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The local police suggested that any investigation beyond the most basic data gathering could not begin until Holly had been missing for twenty four hours. Without saying as much, they also delayed any efforts to find her because of their involvement with the escape of the five convicts. Anyone listening to any of the law enforcement channels on the radio would hear a steady stream of conversation between Federal Marshals, County Sheriff's Deputies and local law enforcement officers. Within hours of the escape an enormous team of individuals from all over the region had been pulled together to find the five men. One of the prisoners, one of the three in orange jump suit, was captured as he tried to hitch a ride less than a mile from the crash scene. His location was reported by a motorist concerned that a man in a prison jump suit was hitchhiking. The caller had only provided that information in his initial call to the communication center, but then, as he traveled further down the highway and discovered the wrecked transport vehicle, the citizen became far more animated during his second call to report the wreck. Once a second deputy was dispatched to the wreck scene and the body of the original deputy discovered in the trees, the alarm was raised and the early wheels of justice began to turn.
Within an hour, all primary roads leading from the scene were blocked by responding official vehicles and officers. Nearly one hundred investigators, mostly dispatched by the Federal Marshalls, were pouring over the location, taking prints of the vehicle, and looking for any signs or tracks of the escapees.
The heavy snow that was falling completely obliterated all footprints leaving the scene, the only partials still visible were a few trampled imprints going from the vehicle to the road and returning, several times. Eventually, the local sheriff called in two tracking dogs from another county. Both dogs hit upon the scent of two men immediately, two men travelling away from the scene, for fifteen feet until a set of water filled ruts crossed their path. The dogs' handler informed the sheriff that the escapees were apparently smart enough to remain in the water for a sufficient length of time to eliminate most of their individual scents while allowing the mud in the ruts to coat the bottom of their boots, thus masking their scent completely. Once the scent was diluted by muddy water, he told them, and their shoes covered with the mud of that field, finding them through scent tracking became impossible. The Marshalls considered calling in a helicopter equipped with a heat sensor but the continuing snowstorm reduced visibility to less than the minimum allowed for air safety.
Frustrated by the lack of activity in the search for his daughter, Holly's father began on his own. He soon learned that Holly had shopped at the convenience story earlier in the afternoon and then returned to purchase dog food for Mrs. Potter's dog. After repeated calls to the convenience store, he was finally able to contact the clerk that had been working at the time of her last purchase. That clerk then confirmed that Holly had offered two men a ride on their way to Buffalo. Panicked that she had been kidnapped, her father called the police again, only to be told that all available resources were being expended on the search for the four remaining escaped convicts. His mind a blur with worry, Mr. McAdams collapsed onto a chair in his living room, muttered something incoherently to himself and then absentmindedly pushed the "O" on his phone. When the Operator answered, he asked to be connected to the F.B.I.
Barely able to speak clearly enough to be understood, Harold McAdams, after three tries, managed to communicate his story to the call center agent that night. "My daughter has been kidnapped by the escaped convicts," he told the agent. "She gave them a ride from a convenience store and now she has disappeared." Thirty minutes later, an agent arrived at the McAdams home to get more details. After confirming the most basic information, he asked Mr. McAdams to accompany him to the convenience store where they reviewed the stores security video tape from earlier that day.
"Yes, that's my daughter Holly, but I have no idea who those two men are that she is with."
"Unfortunately, those are two of the escapees." Minutes before, the agent had been notified that the other two remaining escapees, the two still dressed in orange jumpsuits, had been discovered hiding in a woodshed on a farm about a mile from the original crash site. Immediately, the emphasis of the officers involved switched to Felix, Carlos and, belatedly but necessarily, to Holly as well. Shortly after dawn, an Amber Alert was issued for Holly, an all-points bulletin for Carlos and Felix, and press releases to all local radio and television stations asking for help. There was nothing for Harold McAdams to do but return to his home and wait for developments in the case.
When the snow finally ended, more than ten inches had fallen. Drifts from the wind created snow piles more than twice that high and any tracks or scents that may have existed were totally obliterated. The police organizations put the search emphasis on finding Holly's car, and given its age, its uniqueness would make it that much easier to spot. Or so they thought!
Holly's car, roof smashed nearly to the top of the dash, was nestled half way under the old iron bridge, its doors either blocked from opening by the bridge foundation or smashed and jammed from the collision with the wall and resulting slide down the hill. Holly might have been able to see out the rear window of the car, except that it was covered completely with ten inches of snow. She was, she realized, trapped in a cage, under a bridge on a seldom traveled road. She had no heat, no extra clothes, nothing to eat or drink, and absolutely no idea to where her cell phone had disappeared. She was cold, hungry, and very much alone. Holly tried to open the right side door, but it was jammed tight and it hurt her shoulder to push hard against it. The left side was hopeless, she knew, blocked by this cement bridge foundation thing that looked to her more like a concrete wall than anything else. The one thought running through Holly's mind repeatedly was how lucky she was that her car had not plunged into the river. She knew from years of summertime swimming that right at this bridge, the water was plenty deep enough to swallow her car whole. Just the thought of that made her shiver again. Sometime around mid-day (without a watch she didn't know for certain) Holly began to feel the pangs of her hunger. She had already made the choice to grab a handful of snow when she could reach it, when she could endure the pain of stretching herself that far, but there was no food to reach for.
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