Read Online The Shack by William P. Young - Free Book Online Page B

He extended every kindness and courtesy he could to his new friends, especially Mack.
    Now came the hardest part, waiting. Mack felt like he was moving in slow motion inside the eye of a hurricane of activity happening all around him. Reports filtered in from everywhere. Even Emil was busy networking with the people and professionals he knew.
    The FBI entourage arrived mid-afternoon from field offices in three cities. It was clear from the start that the person in charge was Special Agent Wikowsky, a small slim woman who was all fire and motion, and to whom Mack took an instant liking. She publicly returned the favor, and from that moment on no one questioned his presence at even the most intimate of conversations or debriefings.
    After setting up their command center at the hotel, the FBI asked Mack to come in for a formal interview, something they insisted was routine in these kinds of circumstances. Agent Wikowsky rose from behind the desk she was working at and held out her hand. As he reached for the handshake, she clasped both her hands around his and smiled grimly.
    “Mr. Phillips, I apologize that I haven’t been able to spend much time with you so far. We’ve been frantically busy setting up communications with all the law enforcement and other agencies involved in trying to get Missy back safely. I’m so sorry that we have to meet under such conditions.”
    Mack believed her. “Mack,” he said.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Mack. Please, call me Mack.”
    “Well, Mack, then please call me Sam. Short for Samantha, but I grew up kind of a tomboy and beat up the kids who would dare call me Samantha to my face.”
    Mack couldn’t help but smile, relaxing a little into the chair as he watched her quickly sort through a couple of folders full of papers. “Mack, are you up for a few questions?” she asked without looking up.
    “I’ll do my best,” he answered, grateful for the opportunity to do anything.
    “Good! I won’t make you walk through all the details again. I have the reports on everything that you told the others, but I have a couple of important things to go over with you.” She looked up, making eye contact.
    “Anything I can do to help,” confessed Mack. “I’m feeling very useless at the moment.”
    “Mack, I understand how you feel, but your presence here is important. And believe me, there is not a person here who doesn’t care about your Missy. We will do everything in our power to get her back safely.”
    “Thank you,” was all Mack could say, and he looked down at the floor. Emotions seemed so near the surface, and even the least bit of kindness seemed to poke holes in his reserve.
    “Okay, now . . . I’ve had a good off-the-record talk with your friend Officer Tommy, and he filled me in on everything that you and he have talked about, so don’t feel like you have to protect his butt. He’s all right in my book.”
    Mack looked up and nodded, and smiled again at her.
    “So,” she continued, “have you noticed anyone strange around your family these past few days?”
    Mack was surprised and sat back in his chair. “You mean he’s been stalking us?”
    “No, he seems to choose his victims at random, though they were all about the age of your daughter with similar hair color. We think he spots them a day or two before and waits and watches from nearby for an opportune moment. Have you seen anyone unusual or out of place near the lake? Perhaps near the bathrooms?” Mack recoiled at the thought of his children being watched; being targets. He tried to think past his own imagination, but came up blank. “I’m sorry, not that I can remember . . .”
    “Did you stop anywhere on your way to the campgrounds, or notice anyone strange when you were hiking or sightseeing in the area?”
    “We stopped at Multnomah Falls on the way here, and we’ve been all over the area the past three days, but I don’t recall seeing anyone who looked out of the ordinary. Who would have thought