by Rick Mofina
After assessing the circumstances, Rogan made several radio dispatches then nodded to the other officers.
“We’ve got paramedics coming to check the girl. Remove the cuffs, we’ll sort this out.”
Rogan then took John, Grace and Blake aside.
“I get that this is an emotionally intense time,” he said, “but it’s dangerous to take matters into your own hands. You’ve got to let us do our job.”
“And what’re you doing?” John said.
“We’re continuing to search the complex for her. Detectives from our Missing Persons Detail will be here soon. We’ll likely bring in our Search and Rescue Unit. We’ll expand the search to increase our efforts to find your daughter.”
Helpless and sore, Grace, John and Blake surveyed the huge truck stop, with its gas lines, parking lots and traffic, and nodded.
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, after talking with the paramedics, the girl, Olivia Vaughan, and her uncle, Darryl Hecker; and after verifying their identifications, their documents and making calls, Rogan had determined Hecker had no record and no outstanding warrants. He was a sergeant with the Nevada National Guard’s 72nd Military Police Company. His license and permit were in order and his story checked out.
They were free to leave.
But not Grace and her family.
They were hostage to growing fears about Riley.
Grace and Brandy, the young staff member, went through every restroom inside the complex, looking in empty stalls, calling for Riley over those that were in use. Grace’s heart rose each time her phone or Riley’s chimed with a notification for a text.
It was never Riley.
It was Dakota, or one of Riley’s other friends, Claire or Ashley, asking if there was any news on where she was.
We haven’t heard from her.
Is she all right?
Is something wrong?
Her body aching, her mind numb with worry, Grace went from bathroom to bathroom with a patient Brandy, listening to the public address echo as the truck stop continued paging Riley.
This can’t be real.
It was as if Grace were walking through a horrible dream.
Riley, where are you? Why didn’t I wake you up? Why didn’t I check on you before we left? This is my fault.
The surroundings blurred and Grace sat on a bench and sobbed.
Brandy sat next to her, put her arm around her.
“It’s going to be okay.” She passed her tissues. “We’ll find her.”
* * *
Even though Rogan and Aldrich had said the entire Sagebrush had been searched, John looked for Riley in the drivers’ lounge, the fitness room, the showers, the arcade and the pet area.
It was futile.
I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve insisted Blake wake Riley when we stopped. From the time we left San Diego, this morning was strained. Everyone was on edge. I should’ve taken that into account when we stopped here. I knew there was a risk, leaving her in the RV after she’d argued with us...
At that moment, John’s memory pulled him back. But he fought it because he didn’t want to remember.
He continued searching for Riley in the barber shop, then the public library. Then the chapel.
That’s where he could no longer keep the past from tormenting him as he remembered the knifing wind, the whipping rain and the ocean rising and falling.
Eight
Nevada
Detective Michelle McDowell of the Missing Persons Detail tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of the unmarked Chevrolet.
She had a tendency to do it each time she and her partner were called out on a new case. Tapping helped her anticipate all they had to do. The twist in this one was the crash. McDowell turned to her partner to gauge his thoughts.
Good luck with that.
Dan Elsen’s face was as impassive as the presidents on Mount Rushmore. He rarely smiled. He’d lost his wife two years ago after she overdosed on opioids while mourning her parents who’d been killed by a drunk driver. Elsen was at her hospital bedside, holding her, when she took her last breath.
Since his wife’s death, McDowell was one of the few people Elsen tolerated. He’d once confided to her that his job and his dog were the only things keeping him upright.
Now, after swiping through his tablet and reading updates, Elsen looked at the road ahead. They took the Boulevard south because 15 was still backed up with traffic.
“Got some video of her; and a false sighting by the family leading to an altercation between the father and a guardsman at the pumps,” he said. “Nothing beyond that, yet.”
“What’s your take so far, Dan?”
“We’ll talk to the sub then the parents, and we’ll ascertain the possibility of a criminal act. We’ll enhance search efforts. We’ll assume nothing.”
“I know the drill.” McDowell reached for her Raiders coffee cup, a gift from Jack, her ten-year-old son. She shared custody with her ex and his new girlfriend. “I want your thoughts.”
“You want me to speculate?”
“What do you think of the situation, leaving the girl, the crash?”
“At this stage there’s nothing to be gained by speculating. We work with facts and evidence,” he said. “I’m curious. What does your gut tell you?”
McDowell let out a breath.
“In most cases we find people.”
“But not every time.”
“No. Not every time.”
She looked out at the desert without having to say more.
They both knew.
Rhythmic ticktocking sounded as McDowell signaled for the exit to the Silver Sagebrush.
* * *
Officer Nate Rogan greeted the detectives and walked them through the truck stop to the section with security and admin offices. They went straight to the control room to see the video of Riley Jarrett in the convenience store.
Rogan then took McDowell and Elsen into an empty office and closed the door. His deep-set eyes grew intense as he read from his notes, briefing them for several minutes. He assured them that search efforts were ongoing with Metro officers, NHP and employees before closing his notebook and handing off the investigation.
“Aldrich is holding staff,” Rogan said. “Shifts have ended for some and they want to go.”
“They need to be patient,” Elsen said. “And if any staff have left recently, or their shift ended, call them back so we can talk to them.”
“We’ll request more people from the detail for interviews,” McDowell said. “We’ll likely set up a command post and call in the SAR unit.”
“Let’s put out an Amber Alert,” Elsen said.
“But the key factors aren’t there,” Rogan said. “Was she abducted, taken against her will? Is she in danger? We have no suspect vehicle.”
“We know, but taking everything into consideration, let’s move on it. You can direct any pushback to me,” Elsen said. “And, I saw the electronic advertising signs. Can you get Aldrich to get her face and details up there, too?”
“Sure,” Rogan said.
“We need someone to follow the RV to the tow yard for potential evidence. Michelle and I will get a warrant,” Elsen said.
“We’ll get someone on the RV,” Rogan said. “Management cleared some offices for us. I’ve separated the family so you can take their formal statements.” Rogan reached for the door. “I’ll let you get to it.”
“This is going to be a challenge,” Elsen said.
Rogan and McDowell waited for him to elaborate.
“We’ve got malfunctioning cameras in a location that is second in the state only to McCarran for its volume of travelers. We’re coming up on two and a half hours since the family says they first stopped here. Time’s working against us.”
Nevada
Grace sat alone in the empty office, helpless, waiting at someone’s desk as if trespassing on their work space and their life.
To the right of the monitor and keyboard was a coffee mug with Best Mom Ever printed on it. To the left, a tiny plush velour teddy bear next to a framed photo showing an adolescent boy and girl, a woman and a man, all beaming in front of a sign that read Nova Scotia. Clipped to the half wall above it was a calendar with dates noting, “Billie/Dentist” and “Report Due” and “Trevor’s BDay!” circled in red.
It was as if she’d been inserted into someone’s happy, ordered life, while hers spun out of control.
Grace set the two phones on the desk, covered her face with her bandaged hands, sliding her shaking fingers into her hair, stifling a scream.
Where are you, Riley?
Why are they making me sit here when I need to keep searching?
Riley’s phone vibrated. Grace snatched it up. It was a text from Dakota.
Hi Mrs. Jarrett. No one’s heard from her still. What’s going on?
Grace began typing a response. Her chin crumpled and she deleted what she’d started, clenched her eyes shut, opened them and looked to the ceiling. She just couldn’t do it. She couldn’t lie to Riley’s friends that everything was fine, or everything was going to be fine.
Not knowing was unbearable, filling her with fear for what they faced: the size of the Silver Sagebrush, so many people, so many cars and big trucks coming and going out here in the middle of the desert.
Grace pressed Riley’s phone to her heart and prayed.
Please, Riley. Please. Just materialize. Just show up with a stupid explanation—any explanation. If you’re angry with me then let’s have it out. But please, please, don’t punish me like this. Not after all we’ve been through. Come back to me! I can’t go through this again.
In an instant Grace was back in her living room, on that night, wondering what was taking Tim so long, wondering why he wasn’t answering his phone. Then she saw headlights. But it wasn’t Tim. A police car had stopped in front of their house. Through the window she saw two uniformed officers get out, a male and a female. Her doorbell rang. She opened the door and saw it in their sober faces, saw it in their eyes, and she knew, knew it before they spoke the words.
“Ma’am, is this the home of Timothy Phillip Jarrett?”
* * *
The office door opened.
Grace’s thoughts shifted to the man and woman who’d entered.
She guessed the man was just over six feet, wearing a dark sport coat, white shirt and green checkered tie. He was bald with short salt-and-pepper hair on the sides. He looked to be in his early fifties. His craggy face held a world-weary expression while his eyes held a measure of sadness.
The woman appeared to be on either side of forty and was about five-five. She had a pin-striped navy blazer over a white shirt and jeans. She had blond hair, brushing her shoulders, sharp, pretty eyes, a sincere smile and a warm, firm grip.
“I’m Detective Michelle McDowell, this is Detective Dan Elsen. We’re with Las Vegas Metro’s Missing Persons Detail. We’re going to help you find your daughter, but we need your help.”
“Yes, anything.”
Taking inventory of Grace’s bandages and scrapes, Elsen asked: “You’re okay to talk?”
“Yes.”
“We want you to know that in most cases, we are able to locate missing people,” McDowell said.
Grace nodded, embracing the encouragement.
“And we’re going to do all we can to ensure Riley’s reunited with her family.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“We need to ask you some questions to help us.”
“But we’ve already told Officer Rogan everything.”
“We’ve spoken with him and have his preliminary report, but because this is now a missing person matter we’re taking responsibility.”
Grace’s eyes widened slightly, and she swallowed as McDowell unfolded the keyboard case of her tablet and positioned it on the desk.
“If it’s all right with you, we’ll record this so we have all the information accurately?”
“Sure, but people are still out there looking for her, right?”
“Yes,” said Elsen, who’d been watching Grace closely.
McDowell began by stating who was present, the location, the date, the time, the case and number assigned to it. Then she took out her notebook and continued by having Grace provide details of Riley’s date of birth, physical description and detailing the clothing Riley was wearing.
“Now, for the record, we’ll go over a few things. Some questions may be difficult but we need to ask them, okay?” McDowell said.
“Okay.”
“Why don’t you start by telling us what happened.”
Grace related how they were in the process of moving from San Diego to Pittsburgh and had rented an RV for a cross-country family vacation, leaving that morning planning to make Las Vegas their first stop before going on to the Grand Canyon. She recounted how Riley and Blake kept their faces in their screens, frustrating her to the point she confiscated their phones and locked them in the glove compartment.
“That’s when Riley and I argued and she stomped off to sleep in the back bedroom.”
“This was when you were at or near Baker?” McDowell said.
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t stop there and your only Nevada stop was here?”
“That’s right.”
“Riley was angry you’d taken her phone?” Elsen asked.
“Not just that, she was angry about moving, leaving her friends and because I pushed her to break up with her boyfriend, Caleb Clarke.”
“Why did you do that?” McDowell asked.
“Caleb was seventeen, almost eighteen. He was too old for her. I didn’t think it was appropriate.”
“How long had they been dating?” McDowell asked.
“About five months. I was against it the whole time, but it was hard to keep them apart.”
“Did Riley often defy you?” Elsen asked.
“No, just with Caleb.”
“Do you think Riley was in contact with Caleb all morning?” McDowell asked.
“Maybe but I can’t be certain. Blake said she uses self-destructing messages.”
“Could Riley have arranged to secretly meet Caleb here?”
“No, he’s not even in the country because he was flying to Africa with his dad around the time we left,” Grace said. “And, our stop here was not planned. Besides, she was asleep in the back.”
“And she was still sleeping when you stopped here?” McDowell said.
“Yes, in the back bedroom with the door closed.”
“Why didn’t you wake her?” Elsen asked.
“Because of her mood, because she’d been up so early, because I knew we wouldn’t be long. So I left her a note.”
“But you can’t be sure she saw it?” Elsen said.
“No, I can’t.”
“So she leaves the RV without a phone and her family drives away thinking she’s asleep in the back. That’s what happened?” Elsen said.
“Not exactly. I mean, yes, she must’ve gone inside looking for us. We didn’t see her but we assumed she was in the back because—”
“Excuse me, why didn’t you check on her before leaving the truck stop?” Elsen asked.
“That’s just it. I asked Blake to check and he said she was fine.”
“So was she there, or not there?” Elsen said.
“No, Blake lied about checking—”
“Why?”
“—because we were all still upset about the fight. And I—I—” Grace thrust her face into her hands. “I should’ve checked myself. I should have, but�
�” Grace took a teary breath “—for the same reasons we didn’t wake her before. I was mad at her. I wanted her to sleep. Oh God, I was wrong! I should’ve checked on her!”
“All right, so you’d gone a few miles past Jean when you realized what had happened and turned around?” McDowell said.
“Yes, that’s when we crashed.”
“And in all this time Riley’s never got to a phone, never contacted you?”
“No.” Grace held up Riley’s phone. “Her friends haven’t heard anything from her either.”
“Will you give Riley’s phone to us so we can check who she’s been in contact with, what sites she’s visited?” McDowell asked.
Grace hesitated before handing the phone to her.
“Thank you. We will obtain a warrant for it.”
“A warrant?”
“It’s a routine matter,” McDowell said. “We’ll also need any other devices she has.”
“There’s her tablet but it’s in the RV.”
“We’ll look through it at the tow yard,” McDowell said. “To see if anything was left behind that might indicate where Riley went. We’ll get a warrant for the RV, too.”
“This sounds so serious.”
“We’re just following procedure,” McDowell said.
“And no one has contacted your family claiming to have kidnapped Riley, or demanding a ransom?” Elsen asked.
“No.”
“Grace.” Elsen leaned closer to her. “If they warned you not to talk to police, you should tell us.”
Grace swallowed and shook her head. “No one’s contacted us.”
“Has Riley been to Nevada before?” McDowell asked.
“No.”
“Do you have relatives or friends here, anyone she may have tried to contact?”
“No.”
McDowell continued the questions. Had Riley ever been missing before? Had she ever missed school, appointments? Does she have any medical issues requiring medication? Does she have any mental illness, or physical impairments, any suicidal thoughts?