by Paul Stein
“So, what if he doesn’t?” Sarah asked, bewildered. “Are you going to beat him up, too, just like the old days?”
“That’s unfair, Sarah. I was hoping we could be civil,” Ryan replied, hurt that she still thought so little of his character. “I haven’t figured out what to do, but I promise I won’t get physical. Give me a little credit, will you?”
She didn’t answer.
“Whatever happens when I catch up with Jarrod, I need you to consider what you tell Westbrook,” he continued. “Please, try to understand my point of view, Sarah. I’m not asking you to lie; just don’t give him any more than necessary. Can you do that for me?”
Sarah drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Ryan, I’m so tired of the endless drama between you and Jarrod. I don’t have the energy for this any longer. Just tell me what you want me to do,” she said wearily.
“Tell the detective exactly what Corky told you…nothing more. Don’t embellish anything. If he asks why I would resist arrest and where I might be headed, simply tell him we’ve been divorced for five years and you no longer understand my thinking. But whatever you tell him, please don’t let on we spoke, okay?”
“Oh, right…don’t lie, just fudge the truth. How should I answer when he asks whether I’ve had any contact with you? How should I answer when he asks if I can think of any reason why you might run? What you’re asking is not to reveal your hatred of Jarrod…isn’t that the real truth, Ryan?”
“Sarah, you’re right…as usual. You’ve always known me better than I know myself; most times you knew what I was planning before I did. That’s a touchstone in our relationship that will never change,” he said affectionately.
Ryan knew it was unfair to expect Sarah to do anything but tell the truth; it was not in her nature to do otherwise. He never felt so totally alone in all his life.
“Hellfire,” he said. “Tell the detective everything: that Jarrod and I have a rocky history; that he was the cause of our divorce; that you spoke to me this morning; that you believe I’m on my way to California to confront him. Tell him the whole truth, Sarah. Then please…pray that I somehow survive this. I love you, Sarah. Thanks for helping me think this through. Goodbye,” he said, abruptly ending the call.
“Ryan…Ryan, wait…don’t go,” Sarah hastily pleaded. “Ryan,” she repeated, realizing that he had already gone.
Sarah was astonished. She stood in the center of the office, frozen, holding the phone. It seemed like reality was momentarily suspended. She could feel Ryan’s conflict and understood the raging internal battle he waged. She felt a glimmer of hope that maybe for the first time Ryan was beginning to realize how his resentments had handicapped his emotional health. Her heart ached for him, aware of the struggles she knew he endured, and realizing that forgiveness could free his tormented mind.
She prayed for his safety, and that his meeting with Jarrod would end their longstanding, bitter rivalry. God, please keep Ryan safe. Give him wisdom; guide his path. Protect both Ryan and Jarrod as they come face-to-face. Fill them with forgiveness.
As Sarah prayed, she was struck by a thunderbolt of insight. How could she have failed to recognize her own inability to forgive? She expected Ryan to absolve years of antipathy toward Jarrod, and yet she remained steadfast in her refusal to forgive his infidelity. Why had she been unable to recognize this before now? She stopped to embrace this feeling, bowing her head in shame, asking God to forgive her own weakness. Please, God, help each of us survive this new trial and grow in Your wisdom and will for our lives.
With that comforting thought, she knew she would be ready for her meeting with Detective Westbrook, hoping for the best possible outcome, relying on her unshakable belief that truth and honesty would win out in the end.
EIGHTEEN
BERNALILLO, NEW MEXICO
16:30 HOURS
SARAH MARSHALL couldn’t calm herself down. It was difficult to concentrate following her conversation with Ryan; a thousand different thoughts competed for her attention. She felt remorseful and ashamed. Her mind was still reeling from the profound realization that she had become just as unforgiving as her ex-husband. She paced the house, at a loss for how to respond. Give me strength, she prayed.
Sarah made lists whenever she was feeling out of control. Task lists helped to calm her nerves when she could see the details prioritized. Her biggest worry was meeting Detective Westbrook, but she had several hours before he arrived. In the meantime, there were several calls to make. She decided to call her sister, Sela, then Jeremiah, and finally her father. She frowned, knowing how disappointed each of them would be.
The list was complete: Forget about Westbrook, she thought. First call Sela then Jeremiah and then Pop. Stay in the present…don’t imagine the future. There must be a reason this is happening.
Sarah placed the first call to Sela but was unsuccessful in reaching her. Her luck didn’t improve with the call to her father. She left a brief message for both explaining that Ryan was on the run from the law and out to find Jarrod. She knew that both would return her call as soon as they got the message.
Finally, she steeled herself to call Jeremiah’s cell phone. She was relieved when he directly answered the phone.
“Hi, Mom,” he exclaimed. “What’s up? You don’t usually call this time of day.”
“I’m fine, sweetheart, but your father’s in trouble. Has he contacted you?”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble? Is he hurt?” he asked, blurring his words together, fearing his dad might have been in an accident.
“Take it easy, Jer. Your father’s all right. He and his cousin had another blowup. He’s left the Rio Grande job, presumably to confront Jarrod,” she said, and explained to her only child the details of the story.
“Oh, that’s just great,” Jeremiah exclaimed. “What’s he planning to do when he catches up with him?” he asked rhetorically, realizing there was no way to predict what his dad would do when it came to Jarrod.
“God only knows what he’s thinking,” Sarah replied. “We both know that when it comes to Jarrod, there isn’t a rational thought to be had. But what concerns me most is that your father’s running from the law. There will be a criminal consequence, I’m afraid.”
“I’m coming home,” Jer suddenly said. “I’m caught up on all my work; I won’t be able to concentrate anyway.”
“You’ll do no such thing, mister,” Sarah admonished. “Now who’s not thinking straight? There’s nothing you can do here, honey. I need you to be strong; that includes staying in school while we work this out.”
“Mom, listen to me. I’m already on my way. I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“This is too important to stay on the sideline like an obedient schoolboy. This affects me, too. If Dad goes to prison, God forbid… who’ll run the company? Maybe I can talk some sense into his thick skull.”
“Jeremiah John Marshall, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay in Roswell,” she cautioned. “I can handle the business, and this whole thing could be resolved if your father would just stop his irresponsible behavior.”
“Mom, listen. You can ground me, strip my allowance, and take my car—all the things you and Dad do whenever I’m rebellious. But I’m coming home. It’s time for another man in this family to talk some sense into these guys. See you tomorrow…and don’t worry!” he said, disconnecting the call.
Sarah was infuriated. The call had not gone at all like she expected. This was turning out to be one of the worst days of her life. For not the first time, she had the disquieting feeling that her son had inherited some of his father’s impulsiveness. She was so mad she wanted to scream. Damnit! I could just strangle Ryan.
Sarah knew she had to get a grip on her emotions. There was no sense worrying about things beyond her control. But her latest family problems would require a leap of faith greater than she had ever taken.
Please, God, keep my family safe. Gi
ve me the fortitude to face this challenge.
NINETEEN
CHEYENNE, WYOMING
17:00 HOURS
RYAN MARSHALL continued to drive north from Denver, along Highway 70 toward Cheyenne, Wyoming. From there, he intersected Highway 80, which would lead to San Francisco across Utah and Nevada. He estimated the thousand-mile trip would take a minimum of twenty hours, but knew he’d need rest and food somewhere along the way. Without much delay, he figured to arrive in Palo Alto by late morning the following day, and would then search out Jarrod. He had plenty of time to formulate a plan along the way, but at the moment, 450 miles of barren desert lay directly ahead.
The monotony of the drive was overwhelmingly boring. No matter how much Ryan resisted, his dominant thoughts returned to Sarah and their life together, raising the boys. There were so many happy memories: NASCAR races, Disneyland, Dallas Cowboy games, fishing trips, and campouts. Even though it was logistically difficult to travel with a handicapped child, they had all become exceptionally resourceful. Ryan resolved early that there would never be a place that Jacob could not go. He designed a nine-passenger van with a motorized lift to accommodate his power chair, and carried a portable ramp that was used to easily traverse curbs, steps, and other impassible access points. The Marshalls were determined that Jacob would lead as normal a life as possible.
This commitment to assure that Jacob attended every function also created unintended problems. As Ryan was passing through Winnemucca, he revisited the memory of losing Jake in the Pecos wilderness one fateful day on a family outing. It was humbling to recall the extraordinary events surrounding this experience, one of the most traumatic in his life as a father.
When Jacob and Jeremiah were just six years old, the family often visited the Pecos Wilderness to pick wild mushrooms, fish for trout, and hunt doves. Mostly they wanted to introduce the twins to the wonders of nature.
On this particular trip, the Marshalls were accompanied by close friends they had known since college, Roman and Sue Hammond. The Hammonds had always been close to the Marshalls and on several previous occasions they had enjoyed camping together, along with their two sons, Gavin and Grant. The two families got along well and the kids each developed a close friendship. They all arrived on a Friday evening to set up camp, planning to return home late Sunday, as was their custom.
Saturday morning began like most others. The men led Jer and Gavin to the Pecos River, where prized cutthroat trout were known to lurk. While Jacob enjoyed fishing when he could get close enough to the water, this particular hike was too difficult for anyone to carry him that distance, the muscular dystrophy that racked his body making it impractical. Jacob grumbled, but with some coaxing, he agreed to remain behind, relying on Ryan’s promise that they would not be gone long. Everyone planned to rendezvous by mid-morning for a trip to Pecos Valley, where the local folks flew radio-controlled planes. Jacob was excited by the prospect.
Jacob was extremely good-natured. He had long ago become accustomed to being left behind on outings that required extended physical exertion. With each passing month, the muscular dystrophy slowly drained precious strength from his frail body, prohibiting aggressive physical exertion. Ryan didn’t feel too badly leaving him behind, however, because Jake had his Tonka toys and his little dog, Minnie, to keep him company.
The fishing party returned from their expedition on schedule. The boys had each caught a fish and the men caught a limit between them—more than enough for a dinner of fresh mountain rainbow trout. The boys remained excited following the river trip, and quickly engaged in an imaginary game of stalking big game. The men likewise busied themselves stowing the fishing gear, straightening the camp, and preparing the trout for the evening dinner.
But Jacob and the wives were not in camp. The Hammonds’ Nissan was missing and Ryan assumed that the women had decided to visit town for some early sightseeing. Ryan knew that Jacob would be grumpy; he wouldn’t like being with two women and a toddler, but Sarah would never leave him alone in the campsite. No more than a half-hour passed, however, before Sarah and Sue returned with only Grant—Jacob and Minnie were not with them.
Panic set in as the adults took stock of the situation: Ryan insisted he’d told Sarah that he was leaving Jacob behind; Sarah was equally certain she misunderstood this when Jacob was not in camp after the men went fishing—she assumed that Ryan had changed his mind, taking him along after all.
The initial consensus was that Jacob might simply be hiding, playing a prank for having been left behind. With this in mind, a cursory search of the area developed with everyone loudly calling Jacob’s name. Neighboring campers were alerted and many eventually joined the search for the missing boy. When the initial search was unsuccessful, Ryan and Roman returned to the campsite to look for any clues about Jacob’s whereabouts.
Ryan remembered his shock following the first hour of Jacob’s disappearance. First he denied it was happening: He can’t be missing; he’s somewhere nearby. It wasn’t like Jacob to wander off because the muscular dystrophy made walking, even on flat ground, very difficult for him. Ryan was unprepared, however, for the level of anxiety that escalated with each passing hour. Imagining that he might lose his little boy was an agonizing blow.
As the second hour of his absence approached, with Sarah becoming increasingly distraught, Ryan agreed to contact the Sheriff’s Department. So began one of the most humiliating and helpless experiences of Ryan’s life: having to admit that he had lost his handicapped six-year-old son. Ryan shuddered from the thought, a pain stabbing his chest. He wondered how he could have been so careless, and what he could have done differently. He still felt terrible guilt when he recalled the incident.
Sergeant Jack Redman from the San Miguel County Sheriff’s Department was the responding officer to the 911 call. Because Redman was three-quarters Navajo Indian, Sheriff Harrison Alford thought it wise to assign him the search-and-rescue duties for the department. It had not been a bad decision; Sergeant Redman had assembled one of the most highly qualified SAR teams in New Mexico, widely recognized by EMS professionals as the premier rope rescue team in the state.
Redman in turn alerted Captain Tom McGuirk of the Pecos volunteer SAR team, who mobilized the squad to the Pecos Valley campsite at Soda Spring. Within an hour of receiving the 911 dispatch from the SO, Redman was on the scene as volunteers from the surrounding area began trickling into the campsite.
With the SAR team in place, it was approaching four hours since Ryan and Sarah first realized Jacob was missing. To make matters worse, a formation of clouds slowly moved over the area, threatening to bring rain by evening. The situation couldn’t have been bleaker. Ryan never could shake the shame he felt the day of Jacobs’s disappearance. He regretted the humiliation of answering questions about his appearance, habits, and what could have caused him to vanish. He still fought back the hopelessness he remembered from the experience. He would have given anything to have prevented the situation.
Jacob had been missing for over five hours when the volunteers from the San Miguel County Sheriff’s Department expanded the search. Ryan marveled at the practiced efficiency with which Sergeant Redman dispatched the SAR members. A tracking team followed Jacob from his last location near the campfire; a group was sent down to the river; a team on horseback was dispatched to cover the ridge above the river canyon. Finally, a motorcycle team was directed to scour the roads for any sign of the missing subject.
Each volunteer carried a picture of Jacob—a classic of him sitting in his wheelchair, wearing a red flannel shirt, coveralls, oversized boots, and a hard hat. Was it not for the wheelchair, his attire would have perfectly blended with any of Ryan’s workers. He had a euphoric look on his face—swelling with pride to be at work with his dad, his sheer enjoyment outstripping his inability to participate. Ryan was never without this picture. It was the quintessence of Jacob’s persona. He was so courageous, so humble, and so angelic that it begged the question why God could allow
such a horrible condition. There was no justice in it.
It was near twilight when Ryan slipped away from the frenzy of the search. He was heartbroken and could no longer handle the strain. He told Roman he was going for a walk to collect his thoughts, but would return after a brief period of solitude.
As Ryan walked from the campsite, he could hear the faraway dissonance of motorcycles combing the forest for any sign of Jacob. He hadn’t walked more than a quarter-mile when he was overcome with grief. He broke down, his eyes welling with tears as he dropped to his knees, crumbling from the grief of losing his son. It was the worst feeling of his entire life.
Ryan begged God to safely return Jake, to give him one more chance—that it couldn’t yet be the time to take him away. He had always imagined that when the end drew near, they would all be together, holding Jacob close, giving him love as he was taken to heaven. He could not accept that this was going to be the end. His life just couldn’t end this way.
“Please, God,” Ryan cried out, “give me more time…let me care for him a little while longer. Please don’t take him from me now.”
For some incredible reason, Ryan was overcome by a reassuring calmness. There was a scant hour of daylight remaining. He needed to act. He couldn’t remain on his knees, hoping for a miracle. Something told him to drive the back road one last time. He never even considered ignoring the impulse.
Back at the campsite, Sarah rushed to him, grabbing his hand with tears streaking down her face, looking expectantly for answers. He explained his plan to drive the road one last time, thinking that maybe the searchers were not looking far enough.
He and Roman jumped into the truck and sped out of the campsite. They drove one mile straight up the hill following the dusty road as it switch-backed higher and higher up the mountain. At two miles, Roman questioned if it was possible for Jake to have made it this far. Ryan replied that no one had searched this road all the way to the top and that was where they were heading.