grave. She had to get to a hospital soon. She was barely breathing, but she was alive.

“I’ll call it in!” the deputy said.

“She doesn’t have time!” Baxter said as he picked up the little girl and started running toward his cruiser. The girl couldn’t have weighed more than sixty pounds, but Baxter’s legs were burning as he tried to run, carrying her to his car. The deputy sprinted ahead, opening the back door of Baxter’s cruiser and getting in his own car to get out of the way. Baxter laid the small girl down on the back seat and covered her with a blanket. He got in his still running cruiser and floored it in reverse, kicking up rocks and gravel as he turned around.

As they reached the highway, the two police cars stormed down the empty road, both with lights and siren blaring. The town of Clayton was only a few miles down the road, but the little girl needed every second she could get. A lone car pulled over to the side of the road as the two cruisers rocketed by. Baxter radioed ahead to have the ER ready upon his arrival.