Search for Her

by Rick Mofina

  It was Riley’s left sneaker.

  Amid tense cross talk on walkie-talkies Grace got on her knees, picked up the shoe, traced her fingers over it then held it to her cheek.

  “Ma’am, please,” one of the vested searchers, a man, said between dispatches on his radio. “You have to refrain from—” A static burst on his walkie-talkie interrupted him.

  “He’s saying you have to put it back.” Sherry clasped her hand on the shoe.

  Two Las Vegas officers arrived, taking quick stock of the discovery.

  “Everyone please. Leave the item where it was found,” an officer said.

  Tenderly Grace set the shoe in the bush, keeping her eyes locked on it.

  “Who found it?” the officer asked.

  “I did. It was in the bottom of the bush,” Sherry said.

  “Did you touch it?” The officer pulled out his notebook.

  “Yes. I picked it up.”

  “I did, too,” Jazmin said, “when she called me over.”

  “I’ll need your names and information,” the officer said.

  “Then Grace here, she held it,” Jazmin said.

  The other officer took pictures of the shoe with his phone then checked description details on the initial missing person report. Then to Grace: “Mrs. Jarrett, can you confirm that this item appears to belong to your daughter?”

  “It’s Riley’s,” Grace said through her tears.

  “All right,” the picture-taking officer said, “we need everyone to please back away using the same steps you used to enter this area. The people who touched it will need to be fingerprinted.”

  The officers began making calls, requesting the Crime Scene Detail, talking urgently about sealing the area.

  Grace stared at her daughter’s shoe until something inside her broke and the ground, the mountains and sky began spinning.

  Forty-One

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Cactus Springs Medical Center was a sleek, new six-story building with tinted blue exterior glass.

  The intensive care unit was on the fourth floor. McDowell thought the soft tones of its blue mosaic wall tile brightened the place. She welcomed anything positive because any hope they’d held for finding Riley Jarrett had dimmed a short time ago when Rykhirt tried to kill himself.

  McDowell took another deep breath, digesting what had transpired.

  She and Elsen had been in the interview room when they’d heard the outburst in the hall. They’d rushed to the stairwell, encountering the distraught escorting officer, then they’d spotted Rykhirt’s contorted, bleeding body on the bottom floor.

  Another officer was with Rykhirt, checking for signs of life.

  “What the hell happened?” Elsen said.

  “He broke away, threw himself over the railing,” the distressed officer said.

  McDowell flew down the stairs to Rykhirt and bent over him.

  “Frayer! Can you hear me? Frayer!”

  He was unconscious but alive, the paramedics had said when they’d brought him here to Cactus Springs, which was less than five minutes from police headquarters. McDowell and Elsen had rushed to the hospital determined to get an admission from him. After Rykhirt had undergone emergency surgery, a tall woman wearing a white coat found them in the cafeteria.

  “Dr. Christine Grady,” she said. “They told me to look for you here.”

  “How bad is it for our guy?” Elsen asked.

  She removed her glasses, folded them.

  “He’s got multiple skull fractures, a spinal fracture, ruptured abdominal organs, internal hemorrhaging. It’s unlikely he’ll regain consciousness or survive.”

  “You’re aware of our situation, Doctor?” Elsen said.

  “I was told he was being questioned while in custody.”

  “We need to be at his bedside if he does wake up.”

  Grady nodded then slipped her glasses into her pocket.

  “You can wait in the ICU waiting room on the fourth. I’ll take you there.”

  * * *

  The room had bright-colored cushioned chairs with generous armrests. Artwork featuring calming landscapes and nature scenes hung on the walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows opened to vistas of the mountains in the distance.

  “If you need privacy, you can use this.” Grady opened the door to a small, welcoming room. “This is our room of solace for families to use after a patient is deceased.”

  The walls were papered with cards and children’s artwork thanking staff. One said: “Thank You For Being With My Grandma So She Didn’t Die All By Herself.” Taking in the messages, Elsen nodded and McDowell thanked Grady.

  In the time they waited, the detectives grew accustomed to the smells and sounds of the hospital as they worked. There would be an investigation into how Rykhirt escaped, but right now their priority was to extract the truth from him.

  And as long as he was still drawing breath, there was hope he could lead them to Riley. McDowell and Elsen were busy on their tablets and phones following up on other elements of the case with other investigators when McDowell’s phone pinged. It was a notification from the search people at the incident command center. As she read the message, she caught her breath.

  “Whoa, did you see this from Lieutenant Jackson?”

  Elsen’s eyes were on his phone. “Looking at it now.”

  “This is something solid.”

  They swiped through color photos of an aquamarine, canvas mesh sneaker. In her accompanying message, detailing the time and location of the discovery by searchers, Jackson said it appeared the shoe belonged to Riley Jarrett. Jackson advised that Crime Scene was processing the new evidence while she directed sectors to be searched.

  Tapping on her tablet, McDowell called up Grace Jarrett’s statement and report on her missing daughter, going to the detailed description of her clothing and the footwear Riley was wearing at the time of her disappearance.

  “The shoe matches the mother’s description.”

  McDowell then replayed the video showing Riley being approached and touched by Rykhirt near the murals in the Sagebrush lobby. She froze it on the brief, unobscured sequence, showing Riley head to toe. McDowell enlarged the image to study Riley’s sneakers.

  “Look, Dan.” McDowell tilted the screen. “It’s her shoe.”

  Elsen studied it. “Another piece of the puzzle, Michelle.”

  Suddenly the quiet was broken by the rush of nurses into Rykhirt’s room. The bleating of monitors spilled into the hall as they pushed the door. Dr. Grady materialized, uncollaring a stethoscope as she entered seconds behind them.

  The detectives moved to the door where another nurse stopped them from going any farther.

  “You must wait outside. Please.”

  The detectives returned to their seats and twenty minutes later, Grady approached them. “He took a turn,” she said.

  “Is he dead?” Elsen asked.

  “No, Detective, we’ve stabilized him. He’s conscious.”

  “We need to talk to him.”

  Grady blinked as she weighed matters. “He may not be lucid, or coherent, but this may be your only window,” she said. “I’ll allow five minutes, no more.”

  “Let’s go,” Elsen said.

  “First,” Grady said, “I want you in gowns, gloves, masks, hair covering. He’s in ICU, and we’ll adhere to procedures for patient safety.”

  * * *

  Once they were properly gowned, their hands, feet, face and hair covered, Grady took the detectives into Rykhirt’s room.

  The softly lit unit, with the rhythmic hum and subdued beeping of the equipment, gave it an air of calm.

  Rykhirt’s face was swollen and bruised, his eyes closed.

  A clear oxygen tube looped under his nostrils, a sensor was clipped on his right index finger, the cab
le meandering to a monitor. An IV line ran from his left arm.

  A nurse stood near Rykhirt, reading and adjusting some of the equipment next to his bed. Grady gestured, and the nurse moved the IV pole so the detectives could move to the head of the bed with McDowell on Rykhirt’s left side and Elsen on his right.

  The detectives looked to Grady who nodded for them to proceed.

  “Mr. Rykhirt,” McDowell said. “I’m Detective Michelle McDowell here with Detective Dan Elsen. Can you hear us?”

  A moment passed and Rykhirt’s eyes opened, glassy as he took in the detectives.

  “Can you acknowledge us?” Elsen said.

  Rykhirt’s eyes fluttered, and he gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  “We need your help,” McDowell said. “We need you to make a declaration—a true statement to help us.”

  Rykhirt’s eyes fluttered.

  “We found Riley’s shoe in the desert, Frayer,” Elsen said. “Where is she and what did you do to her?”

  Rykhirt shut his eyes and the monitor bleeped.

  “Frayer, think of her family,” Elsen said. “If you truly care for her, now is the time to do the right thing. Unburden yourself and tell us the truth.”

  Rykhirt clenched his eyes tighter and his mouth began moving, his raspy voice barely rising above a whisper.

  “Not...going...back...to prison...”

  “Mr. Rykhirt, where is Riley? What happened to Riley?”

  The monitor’s beeping kicked up.

  “You...never...find...her...”

  “Frayer, tell us where she is,” Elsen said.

  The nurse, who had been watching Rykhirt’s signs and numbers on the display screens, shot Grady a glance of concern.

  “Frayer,” Elsen said. “Tell us where she is.”

  “She’ll...always...be...with...me...”

  Rykhirt’s head lolled to the side, triggering high-pitched alerts from the monitors. The nurse and Grady stepped into action. McDowell, who’d been recording Rykhirt on her phone, cleared the way. More staff arrived, forcing the detectives out of the room with urgency as the tracking lines on Rykhirt’s monitors flattened.

  * * *

  Nearly half an hour later, Grady came out of the room, her face flushed, moist with perspiration.

  “He went into cardiac arrest,” she told the detectives. “We did all we could.”

  McDowell and Elsen exchanged glances.

  “He’s deceased,” Grady said, observing the two enlarged images filling McDowell’s tablet.

  A brilliant, aquamarine sneaker in the desert and next to it, the Silver Sagebrush lobby with a man’s hand on a girl’s shoulder.

  Forty-Two

  Nevada

  But maybe finding Riley’s sneaker was a good thing?

  Scenarios ripped through Grace’s mind, at times encouraging her.

  Maybe Riley escaped from Rykhirt, was frightened and hiding somewhere in the desert. Or maybe Riley was so angry with Grace she ran from the truck stop, got hurt and was out here praying to be found.

  Grace scanned the horizon, unable to stop her imagination from stabbing her with the darkest possibility of all.

  Rykhirt brought her out here and killed her.

  That fear had consumed Grace when she first saw her daughter’s shoe then nearly collapsed. Jazmin, Sherry, then John and Blake, had come to her aid. Though she’d since recovered somewhat, her scalp was prickling and she’d slipped into a state of numbed reality while watching the sun sinking lower and lower, like her hope.

  A dog yipped, giving her a modicum of comfort.

  Despite the odds, every effort to find Riley continued.

  In the distance a police K-9 unit, having scented off of Riley’s shoe, worked to detect a possible trail, while crime scene analysts wearing protective gear methodically processed the sneaker and the area around the bush. They took samples of the branches and sifted the soil for any trace evidence.

  Police had also refocused their search of the surrounding area, combing it shoulder-to-shoulder while a helicopter crisscrossed overhead.

  John touched Grace’s shoulder, indicating a message on his phone. “They want us to go back to the command center.”

  * * *

  “We continue to hope for the best,” McDowell said, “but you must be prepared for all possibilities.”

  John and Grace exchanged looks. “What the hell does that mean?” John said.

  “And why didn’t you keep us updated?” Grace said. “Why are we learning everything from the press?”

  “I’m sorry,” McDowell said. “I did call but the connection was weak and we got cut off, then we got busy.”

  “We had our hands full at the time,” Elsen said.

  “We have to protect the integrity of the investigation,” McDowell said. “That said; we should’ve done better.”

  McDowell glanced at Elsen; their sober expressions signaled that things had deteriorated in the case. The family stood alone inside the mobile command center with the two investigators.

  “What is it you want us to be prepared for?” John said.

  McDowell’s eyes threw John’s question to Elsen.

  “Rykhirt is dead,” Elsen said.

  “What?” John said.

  “During a bathroom break while being questioned, he escaped custody, flung himself down a stairwell and died of his injuries. We wanted you to hear it from us first.”

  Grace’s hand found a counter to steady herself while staring at the detectives.

  “But you talked to him?” John said. “What did he tell you about Riley?”

  “We know he was involved,” Elsen said.

  “We all know that!” Grace said. “What does his death mean now?”

  “We’re still investigating, working on evidence,” Elsen said.

  “Didn’t he tell you anything?” John said. “We know he was with Riley. Where is she? Did he hurt her?”

  Searching their faces, Grace gave her head a shake. “You don’t know, do you?” she said.

  “We have nothing to confirm she’s been hurt,” Elsen said.

  “That’s wrong. We found her shoe out there,” Grace shouted. “We found it, not you!”

  “Mrs. Jarrett, we know this is difficult,” McDowell said.

  “Difficult? He was a sex offender who liked young girls! We know he touched my daughter! She’s gone and now he’s dead!” She closed her hands into fists and pounded her knees. “From the start you accused us of hurting her, being drug dealers and liars. Then you find the man who took my daughter and you won’t tell us the truth. Why are you torturing me? Tell me the truth!”

  “We’re telling you the truth,” Elsen said.

  “You’re not!” Grace shook her head wildly, tears flowing. “It’s just like that other girl, Eva. My daughter Riley’s buried out there somewhere, isn’t she? Isn’t that what you want me to brace for?”

  “Grace,” McDowell said.

  “Riley’s dead, isn’t she?” she screamed.

  Blake put his hands on her shoulders to comfort her as she dropped her head and sobbed.

  McDowell lowered herself before Grace and placed her hands on her knees.

  “I know this is hard and nothing we say helps,” McDowell said. “But until we know for certain, we can’t lose hope.”

  Grace stared at the floor, her tears falling.

  A moment passed then the detectives left.

  Forty-Three

  Nevada

  Grace looked out at the miles and miles of scrub.

  It was late, long after Elsen and McDowell had returned to Las Vegas; long after the sun had set, streaking the sky in peach and pink coral before it dissolved into darkness and an eternity of stars.

  Sweeping her flashlight she found a large rock, sat, and tr
ied to swallow her pain.

  How could she go on? She and the others had continually searched the truck stop, the desert all in vain but for Riley’s shoe, leaving Grace to grapple with her anguish.

  It seems like only hours ago we’d set out to start a new chapter of our lives. It can’t end this way. I know you’re punishing me, but please God, don’t let it end this way. I’m begging you.

  But Grace was familiar with unwanted endings, with death and her role in it.

  A light raked over her, the ground crunched, then John emerged to be with her. They sat, silent in the quiet, watching the lights of searchers dotting every corner of the desert, combing and probing for as far as they could see, the interstate traffic humming in the distance.

  “It’s my fault,” Grace said to the night. “For arguing with her then leaving her.” Her voice broke. “How could I leave her?”

  “Stop.” John put his arm around her, pulled her to him and she sobbed on his chest. “We don’t know anything, until we have proof. But one thing I do know is that this is not your fault. It’s mine.”

  “Yours?”

  “We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me moving us all to Pittsburgh. You and Riley had a life in San Diego.”

  “So did you and Blake. We all did.”

  “I didn’t think this through. I was thinking of myself.”

  She pulled away from his chest, brushing her face. “But you have this great job and a better salary waiting.”

  “Yes.”

  “You said things were terrible at SoCal SoYou. You’d put in hard years working your way up, then management changed and they began treating you so badly you had to get out. You said you had no choice.”

  “I never told you how bad it got, what was at stake,” he said.

  “Why not?”

  John didn’t respond. Grace saw his profile silhouetted against the night sky as if now, in the darkness, in this moment, he was ready to lay bare, to confess, his deepest feelings.