Early Saturday afternoon, June 7th, 2014
I checked out of Big Sandy and headed home. I had a lot to think about and four hours of driving ahead of me to do it.
Things had changed a lot since Billy Bob was running around on the land that now belonged to the Quinns. The dirt road he remembered was likely an access road back then that’s now either overgrown or a part of a State Route or county road.
There are a few creek runs in the Buffalo Fork area but most of those are pretty small creeks these days. They tend to dry up in the heat of summer. On the other hand, if Ryan McClarnan was keeping his still site close to the vault or the growing operations, then some of the runs might have enough of a flow to be his fresh water supply from springtime when the trees started to leaf to hide his still operations into July when they started to dry up. You can’t make moonshine without fresh water. You can’t grow marijuana without water for that matter either.
As I drove, I continued to think about the area. I remembered that the little clearing where I’d seen the beehives was east of the area where Jones dropped McClarnan off and maybe a mile north of Boggs Creek. Boggs was a decently flowing creek most of the year that ran through Quinn land and into Coon Ridge, the northernmost area of the Blue Rock State Forest.
The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that everything McClarnan was involved in had to be in the Coon Ridge area. The moonshine coming from his still had to be transported from somewhere. Westcrest Road was close enough to the hive site and to the creek that if a still was in the area, Ryan and crew weren’t hauling product far through the forest to a drop off point or a waiting vehicle. The only question was, what could Dallas Granger have seen from his vantage points going out to service the wells?
I called Shane Harding. He told me that McClarnan hadn’t appeared at the peddlers market and I told what I’d learned from Billy Bob. We concluded together that we’d have to gather all of the available intel and the Special Response Team and send them into the Coon Ridge area on Monday to root him out.
It was mid-afternoon by the time I drove back into Morelville. It was so nice out, I decided I’d see if Dana wanted to go for a drive up to Dillon Lake or over to Senecaville Lake. We could get some dinner and maybe stay somewhere to make an evening of it. Neither of us had to be anywhere else until Monday.
I parked my duty SUV beside her car. We’d have to take it on our drive if she wanted to go. My new truck was parked at the station where I’d left it Friday evening since I’d planned to take my official vehicle down to Big Sandy and back.
I let myself into the house through the side door like I always do. Inside, it was quiet. Kris was apparently still gone. I called out, “Dana?” but there was no response. I walked to the sliding door and looked out on the deck. She wasn’t out there. Maybe she’s in the bathroom...
I went into the den. The bed was unmade but Dana wasn’t in it and the bathroom was empty; the door standing open. A sense of foreboding hit me hard when I realized that her crutches were leaning within arm’s reach of the shower stall. Her car was here and her crutches were here but she wasn’t.
My cops’ intuition was telling me something was very wrong while my brain was trying to tell me that everything was probably fine. Nausea welled up from my stomach as I tried to call her cell phone. There was no response. I called it again. This time, someone took the call but said nothing. My fear bubbled over. Another attempt to call her phone rolled right to her voicemail. Whoever had half answered her cell before had turned it off so that it couldn’t be tracked.
I didn’t need to track it. I knew who had Dana and why. I just needed to get there before it was too late.
###
It had taken nearly three hours to get to the station, contact and assemble the SRT team and brief them, arrange ground support from my own patrol units and to arrange air and ground support from BCI. I prayed during all of that time that Dana was still alive and unharmed.
Shane had come in too. He wasn’t part of the SRT but he would ride with me and we’d go in behind them once they rooted out McClarnan’s hiding place. When I called him, I told him what my real relationship to Dana was. He’d come in for moral support. He was the only one on the force besides Holly that knew the whole story.
It was nearly 6:00 PM by the time everyone rolled toward Blue Rock. We had a few hours of daylight left.
BCI investigators hit the home of Levi Jones straight away while SRT and another team of BCI agents took up positions around Coon Ridge and prepared to stage a sweeping ground search. No one was at home at the Jones residence. All indications were that he’d been there but left in haste because he’d left his truck there, the house wide open and drugs and drug paraphernalia everywhere but he was nowhere to be found. I suspected he’d eventually turn up wherever we found McClarnan.
They have to know that this isn’t going to end well for them...I just hope it doesn’t end badly for Dana...
The SRT and BCI investigators on the ground were working toward the center of the target area at Coon Ridge from all directions. Those going overland from the open land on the Quinn side first took the time to evacuate both Quinn families. After they’d got wind of the warning from Ethan Funk that McClarnan had eyes along the wood line, they didn’t want to take a chance on anyone from either family getting hurt.
The Quinn side team had air support to watch for wood line snipers. My gut told me McClarnan didn’t have any men out there willing to pull a trigger for him against another human aside from maybe Levi Jones. His dealers weren’t separatists like him or even gang bangers like in the bigger cities. They were guys looking to make a buck or two to buy beer and chew and maybe to put a few dollars in the collection plate on Sunday. They’d kill for meat or to protect their families but not because someone told them to just to protect himself.
Shane and I were sitting in my county SUV in a staging area off of Coon Ridge Road. The teams were methodically working through the area looking for any outcropping that could contain the mostly concealed mouth of the cave. Finding that would be far easier than finding the entrance to the vault where the men were probably holed up with Dana. Since that was under the original cabin before Billy Bob burned it down, it would be flat to the ground and very easy to conceal.
In theory it would be easier. Reality is that a huge team has been out here for 30 minutes and no one has reported back to the mission commanders from SRT and BCI about finding a thing yet...
I looked at Shane. He was listening to ever blip of the radios the two commanders had. He felt my eyes on him and he turned to look at me.
“Where’s your head at right now Sheriff?”
“Shane, what if I’m completely wrong about the area? What if this vault is miles from here?”
“It’s not. It’s here because this is the only area that makes logical sense. Keep your head up. They’re going to find it.”
“What if they find it too late?”
The SRT commander’s radio crackled to life. “Tracker found a still chief.”
The team chief responded, “Comb the area.”
“Roger, out.”
My eyes grew wide, “They found his still!”
“See! Keep the faith. These guys are good. You picked a couple of the SRT folks yourself over the past year. You know what they can do.”
“Tracker’s getting a gold medal if he sniffs out the cave or vault.”
Seth “Tracker” Hanes was one of my deputies. My predecessor, Sheriff Carter, had actually convinced him to join the SRT team. He’d honed his skills hunting over a lifetime and he was more talented than most bloodhounds although a pair of those and a drug sniffing dog were also in the mix tonight.
We waited several more minutes in silence, just listening, but no more reports were immediately forthcoming.
“Let’s say they find the mouth of the cave Shane; then what? They could be walking into an ambush. This is a no win situation.”
Shane just shook his head. He probably didn’t know what to say to me. I sank into despair. I didn’t want to lose Dana and I didn’t want to lose any of the men out there either.
The minutes stretched into an hour without us hearing anything else at all. The sun was starting to sink below the horizon. In another hour, we’d be faced with total darkness and a much more dangerous situation for the search teams.
I stepped out of the vehicle to stretch. While I walked a little to work the kinks out I caught site of two men hightailing it up the road together with a bloodhound. They were from the BCI team. Both team chiefs stepped out to greet them.
One man started talking, “Red tracked the scent of Levi Jones to a dead stop. He was alerting on the spot, so I pulled him out. We think we’ve got the entry to the vault.”
“Can you get in?” I asked.
“No Sheriff. It’s too risky. We’re not sure how close to the entry they are. If they’re close they’ve heard Red and they’ll be waiting for us. Maybe knowing we’re up there though will flush them the other way and out of the cave.”
I bristled, “They haven’t found the cave entrance yet.” I eyeballed the two men.
“They will. Either way they try to come out, we’ll nail them Sheriff.”
The men loaded the dog into his kennel, checked their equipment and then went back the way they came.
About 20 minutes passed after the two BCI men left to go back to their colleagues at the vault entrance before a voice broke the silence over the radio. “We’ve got the cave mouth chief.”
“Oh my God!” I was shaking.
The voice over the radio gave the coordinates.
The two commanders mounted up in their shared vehicle. We followed behind them. We’d all get as close as we could by four wheel drive truck and then walk the rest of the way in.
We were stopped a few minutes later by a team member who stepped from out of denser woods to greet us. He said we’d have to go about 600 yards on foot.
We walked single file, several yards apart for the next 15 minutes. We were picking our way through the dense forest slowly and as quietly as possible. Shane and I both carried rifles but we would not be the ones to breech the entrance and try to take the tunnel and vault. We were carrying for our own protection and to lay down fire for the team if needed.
I was next to the last with Shane behind me. Everyone in front of me stopped so I did too. Slowly we crept forward again and were directed left and right and cautioned to keep low and be quiet. A low rock outcropping was in front of us After several long minutes that seemed like an eternity, SRT and BCI team members approached the entrance and went through. One after another, six men went into the mouth of the cave until only the two commanders and the two of us remained.
The SRT chief moved forward to the cave. He flattened himself against one side of the entrance and keyed his mike once, briefly. A low answering tone came back. He nodded to the rest of us to follow and he went in. The BCI chief went next and I followed him.
We entered in total darkness but there was light coming from somewhere up ahead of us. After a couple of minutes of creeping through the dark the air changed and became warmer. We rounded a slight bend and came into the light.
I was standing in the entrance to the largest grow room I had ever seen. Trays of plants stretched more than a football field away. Everything was irrigated and lighted for year round growing. What the hell is powering all of this?
An SRT team member was taking photos to document what we were seeing. We were urged on by another man toward a narrow opening at the other end of the room. The original tunnel must have been widened out to form the grow room. The opening we were headed toward I assumed must be what must have remained of the tunnel that lead toward the vault.
Four men were massed to go forward. The guy taking photographs and a guard would stay back. The first four men would enter the vault and subdue the occupants. The remaining four of us would enter behind them. If McClarnan and whoever was in there with him were flushed out, the men overhead would pick them up. I crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.
Things went from just slightly more than calm and ultra-silent with the toss of a disorienting flash-bang. The four men rushed forward, guns out front and barking orders.
Shane put one hand on my shoulder. I took a deep breath and blew it out. There was a lot of shouting and noise coming from ahead of us. It was confusing and concerning and waiting was killing me.
The SRT commander was shouting into his radio. The response back advised him to advance with caution.
We moved forward again through a framed out doorway, a small hallway and another framed door that actually had an open steel fire door that had been breached to swing open into a cavern room of about 20x20. Sitting on the floor in the middle of the room with their hands on their heads were a very drunk Levi Jones and Ryan McClarnan. Two of the four entry team members held their guns on them.
I couldn’t see Dana. I looked about the large room frantically. It was a well-lighted drug production lab with portable battery powered lights and oil lamps. I marveled at what it must have taken the men to haul fuel down here constantly for the lamps and to power the generators that were probably somewhere keeping the lights on in the grow room but my first priority was still Dana.
I stepped forward and got in front of McClarnan. “Where is she?”
He laughed.
“I said, where is she?” I was yelling and he was still laughing.
“How does it feel Sheriff to have something taken away that you love?” McClarnan cackled loudly. “I may be going to jail but you and your girlfriend are going to hell!” She’s on her way and you won’t get out of here alive.”
I looked around. The team, other than myself and the two guards, were searching the room. I turned to Jones. “Is she alive? Tell me where she is!”
Jones, in his drunkenness was more loose than belligerent. “Don’t worry, she’s had some good shit man. She isn’t feeling any pain anymore.” He wavered and toppled over.
The BCI team chief said, “We’ll find her Sheriff. She can’t be far.” He radioed for the remaining bloodhound to be brought in. SRT cuffed the two men and removed them. McClarnan screamed about his rights the entire way out of the vault.
I didn’t know whether to go back out myself or stay inside. Something just told me Dana was inside this dug out monstrosity.
A hatch opened overhead. A BCI team member climbed down through what must have been the original vault entry from the cabin. He was soon followed by another and then a third. The room began to feel suffocating. I was in distress and I had to leave.
I went into the hallway and back out into the grow room. The bloodhound handler had arrived and released his dog from the other end of the room. He started sniffing rapidly in my direction but then he diverted right and ran up a different aisle. His handler followed carrying one of Dana’s shirts. I stood and watched the dog and prayed.
The hound went to the end of the row and then over one further. It rounded the end and alerted on what my mother would call a gardener’s box. The handler and I both converged on it quickly. It was locked with an ancient padlock. The handler began to bash it with the heel of his boot but it wouldn’t give.
Why is it locked? I ran quickly back into the vault and looked for something to break the lock with. There was nothing. I went back out, ejected the magazine out of my rifle and used the butt to hammer away at the lock. Adrenaline coursed through me. The lock finally cracked and I ripped it away. I was too afraid to lift the lid. The BCI agent did it for me.
Dana, broken and bruised, lay in the box. I collapsed to my knees. “Dana! Dana, talk to me! Dana!”
“I’ve got a pulse but it’s pretty weak. Sheriff, we have to get her out of here.” It was the BCI agent talking, drawing me out of my shock. We both called out for help and when it came, we lifted Dana free of what was meant to be her tomb.