Search for Her

by Rick Mofina

  Grace stared at the pills in her palm.

  Blake was watching.

  Grace went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. While running the cold water she looked into the mirror, at the bandages on her temple and cheek, the dried, bloodied abrasions, the creases worry had carved into her face, her messed hair and her glistening eyes.

  Riley.

  She had to find Riley.

  Grace was about to take the pills when a phone rang. It was John’s.

  She went to him, catching her breath, listening, her hopes soaring.

  “Yes,” John told the caller. “We’re doing our best...yes... Really?”

  “Did they find her?” Grace asked.

  John shook his head, held up his hand, continuing with the call. “You don’t have to—well, yes... Right. The Silver Sagebrush on 15 just north of Primm. We’re here at the motel. Thank you, Norm. Thank everyone for us.”

  Ending the call, he looked at Grace. “That was Norm Hollister,” he said.

  “Norm, our old neighbor? The retired police officer?”

  “Yeah, he saw a story about Riley on a San Diego TV station. And it’s on social media. Norm and his wife volunteer with the San Diego Police, and they’re coordinating a group to come here from San Diego to help search.”

  Grace put her hands over her mouth.

  “Some are driving,” John said. “Some will fly at their own expense. They want to be here as early as possible to start tomorrow.”

  “Oh, that’s so—I can’t believe it!” Grace said.

  John ran a hand over his haggard, unshaven face.

  “That’s good, right?” Blake said.

  “It’s good,” John said, glancing around the room. Then, rubbing his upper arm and the back of his neck, as if recalling the crash and other horrors of the day, he said: “Grace, we really need to rest so we can be ready to do whatever we need to do in the morning.”

  Blake indicated the next room. “I guess I’ll take that one.” Then, nodding to the piles, he said: “Want me to take Riley’s stuff in there, too?”

  “No! Leave it!” Grace burst with alarm, her restraint fracturing. “Where’s Riley going to sleep tonight?” Grace sobbed and screamed, “Riley!”

  John wrapped his arms around her, holding her, soothing her as she buried her face into his chest and cried. He nodded to Blake to dim the lights. He did. Then Blake retreated to his room with his bag, as John continued to comfort Grace.

  “Take it easy, take a breath, you’re drained.” He held her, rocking her. “Let the pills do their work and rest, just rest.”

  They stayed that way for the longest time.

  When her sobbing subsided, John tenderly removed only her shoes before laying her back on the bed, covering her with the blankets and kissing her.

  Then he switched off the lights.

  * * *

  Grace hadn’t taken the pills John had given her. Still, she’d sunk to the edge of sleep. For how long, she didn’t know.

  Coming out of it, her sluggish brain thudded like a hammer against an anvil, pounding reality into her.

  My daughter’s missing!

  Get up! Find her!

  Grace opened her eyes. A night-light spilled from the open bathroom door.

  John was in the other bed, atop the sheets, dressed, breathing hard, dead asleep.

  Blake’s door was closed. She saw a seam of light along the floor and guessed he was awake.

  Turning her head aggravated the stiffness in her neck and shoulders. The aftermath of the crash, she thought as her nightstand vibrated where her phone was charging. Her pulse skipped as she seized it, swiping to check who the message was from.

  Jazmin Reyna.

  Just heard about Riley! So sorry! A bunch of us from the hospital are coming to the truck stop ASAP to help! Keep the faith! Praying hard!

  Grace’s screen blurred as tears rolled down her face and she typed, It’s the Silver Sagebrush. Thank you!

  Holding her phone to her heart, she wiped her cheeks.

  Again, she saw Riley’s items piled neatly at the foot of her bed like a headstone to her absence.

  Like an accusation of Grace’s failings.

  Why didn’t you check on her? Why did you leave her?

  Screaming inside, Grace put on her shoes and left the room to search for her daughter.

  Twenty-Three

  Nevada

  The moment Grace entered the main building, she texted John and Blake. Couldn’t sleep. Looking for Riley.

  It was 1:30 a.m. Every outlet and restaurant was open, and while it was not as busy as it was during the day, a number of all-night travelers were moving through the complex. The casino’s ringing, beeping and flashing lights were unrelenting. In the main lobby, she looked up at one of the large electronic advertising signs.

  Riley’s face was there. Haunting her.

  Grace was pulled back to the day she’d taken Riley to the supermarket. Riley was three and didn’t want to sit in the baby seat. She wanted to walk holding the cart. Grace was taking her time reading ingredients, comparing two brands of food. When she’d finished and looked down, her stomach lurched.

  Riley was gone.

  Grace looked up and down the aisle.

  No Riley.

  She called out for her, running to the next aisle, her throat dry, her heart racing, panic webbing through her until she found Riley, alone at a display for pet food tapping a life-size cutout of kittens.

  Now, staring at her face, Grace pleaded. Let me find you again.

  Needing to form a plan, Grace went to the Silverado store where Riley was last seen. A new shift was on staff. She approached a man in his forties restocking shelves, showing him photos on her phone.

  “No, ma’am. I haven’t seen her. I’m sorry.” He shook his head and resumed working.

  Grace went to the counter, to the young woman there who studied the pictures, too.

  “You’re her mother? They told us to watch out for her.” The woman hadn’t seen her. “I just started today and this is my first shift.”

  Grace made the same inquiry with every person in the store before she moved to the food court and restaurants, approaching strangers, stopping them.

  “Excuse me...excuse me...” Grace would begin, thrusting her phone at them, desperation in her voice. “I’m looking for my daughter—have you seen her?”

  Women, themselves mothers, met her appeal with concern, even empathy. A few younger men were indifferent, suspicious her request was a pretext to a scam.

  No one had seen Riley.

  As Grace continued, she noticed that the announcements paging Riley had ceased. But she kept moving, inspecting the bathrooms, checking every stall, crouching, calling for Riley. She scrutinized the casino, interrupting gamblers, imploring them to help.

  As she passed The Long Haul Bar & Grill she stopped in her tracks.

  Riley was looking out from one of the rows of big screens flickering above the bar. One of them was showing an all-news channel. Grace was too far away to hear the story. Riley’s face filled the top corner of the screen, while images of the Silver Sagebrush played above the news crawler, which read: Search For Missing California Teen Near Las Vegas.

  More images of their crash on the interstate, flashing lights on emergency vehicles, traffic backed up, the truck stop, the police command post and the police helicopter flying over the desert.

  Grace’s stomach knotted.

  Then the report displayed the face of another teen next to Riley’s. Eva Marie Garcia, age seventeen, of Riverside, California. The images, flagged as File: One Year Ago, showed yellow crime scene tape, investigators in white jumpsuits moving a body bag. The ticker read, Is New Case Linked To California Teen’s Unsolved Murder In Area?

  Shaking her head slowly, Grac
e’s scalp tingled. She began walking, then half trotting toward the exit. Stepping into the night, she ran.

  Twenty-Four

  Nevada

  DAD!

  The cold water...the heaving waves...a hand breaking the surface...trying to reach her...the rolling swells taking her deeper into the blackness...a gurgled horrifying scream. HELP ME, DAD!

  “...Dad?”

  Half-asleep, John wondered why he was dry, why he was shaking and why Blake was talking to him now.

  Then another jolt woke him.

  “Dad. Wake up. She’s gone.”

  Grunting, he sat up and Blake held his phone to his father’s face.

  John squinted in the motel-room light, momentarily disoriented before focusing, reading Grace’s text.

  “This isn’t good. We’ve got to find her.” He got up. “I need a second.”

  Wincing and rubbing the soreness in his shoulders, John went to the bathroom, splashed water on his face, dried off, grabbed the room key then unplugged his phone from its charger.

  “Let’s go.”

  They left their room, hurried down the long breezeway connected to the main building and started looking for her.

  “She should be sleeping,” John said. “She must not have taken the pills.”

  “Where do you think she went?”

  “Could be anywhere. We’ll split up. I’ll take the casino, the bars and food places. You take the Silverado store and everything in that section.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s keep each other posted. Be safe.”

  Blake strode in the direction of the store, leaving his father alone in the middle of the main lobby.

  * * *

  John took a breath and let it out. As he started for the casino, his phone rang. Seeing the number, he tensed before answering.

  “Apologies for the late call, but I’ve just learned the terrible news.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Let me say, I’m very sorry your daughter’s missing, and I hope it will all be resolved happily.”

  “Thank you. Goodbye.”

  “Wait, John. I need to remind you.”

  “Of what?”

  “The agreement.”

  “Why?”

  “To stress that you cannot disclose it, under any circumstances, even to the police in this time of crisis.”

  A silent moment passed between them.

  “Did you disclose it to police, John?”

  John was silent.

  “You understand, John, this is a critical time and disclosing it will have a negative impact for you and all parties involved.”

  Another moment passed. Then, through gritted teeth John said, “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  He hung up and wiped his shaking hand over his face.

  * * *

  Blake did not go to the Silverado.

  Careful that his father, or Grace, wherever she was, didn’t see him, he went to the store near it, the large retail outlet that had the jewelry he thought Riley would like.

  Few people were shopping there when he walked through it, searching for Grace, his dad, anyone who might know him.

  He didn’t see them here.

  Relieved that the staff had changed, he went to the electronics section and the area displaying prepaid phones.

  A guy with frizzy red hair tied into a ponytail emerged behind the counter.

  “Need some help?”

  “I’ll take that one.” Blake tapped the glass, pointed at a phone. “With that plan.”

  “Sure.” The clerk began ringing it up. It was less than fifty dollars.

  “I’ll pay cash.”

  After purchasing the phone, Blake went to the nearest bathroom, entered a stall where he unboxed the phone and began setting it up.

  Switching it on, he heard the welcoming jingle. Then he went through various steps, setting up a number, paying for the plan with the refill card. He received a message that activation would take a few minutes. A chime indicated he had internet access.

  He skipped setting up accounts, secured the phone with a strong PIN, skipped various apps he didn’t need, scrolled through and accepted the privacy statement and a few minutes later, the phone indicated he was good to go.

  Tossing the packaging in the trash, Blake left the bathroom and found an alcove that offered a degree of privacy. Keeping his back to a wall, ensuring no one was within earshot, he tapped in a number he’d memorized and called it.

  It began ringing. And ringing.

  Come on. Come on. Answer.

  A connection was made but no one spoke.

  Waiting a moment, adjusting his hold on the phone, he spoke. “This is Blake from San Diego.”

  Then a barely audible male voice said, “Wait.”

  A long moment later a new male voice was on the line. “You were told never to call this number.”

  Blake swallowed. “This is an emergency—my sister—”

  “We know what happened. The whole world knows what happened.”

  “It wasn’t my fault.”

  “You fucked up, bro.”

  “No, it wasn’t my fault! Do you know where Riley is? Do you have her?”

  The line went dead, sending fear slithering up Blake’s spine.

  Tears stood in his eyes. What have I done?

  Lowering the phone, he looked around, helpless as the night his mother and sister drowned.

  * * *

  Grace ran through the parking lot. She had to find Riley.

  Her attention went to the far reaches of the lot where they had stopped their rented RV and got out.

  It was only hours ago but it felt like a lifetime.

  Again she took in the police command post that occupied the same spot, but now there were additional emergency vehicles beside it, as if Riley’s disappearance had become a growth industry. Grace debated going to the command post, thinking police there might know something, might tell her something.

  No, if they’d found her, I’d know.

  She avoided the command post because she couldn’t bear to hear police telling her for the millionth time: “We’re doing all we can. We’re searching everywhere.” All the while their suspicions about them bubbled below the surface.

  Have you ever struck her, or abused her? Are you involved in her being missing? Where is she?

  And now they found the RV had drugs in it. They’d put them in handcuffs!

  Grace’s mind raced. Eclipsing it all were her failures, and her guilt for being angry at Riley and not waking her.

  Because I didn’t want to deal with her, I left her here and now she’s gone.

  Grace’s phone vibrated with a text from John. Where are you?

  She tapped her answer: Did they find her?

  No. Please come back and rest. Where are you? I’ll come get you.

  I can’t sleep. I’m looking for her. Talk to you later.

  Grace, tell me where you are. Please.

  She didn’t respond.

  Heart aching, mind racing, she moved across the road and into the desert east of the Silver Sagebrush. The darkness beyond was dotted by searchers in the distance looking for Riley, their flashlights sweeping the ground.

  Grace turned on her phone’s light and, finding a gap in the low-lying barbed-wire fence that paralleled the interstate for miles, she headed farther into the night. She was slowed by the uneven sand and stone terrain, stumbling at times. But she kept going.

  She brushed against cacti and the tug of waist-high shrubs but continued, combing the ground with her light, searching for Riley, her panic and guilt shooting her back...

  Back to the night Tim flew home from Chicago without telling her, surprising her. He was so happy, kissing her, wanting to talk about a decision he�
��d made.

  But before they could talk, she’d sent him out. Sent him to his death.

  Grace’s heart beat faster. She was being punished for what she did to Tim.

  Grace heard the thumping of the police helicopter, on the other side of the interstate, far off to the west, its powerful searchlight probing the desert for Riley.

  Grace screamed out for her daughter. “RILEY!”

  Her phone rang.

  Weak with relief, she answered the call from her friend Sherry Penmark.

  “Grace! I just heard the news about Riley. I’m coming!”

  “Sherry, oh God!” Grace sobbed. “No, no, your aunt is sick.”

  “It’ll be okay. I’m getting on an early-morning flight. I’ll be there.”

  Grace let her tears flow, and with it, the truth.

  “It’s my fault.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “She was asleep. We argued. I was so mad at her. I didn’t wake her and we drove off without her.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up—”

  “How could I leave her? I lost her! It’s my fault, like with Tim!”

  “Stop. I’ll be there as fast as I can and we’re going to find her.”

  After the call Grace remained rooted in the night as the helicopter passed overhead, its blazing light piercing the night, the beginnings of downwash stirring sand and dust around her. In the raging fury and chaos she thought of Eva Marie Garcia, the images of a body bag being transferred from the desert on a gurney.

  She fell to her knees.

  Please, let me find Riley.

  DAY 2

  Twenty-Five

  Jean, Nevada

  The next morning Margot Winton took out her phone while waiting in line to check out of the Cholla Sun Trail Hotel.

  She’d left Las Vegas yesterday, stopping in Jean for the night. She’d wanted to get an early start this morning on the two-hour drive home to Barstow, California. But the people checking out ahead of her had an issue with their bill and there was only one clerk on duty.