Byrd and Littlepage arrived at the Golden Corral a little early. Since they hadn't eaten yet, they decided to enjoy a couple of steaks and watch as the local Geocachers arrived for the Meat and Greet. Before dishing up they asked the hostess whether she was expecting the group.

"You're a little early," she said.

"Yep, traffic was a little better than we expected," Byrd explained.

"Well, we usually put the Geocachers in that area over there," She motioned to the far corner.

"We'll just sit over here then and wait till a few people arrive. We're new."

The hostess shrugged and said, "That'll be fine."

The steaks weren't bad for the money. By the time they had finished desert they spotted their first Geocacher. He was carrying his tray in one hand and a GPS in the other. There was a backpack slung over one shoulder. He set his tray, pack and GPS down in the middle of the area the hostess had pointed to and headed for the buffet.

As he was getting his food, several other people arrived, including a couple of families with small children. There were handshakes and hugs. The scene repeated as others arrived. After there were about twenty people seated in the area, the detectives approached.

"Is this the Geocaching group?" Littlepage asked.

"Yes it is," one man said as he rose from his seat and extended his hand, "I'm StressMaster".

Byrd shook his hand and began, "I'm Det..."

Littlepage interrupted him, "This is Luke Duke and I'm JaxPosse."

"Hey, I've seen a couple of your logs. Great to meet you. I'm about to go get a steak."

The man walked off toward the buffet. The detectives introduced themselves to several other people and finally sat down across from StressMaster's place. A woman on their right introduced herself as "Sillyhead".

"We were hoping to meet a Geocacher named Serial Finder," Byrd told her.

"He usually comes to events, but I haven't seen him," she said. She turned and shouted to several people behind her, "Hey, anyone heard from Serial Finder?"

"He posted he was coming a few weeks ago, but he never dropped his coins," someone answered.

Sillyhead explained, "If he didn’t drop his coins, that probably means he couldn’t come. He always brings his coins."

Just then StressMaster returned. "Who's that?" he asked.

"Serial Finder. These guys were wondering if he's coming." Sillyhead explained.

"He was out caching with JoeMerchant today."

"Have you talked to him?" Littlepage probed.

"No, I haven't talked to him, but let me try to call him," StressMaster said as he pulled out a cell phone and punched up a number. "Nothing. It goes right to his voicemail. His phone must be off."

Byrd continued, "But he was out with JoeMerchant?"

"Yes," he explained, "I was caching up in Nassau County today and saw their names in a couple of logs. They had just done them today."

"Which ones?"

"A Couple were micros I think. The one I know for sure was 'Alien Listening Post'. I tried to snag a Federation coin, but they beat me to it."

"What time was that?"

"Who are you guys?" StressMaster asked.

"We're Detectives with the Jacksonville Sheriff’s Office. I'm Detective Byrd and this is Deputy Littlepage."

"Oh..." he paused, "Is this about that girl? I thought that name sounded familiar."

"We want to speak with Mark Quaintence. That's Serial Finder isn't it?"

"I think that's his name. I usually just call him Serial Finder."

"So where is JoeMerchant?"

"Like I said, they did 'Alien Listening Post' this afternoon. I was there about three or four o’clock I think. They didn't log their time. I think only Serial Finder logged it because Joe had already found it."

"Where is it?"

"It's up in that Nassau WMA."

As Byrd interviewed the Geocacher, Littlepage had pulled out a PDA and was working on it. "I think I got it," he said. He held the device out to StressMaster and asked, "Is this the one?"

"That's it."

Maddy opened her eyes and found herself in a dimly lit room. She was lying on a wooden table. Her neck was sore from the lack of even a pillow and her head was aching as if from a hangover. She let her eyes adjust to the lighting and began looking around from her position on the table. Where was she? With a little effort she remembered encountering the man at the truck stop. She had gotten into his car and there was a struggle, but she couldn't remember how it had turned out. Looking again at her surroundings and feeling a cut on her face, she could only assume it had not gone well.

Siting up, she swung her legs over the edge of the table and hopped down to the floor. The concrete was cold and she realized she was in stocking feet. The room itself was about ten feet by ten feet. As her eyes adjusted, she was able to see that the walls were bare except for a couple shelves in one corner. Below the shelves was a toilet. That might come in handy, she thought. The light came from a small low watt bulb hanging by a wire from the ceiling.

She looked down at the table she had been lying on. It was constructed of two-by-fours and stood a little above waste high. More of a work bench. Perhaps an examination table? It was difficult to make out the surface in the dim light but it appeared to be painted with enamel. Red enamel. She felt around the edges of the table and found something hanging from the side. It felt leathery and was bolted to the edge of the tabletop. Maddy felt a chill when it she realized what it was. It was a strap. There were four of them. Two at the corners of one end and two in the middle on each side. Right where her hands and feet would be. They were straps to secure someone to the bench. She fought back the visions that brought to mind. There was enough for her to worry about right now without thinking of new things.

Her immediate concern had to do with that toilet. She stepped over to it and jiggled the handle. Nothing. She squinted downward and saw that the bowl was dry. It wouldn't be much use that way. There must be a water source. She felt around the back of the tank and the bowl and could not find a water line connected anywhere. While she was on her knees, she looked over the bowl, across the small room, and saw a bucket hanging in the opposite corner.

Maddy walked over to it and found that it was hanging on some type of spout. The spout was attached to a pipe. She felt around the pipe and realized that it was an old-fashioned hand pump. Her neighbors had one in their back yard when she was a child. Her experience in playing with that one might come in handy. She positioned the bucket correctly and began to pump. After four or five strokes water began to trickle into the bucket. A few more strokes and the trickle became a flow. When the bucket was nearly full she stopped pumping and lifted the bucket off the spout.

The bucket was heavy but she only had to carry it about ten feet. Setting it on the floor, she lifted the cover off the toilet tank. Then she lifted the bucket and poured the water it contained into the tank. After repeating the process once more, the tank was full. Yet another bucket filled the bowl. The fixture was now ready for its intended purpose.

Joe and Mark stood staring at the open grave. "Is that what I think it is?" Joe said.

"A grave?" Replied

"That's what it looks like to me."

"It's for her," Mark said.

"Who?"

"The girl at the truck stop. The one that's missing."

"You think so? If she's not here yet," Joe surmised, "that could mean she's still alive."

"Who knows. In any case, we better get the heck out of here or it could end up being for us."

"You're right. Let's go."

"I think it's time to call the cops."

"Absolutely. We just need to get to a spot where we have some cell reception."

The men made there way back to the logs over the creek and crossed to the other side. They followed the general direction they had come and soon the strange compound was in sight. They emerged from the woods at the very back of the fence so they had to walk around the perimeter. As they went around the corner of the fence they heard a totally unexpected sound -- the whoosh of a flushing toilet.