Search for Her

by Rick Mofina

  The investigators continued debating scenarios for several minutes before the meeting wrapped up. People collected their phones, tablets, laptops and notebooks and headed out of the room, leaving Holland, Elsen and McDowell alone for a postmeeting huddle.

  But before Holland spoke to the detectives, he nodded to the two FBI agents at the opposite end of the table. Both were examining their phones.

  “What’s up?” Elsen asked.

  Caffrey got up and shut the door. “We just got something that you need to know,” he said.

  “A lead from the trafficking task force?”

  Before answering, the two FBI agents took seats beside Elsen, McDowell and Holland joining them at their end of the table.

  “No,” Caffrey said. “Dan, you had requested the Bureau locate Riley Jarrett’s boyfriend, or rather, ex-boyfriend, Caleb Clarke for a phone interview.”

  “Yeah. He flew with his father to Algeria. His father had a short engineering consulting contract for several weeks,” Elsen said.

  “My partner here, Agent Stacy Brooks,” Caffrey said, everyone nodding at her reintroduction, “has been in contact with our legal attaché in Tunisia, which covers Algeria.”

  “Caleb Clarke did not arrive in Algeria with his father,” Brooks said.

  Forty-Six

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  Elsen stared at the agents, then at McDowell and Holland, then back at the agents.

  “He didn’t arrive? What, did his dad cancel the trip?”

  “No, his father arrived but Caleb didn’t. He never got on the plane,” Brooks said.

  “Where is he?” McDowell asked.

  Brooks looked at her phone. “Here’s what we know from our legal attaché at our embassy in Tunis. He spoke with Algerian authorities; and we also had our Los Angeles office consult with the TSA at LAX and the Algerian embassy in Washington. Caleb was denied boarding because he’d misplaced, or lost, critical travel documents. His father boarded because he was contractually committed and bound to a schedule in the city of Algiers.”

  “He left without him?” Holland said.

  “He had to, but before departure, and on the flight, Caleb’s father managed to make emergency arrangements with the assistance of his contacts at the Algerian embassy and the airline. Approved documents would be reissued and provided for Caleb so he could leave alone the next day,” Brooks said.

  “And?” Elsen said.

  “Caleb was not on the later flight,” Brooks said.

  “Where is he?”

  “Unknown at this point,” Caffrey said.

  “His father had arranged for Caleb to stay in the Hilton, one of the airport hotels, with the understanding he was to board the flight the next day,” Brooks said. “Airport security and the LAPD have Caleb Clarke in their systems but so far he can’t be located.”

  “Was he at the Hilton?” McDowell asked.

  “No,” Brooks said.

  The investigators had begun processing the meaning of the development when Brooks’s phone pinged.

  “That’s Martin Clarke, Caleb’s father in Algiers. We reached out to him and he’ll take a call.” She began tapping numbers. “It’s later there. They’re about eight hours ahead.”

  Brooks turned up the volume and switched to speaker, setting her phone on the table. The line rang several times.

  “Hello?”

  “Martin Clarke?”

  “Yes.”

  “Agent Stacy Brooks in Las Vegas.”

  “Yes, hi.”

  “I’ve got you on speaker with Agent Barry Caffrey, and from Las Vegas police, Lieutenant Moe Holland and detectives Michelle McDowell and Dan Elsen. Sir, have you heard from Caleb?”

  “No, nothing. Once I learned he didn’t get on his plane, I started texting and calling nonstop since I arrived. Have you learned anything?”

  “Not at this time but we’ve got people looking,” Brooks said. “Mr. Clarke, are you aware of the situation here, that your son’s former girlfriend, Riley Jarrett, has been reported missing by her family?”

  “Friends have sent me news stories. It’s terrible. My heart goes out to her family.”

  “Sir, Detective Dan Elsen, Las Vegas Metro. Do you think there could be a possible connection to Caleb missing his flights and Riley being missing?”

  “In what way? I don’t understand.”

  “We’re told that just before she left San Diego with her family she ended her relationship with your son,” Elsen said. “Do you think he may have tried to somehow reunite with her?”

  A static-filled moment passed. “I know he was crushed by their breakup and her moving away. It’s why I thought this trip to Africa would help him,” Clarke said, “but no, she was moving across the country. We’re scheduled to be here for six weeks.”

  “Has Caleb ever done anything like this before, or run off in the past?” Elsen asked.

  “No,” Clarke said. “Nothing like this, ever.”

  “What reason might there be for your son missing his flights?” Elsen asked.

  “Look, I don’t—he was devastated about the breakup. It could be that, but we don’t know—my ex-wife’s texting me. She hasn’t heard from him. He’s not responded to her calls and texts. We’re worried.”

  “Agent Brooks here, sir. In the wake of the situation with Caleb, have you received any communication, any suggestion of a threat or ransom demand concerning your son?”

  “My God, no!” Clarke said, followed by muffled voices at his end. “Why do you ask? Is there something we don’t know? You’re scaring me with these questions.”

  “I’m sorry, but given the nature of your work in that region of the world and the way events have been unfolding here, it’s something we need to know.”

  “Agent Brooks. My son failed to get on a plane. Let’s keep things in perspective. This is not some spy thriller movie.”

  “We have to ask these questions, Mr. Clarke,” Brooks said.

  “The answer is no.”

  “Mr. Clarke, Detective McDowell. Is it possible your son returned to San Diego?”

  “From LA?”

  “Through a ride share or a ride from a friend?”

  “There’s no one home in San Diego. Our house is being managed by a property service for insurance purposes.”

  “Is it possible he could go home by himself, or stay with friends?” McDowell said.

  “I suppose anything’s possible. We could contact them.”

  “Sir,” McDowell said, “could you send us names and contact information for anyone who might know his whereabouts. We’ll get San Diego police to make some checks.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clarke,” Brooks said. “I’m sure this will get cleared up and we’ll see Caleb united with you. We’ll keep you posted. Meantime, if you hear anything please alert us.”

  “Yes, yes. Thank you.”

  The call ended with the investigators assessing matters.

  “That was interesting,” Holland said, then to Brooks: “You mentioned the nature of Clarke’s work in that region, can you elaborate?”

  “His work is at a new semiconductor plant, helping design integrated circuits. His contract is a lucrative one. In the past he’s worked on US defense contracts. We know there are factions interested in acquiring the technological ideas, innovations and intelligence capabilities of the US government. We know organized crime and terror groups have been involved in stealing that information through kidnap-ransom schemes in various regions of the world.”

  “Is that what’s going on here with Clarke?” Holland asked.

  “We have nothing concrete to suggest that,” Brooks said. “Our Counterintelligence Division is investigating that aspect, and we have nothing so far. We’ve confirmed that prior to accepting his contr
act in Algeria, Clarke and his family were vetted by US national security and he was cleared to work there. But this intelligence theft possibility is something that we can’t rule out.”

  Elsen rubbed his chin while looking at photos of Rykhirt on his phone. “This kidnap-ransom scheme and the possibility Caleb abandoned the flight to find Riley are plausible theories. But we have nothing hard that puts Caleb with Riley after her disappearance. We have proof she was in the Sagebrush with Rykhirt, we have her shoe in the desert, his sketch, his record. Everything points to Rykhirt.”

  “Yes,” McDowell said, “but we can’t rule out Caleb Clarke until we locate and question him.”

  Forty-Seven

  Nevada

  Was there any chance they’d still find Riley alive?

  It was the question trapped in Claire Nakamura’s heart, the question no one dared ask aloud among those who’d gathered in the early morning at the Silver Sky Search and Rescue command post in the Sagebrush parking lot.

  The number of volunteers had doubled.

  “An item belonging to Riley Jarrett was discovered yesterday,” Warren Taylor said during his first briefing of the day. “We can draw hope from it.”

  As of that morning, more than one hundred people had now deployed to the site. Wearing ball caps, sunglasses, shorts, T-shirts, fluorescent vests, equipped with backpacks, gear and radios, they listened to Taylor’s updates.

  “Working with Metro’s Missing Persons Detail and the Metro Police SAR unit, we’ll be expanding our effort today and targeting new areas of probability,” said Taylor, incident commander for the volunteer group.

  Teams would be transported on ATVs to outlying areas, following old desert pathways and desert roads, then they would be searched on foot. As well, drones would be used for further searches of outlying areas.

  “The line starts here for your assignments,” Taylor said.

  Taking her place among the others with Dakota and Ashley, Claire’s skin tingled with worry as if she were going to burst.

  “Oh my God,” Dakota whispered to her friends. “I can’t believe they just don’t say what everyone’s thinking.”

  “What?” Ashley asked.

  “Everyone knows they found Ri’s shoe, right?” Dakota said.

  “Yeah,” Ashley said.

  “I heard people saying that the creep likely murdered her and buried her out there, and he probably murdered that other girl last year,” Dakota said.

  “Stop,” Claire said. “We don’t know that’s true.”

  “Well, I heard two guys talking and they said this is not really a search anymore, but a recovery, meaning they’re looking for a body. One of them said he heard they have a body bag ready.”

  “Oh my God, no.” Ashley’s hands flew to her face and she started crying. “No.”

  “Dakota! Stop right now.” Claire put her arm around Ashley. “You’re spreading stupid rumors.”

  “I’m telling you guys what I heard,” Dakota said. “Speaking of that, Claire, you should tell police what you heard Riley’s stepdad saying.”

  Claire didn’t respond.

  Then Ashley, regaining some composure, looked at her. “She’s right. You should, Claire.”

  Weighed down with concern, Claire looked among the crowd until she’d spotted Riley’s stepfather and stepbrother in the distance. They were with Riley’s mom and her friends, talking.

  “I don’t know,” Claire said. “Blake told me not to. He said he would take care of it.”

  “Did he?” Dakota said. “I bet he didn’t. I bet he won’t. He’d want to protect his dad.”

  “What if something’s really going on,” Ashley said, “and no one knows what you heard?”

  “Yeah,” Dakota said. “You said he sounded angry on the phone and thought no one was around to hear, but you said you heard him saying things that sound like they’re related to a ransom. You should tell police, Claire.”

  “What if I did tell and somehow I messed things up?” she said.

  “Claire,” Ashley said. “What if you didn’t and then learned that Riley got killed or something because you kept your mouth shut? You’d have to live with that for the rest of your life.”

  Paralyzed with indecision, Claire’s breathing quickened. “Maybe I should tell my parents first,” she said.

  “No,” Dakota said. “They’d tell Riley’s dad and he’d likely deny it or something. Tell the police. You’ve got to.”

  “I’m so scared.”

  “Claire,” Dakota said, “if you don’t tell, then we will and police will come to you anyway.”

  Claire’s mind raced as Dakota and Ashley scanned the group.

  “Where’s the detective we talked to on the phone, Michelle?” Dakota said.

  “Look.” Ashley nodded toward the police mobile command vehicle where some officers had gathered. “There’s that Lieutenant Jackson. She’s nice. Go to her, tell her in private. She’ll know what to do.”

  Claire looked at the lieutenant. She was nice. “Okay. But you guys walk over there with me.”

  “No.” Dakota was nearly whispering. “You go alone, it’ll be less conspicuous.”

  “But what if someone asks what I’m doing talking to police?”

  “Just say you’re worried, which we are, and you were asking if they had anything new they could tell you, that kinda thing,” Dakota said.

  Claire hesitated until she could summon the courage. She nodded, steeled herself then went to the police command center. When she got there, she waited at the periphery. When the lieutenant finished talking to the officers, she noticed Claire.

  “Can I help you with something?” Lieutenant Jackson had a warm smile.

  “Um.”

  “What is it?”

  Claire let out a breath. “I have something to tell you—to report. It might be important.”

  Blinking and thinking, Jackson said, “You’re one of Riley Jarrett’s friends from San Diego, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Jackson held out her arm, gesturing to a door. “Why don’t you come inside and we’ll talk there.”

  As Claire entered, she looked over her shoulder. Dakota and Ashley nodded their encouragement. Claire glanced beyond them.

  John and Blake were watching her.

  Forty-Eight

  Nevada

  “Come in, John, have a seat,” Lieutenant Shanice Jackson said.

  “What’s this about?”

  It was midmorning. Immediately after listening to what Riley Jarrett’s friend Claire had told her, Jackson had contacted McDowell and Elsen, alerting them to new information that needed pursuing. Jackson had related much of what she knew over the phone as the detectives made their way to the Silver Sagebrush. Then she’d requested John Marshall come to the mobile command center.

  Now, sitting inside, John looked to the far end of the vehicle, to the officers coordinating search efforts at their workstations amid the soft radio cross talk, the pinging of notifications on laptops and phones. Jackson read the dread written in John’s eyes, as if he was bracing for the worst news a father could hear.

  “Did you find something?” he asked.

  “No, I’m sorry, it’s nothing like that.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “We need to follow up on some information.”

  “What information?”

  “Let’s wait for the detectives to arrive. Shouldn’t be long,” Jackson said. “Can I get you anything, John, water, coffee?”

  He declined and Jackson moved off to work quietly with the officers, leaving him alone. John sorted his thoughts, uncertain if making him wait was a police tactic. Drawing his hand over his unshaven face, he glimpsed a scene through the door window.

  Outside, he saw Elsen and McDowell next to their parked
sedan, talking to Claire Nakamura with her parents. The detectives were taking notes, listening, nodding. Realization was dawning on John, but he was interrupted when his phone rang.

  It was Cynthia Litchfield, his new boss in Pittsburgh.

  He stared at the phone as it rang. This was her first call since Riley’s disappearance. He hadn’t informed her of what had happened. She must’ve seen the news, the media reports. It rang again. John swallowed.

  Jackson turned to him. “Why don’t you answer it?”

  “It’s a colleague, job related.” John silenced the call. “This isn’t a good time. I’ll call back later.”

  John watched the call go to his voice mail, looked up to Jackson holding him in her focus for a moment before she nodded to the door, which had opened.

  Elsen and McDowell were ready for him.

  * * *

  The detectives didn’t enter the command center. They stood outside under the shade of the extended canopy.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting, John,” McDowell said.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Let’s talk out here,” Elsen said.

  John stepped outside and Jackson ensured they were left alone, posting an officer to keep others away, giving them privacy in the shade.

  “Last time we spoke, you told us to be ready to face the worst,” John said. “What is it?”

  “We’re following up, John,” Elsen said. “Have you told us everything we should know?”

  John saw that he was recording their conversation on his phone. “I don’t know what you’re asking,” he said. “Get to the point.”

  “John,” Elsen said. “We can get a judge to give us access to your phone and digital communication, but it would be better if you cooperated with us.”

  John seethed. “We’ve done nothing but cooperate!”

  “Are you being extorted? Is someone holding Riley for ransom?” Elsen said.

  “No! What’s going on? I thought you—with all the news stories—that Rykhirt was your suspect. What’s this?”

  “John, you have to tell us if you’re being extorted,” McDowell said. “Is this connected to the drug issue with the RV?”