by Rick Mofina
“Thank you, Cynthia.”
John ended the call, clenched his eyes shut, convinced he’d detected an undercurrent of skepticism in Litchfield’s tone. His gut telling him that his new job was hanging by a thread.
* * *
Grace gazed out the window at jets taxiing, landing and lifting off.
Clutching her phone, she looked at her favorite pictures of Riley, praying that she had run off with Caleb.
I can deal with that because she’d be alive.
Then she began scrolling through the news stories she’d saved about Rykhirt, stopped and looked away.
If he killed her and buried her in the desert, I’ll never forgive myself.
Grace prayed for McDowell or Elsen to call and end her nightmare. Glancing at John and Blake, she chided herself for her suspicions that they’d been secretive, for not realizing that this crisis had ripped open the wounds of their tragedy.
The light diffused.
“Grace?” Sherry stood before her, purse and a small bag over her shoulder. “I’m going to San Diego with you.”
Grace leaped up and threw open her arms, hugging her as John and Blake stood near them in surprise.
“You didn’t have to do this. You’ve already done so much,” Grace said, wiping the corners of her eyes.
“What about your aunt in Salt Lake?” John said.
“I checked with my uncle. There’s no change. He’s been watching the news—he knows what’s happening. He urged me to keep helping. He said that I’m only a flight away from Salt Lake. I want to be with you.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Grace said.
“Listen, my car’s at the airport in San Diego. When we land, I can drive you wherever you need to go. It’s the fastest way.”
“Thank you, Sherry,” John said. “Let us reimburse you for your flight.”
“Don’t even think about it. I wanted to be with you when you find Riley, and you’re going to find her.”
Grace took hold of Sherry’s hand and studied her face.
“I wouldn’t have survived this long without you,” Grace said. “Having you with us means the world to me.”
At that moment the public address system called the preboarding announcement for their flight.
Fifty-Seven
Nevada / California
The landing gear rumbled up, tucking into the belly of the Airbus A320 as it lifted off from McCarran with John gripping Grace’s hand.
The jetliner climbed over Las Vegas. He scanned the mountains and the desert below. He thought he’d spotted Lake Mead, Hoover Dam, maybe the Grand Canyon in the distance and then the Mojave. Grace gave his hand a squeeze. He smiled at her and said: “Just hold on.”
Hold on.
That’s what he’d told Lana and Courtney. They never wanted to go sailing that day. He made them go, assuring them it would be fine. Just like he knew Grace, and certainly Riley, never wanted to leave San Diego.
John’s jaw tightened remembering the months after his wife and daughter died. After the autopsies, the questions, after strangers combing through their personal lives. “It’s required,” the insurance people said, “to establish the circumstances of their deaths, sir.”
Then one afternoon it all ended when a sober-faced insurance agent placed a check on his kitchen table. As the agent explained the accidental death benefit in the policies, and the boat, John stared at the check.
It was an astounding amount of money. But it never silenced their screams or...
...the wild wind... “Hold on!” Waves curling...swallowing Lana...foaming crests...taking Courtney into the darkness...the terror in her last words... HELP ME, DAD!
He fought so hard to save them. They could’ve all made it if they could’ve just held on.
Then it became John’s turn to hold on. He went through the motions of living while he and Blake received counseling. John stumbled in his private darkness trying to find a way to go on. Then he found Grace and together they found the light again.
But secretly, as he’d done on that day he went sailing knowing but never accepting that a storm was possible, John began taking risks; huge risks that Grace didn’t know about. That nobody knew about. Before long it got out of control; things began disintegrating, forcing John to take even greater risks without Grace knowing the truth.
Now they had to leave San Diego because of what he’d done. Pittsburgh was another risk, but it was their lifeline. They had to find Riley or it would all fall apart and they’d lose everything.
What if we don’t find her? Will I bury another daughter?
Cash another check?
Is that what I’ve become?
Fifty-Eight
Nevada / California
Crushing John’s hand, Grace prayed with all of her heart that Riley was in San Diego. Will I hold her in my arms today? Will I ever hold her again?
The flight would take less than an hour, but it might as well be an eternity.
Grace looked at her hand in John’s. Hold on, he’d said. But she didn’t know how much longer she could endure not knowing if Riley was alive, or if Rykhirt—No she couldn’t think about that.
Stay positive. Have faith. Be thankful.
And she was thankful, for the searchers, their friends, Norm, the volunteers, everyone coming to Nevada. She didn’t deserve their kindness.
She was thankful for Sherry and Jazmin, rushing to her side with all they’d been through over the years. Without them she couldn’t go on.
She looked toward Blake in the seat in front, then to Sherry sitting across the aisle a couple of rows ahead, thinking how fortunate she was that Sherry came into her life when she did, because in the wake of Tim’s death Grace was fighting to survive on every level.
Losing Tim had brought her world to a stop while the rest of the world continued turning with indifference. They hadn’t been good managing their money. Even with Tim’s higher salary, the cold fact was they had been living beyond their means. That left Grace facing huge bills for renovations to the house, the installation of the new pool, landscaping, loans, medical and dental bills, payments for vacations, the two cars, credit cards, an IRS bill for a tax screwup and Tim’s funeral. Even with Tim’s insurance and benefits, Grace was struggling.
Jazmin and Miguel had offered her money but she couldn’t take it, for all sorts of reasons. And another bank loan was out of the question for her.
Grace’s situation forced her to make financial adjustments and go back to full-time, round-the-clock nursing shifts. But she vowed not to make Riley a latchkey kid, coming home to an empty house while still mourning her dad.
Again Jazmin offered to help but she had her hands full with her family, and Grace knew that things between Jazmin and Miguel were strained. Grace knew in her heart she couldn’t go to her.
She searched for a nanny—one she could afford—but it didn’t go well. After one week, the first one showed up intoxicated, the second stole Grace’s jewelry, the third couldn’t complete a sentence without swearing and criticizing Grace. All this was happening while Grace had not gotten control of her finances. She sat up nights aching, sobbing for Tim and weighing selling their home, their dream home, the only home Riley had known.
This was when Sherry, who’d had her fill of Chicago winters, transferred to San Diego. She worked from home writing company reports so may as well do it from a warmer climate, possibly even on a beach. One day she had coffee with Grace to see how she was doing and Grace, trying to make light of it, revealed her challenge finding a nanny.
Sherry offered to help because she didn’t know many people in San Diego.
“I was a nanny in college. I’d be happy to do it for free. It would get me out of my place. Besides, I can work anywhere.”
After some coaxing, Grace accepted and depending on schedules, Sherry w
ould come to the house for a few hours when Riley came home from school. Or Sherry would stay overnight, helping with breakfast or dinner, a few chores and appointments. Riley loved her. “She’s like a cool big sister,” she’d say. And Grace, seeing that she was good for Riley, loved her, too. Sometimes they’d visit Sherry when she moved from her apartment into her new town house in Mission Valley. It wasn’t far and it had the best places to shop.
As the jet’s engines droned, Grace pushed back her tears, thinking how Sherry held a special place in her heart for all she’d done for her and Riley. It was largely because of Sherry that Grace was able to keep the house.
Then one night, Sherry, who was a few years younger than Grace, told her that she’d been engaged to a law student in Chicago. But when they’d learned that it was unlikely that Sherry could have children, he left her.
“I’ve learned that in this life people make promises they can’t keep, and that no matter how long it takes you have to find a way to not let it destroy you,” Sherry said.
It broke Grace’s heart and she grew protective of her.
Some two years after Tim’s death, Jazmin and Sherry encouraged her to date again.
“You’re a beautiful woman with a lot to offer,” Sherry said.
“You could test the waters,” Jazmin said. “You’ll know when it’s right.”
The truth was, Grace was lonely but nervous and conflicted about her guilt over Tim’s death as Sherry introduced her to online dating sites where eventually she helped her find John Marshall.
“Look at this guy. He checks all the boxes, and he’s handsome, too. It wouldn’t hurt to have coffee with him.”
Despite being terrified of dating again, she had coffee with John. Then they made a date for another coffee, then a date for dinner. Grace found John understanding and compassionate because he’d also suffered a tragedy. Over time they fell in love and got married, creating a new blended family, moving into Grace’s house with Sherry remaining a part of their lives.
“You’re so blessed to have two great loves in your life,” Sherry told Grace at her wedding.
Now, looking at the rows ahead in the jet at Sherry’s shoulder, Grace drew strength from having her near, helping her in the most difficult times of her life. Like this one.
Grace clasped John’s hand, clinging to hope as the plane’s public address crackled.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you could make your way back to your seats, we’ll be starting our descent into San Diego. Please secure your carry-on items, stow your tray table...”
At that moment an older man came down the aisle, returning from the bathroom. His foot somehow hooked the strap of Sherry’s bag, sending it down the aisle toward Grace, spilling its contents over the floor.
The plane then hit some rough air and the man almost lost his balance, bending to recover the bag and contents with Sherry standing behind him.
“I’ll get it, sir,” Grace said, unbuckling her seat belt. “It’s my friend’s. Go to your seat, it’s okay.”
“Sorry,” the man said.
Collecting Sherry’s wallet and hairbrush, Grace noticed the glint of a chain half out of the bag. She picked it up, studying it in her palm.
A bracelet with double gold chains, one with a small half-moon charm and the other half filled with star charms that came together.
The small hairs at the back of her neck stood up.
Grace turned to Sherry. “Why do you have Riley’s new bracelet?”
Sherry smiled, reaching down for her bag. “It’s mine.”
“But you gave Riley this bracelet as a gift at the party. She was wearing it when we were in the RV.”
Sherry put her hand on Grace’s shoulder. “Didn’t she tell you? I got one, too.”
“What?”
“Here.” Sherry got her phone, swiped through photos to a selfie of her and Riley at the party, wrists up, each showing their moon and stars bracelet. “See?” Sherry showed Grace the picture. “I got one, too. I told her that we’d always be friends.”
“Ladies, please return to your seats,” an attendant told them.
Grace stared at Sherry until she understood, nodded and smiled.
At that moment, Blake turned to look at Grace then Sherry. “Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes,” Grace said.
“Please return to your seats now,” the attendant said. “Fasten your seat belts. We’re preparing to land.”
Fifty-Nine
San Diego, California
Blake heard the hydraulic groan of the landing gear dropping and locking. Greater San Diego grew closer until his stomach lifted and they touched down smoothly. As the jet trundled to their gate, his thoughts pinballed. Why did Sherry have to come? Does she know something? Why did the detectives really need a list of people who were at the party? Will they talk to my friends in San Diego?
He glanced out the window at the city, fear twisting his gut.
Sixty
San Diego, California
The girl enters the Mobil station store wearing large sunglasses. Images of her shift in jump cuts as she walks to the dairy case where she adjusts her glasses to the top of her head before replacing them, then selects other items. Her shoes are fluorescent pink. She drops an item. The customer behind her retrieves it. She pays with cash, leaves, gets into a late-model blue Ford Explorer driven by a male. Traffic at the station is heavy. The Ford’s plate is obscured.
“Want me to run it again?” said Detective Emery Moore, with San Diego’s Juvenile Missing Persons Unit.
“Please,” McDowell said.
Upon landing and getting a rental car, McDowell and Elsen had gone straight to San Diego police headquarters on Broadway and met Moore. He took them up to a third-floor room where they were joined by FBI Special Agent Laurie Price from the San Diego field office. They began by studying the gas station video. It was challenging. The girl looked like Riley, but the sunglasses hid much of her face. The SUV was a Ford Explorer. The plate contained the letter G, like the plate on the Clarke’s missing Explorer.
Now, after replaying the footage, the sequence finished.
“The footage doesn’t give us the full plate,” Moore said. “We haven’t yet confirmed this is Riley Jarrett and Caleb Clarke, but this video and your information makes it a near certainty.”
“The shoes,” Price said. “You found one of Riley’s sneakers in Nevada, and in the video the girl appears to be wearing new sneakers.”
Elsen looked at his notes: “And according to the tipster, the girl was anxious, as if she didn’t want to be seen.”
“Since Riley and Caleb were reported missing,” Moore said, “they’ve not used social media and there’s been no activity on any bank accounts or credit cards.”
“Have you considered a new Amber now that Caleb and the missing SUV are in the mix?” McDowell said.
“The key factors aren’t there for us,” Moore said. “Was Riley abducted, or taken against her will? Is she in danger?”
“We don’t know for certain,” Elsen said. “There’s her shoe.”
“Yes, but that’s not enough to meet our criteria for an Amber,” Moore said. “Both were reported as missing juveniles, and your latest information from her phone points to her being a runaway. If that plays out, then you charge Caleb with contributing to delinquency of a minor.”
“But we need to get the word out here,” McDowell said.
“Oh, it’s out. We’ll find the SUV,” Moore said. “Local press is reporting on the case. We’ve got BOLOs everywhere, all the counties, California Highway Patrol, toll roads with plate readers, all ports of entry and border people. We’ve updated all our social media.”
“And we’ve updated everything,” Price said. “The National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, NCIC, other state and federal agencies,
with the latest info and photos.”
“Good,” McDowell said.
“One more thing,” Price said. “If it’s working, we’ll try to track the SUV through its onboard GPS system.”
“What about Caleb’s phone?” McDowell asked.
“We’ve got nothing on his phone so far,” Price said. “He might’ve disabled or tossed it.”
“And background history?” Elsen said.
“We followed up on local checks for you on both kids,” Moore said. “We ran them through ARJIS, our Automated Regional Justice Information System. If they were ever a victim, a witness or a suspect in a crime, they’d be in there.”
“And?” Elsen said.
“Negative,” Moore said. “We also ran the parents’ background history. Nothing but the speeding ticket for John Marshall. Nothing with Child Protective Services. No calls, no previous history of running away.”
“And,” Price said, “the FBI’s still working on the possibility of a kidnap scheme linked to Caleb’s father’s work overseas.”
“Anything there?” McDowell said.
“Not yet, but let’s back it up a bit,” Price said. “We understand you were looking hard at a convicted sex offender, Frayer Ront Rykhirt from Riverside for this, that you had evidence pointing to him.”
“Strong evidence. We haven’t ruled him out,” Elsen said. “But this new San Diego lead, coupled with the other intel, is strong and live. So we’re moving on it.”
Price nodded, then asked: “What about the drug angle? You know the volume of narcotics coming up through Mexico then through here at the border is just wild. And if someone loses a shipment, it’s common for a family member to be taken and held for ransom to replace the monetary value of the drugs.”
“Yeah, we know,” Elsen said.
“It’s also common,” Price said, “for the family, out of fear, to never disclose this.”
“Yes,” Elsen said.