A Scarlet Cord

by Deborah Raney

  “I’m afraid not. They’ve been searching for two hours now, and … nothing. Is Don there?”

  “Of course. Just a minute, I’ll get him.”

  Pastor Steele seemed anxious and upset after talking to Jerry. Darlene watched him pace the hallway in front of his office. He was short with her, and he jumped a foot in the air every time the phone rang.

  As concerned as Darlene was about Jerica, the grim news was overshadowed by the thing that had weighed heavily on her mind long before she’d walked into the office this morning—the thing that had weighed her down for months on end.

  Today had been the day that she was finally going to talk to Don. This situation with little Jerica changed things. Maybe this made it even more crucial that she tell Don what she should have told him months ago. She knew he was preoccupied with concern for the LaSalles. But she wasn’t sure she could bear the weight of her burden another minute.

  With knees threatening to buckle beneath her, she rose from the desk and went to knock softly on the door that separated her office from Pastor Steele’s.

  The strobing lights of the patrol car parked outside the Masons’ home strafed the family room walls in rhythmic revolutions, piercing Melanie with a stark reminder that Jerica was gone. She and Karly and the boys had answered the two young policemen’s questions until she didn’t think the officers could possibly come up with one more question to ask.

  Matthew had received Karly’s frantic message and had taken the first bus home. Now he sat in his big leather recliner by the fireplace and patiently answered Sergeant Riordan’s questions even when Riordan and his partner, Officer Marcus Pilsen, interrogated him as though they suspected he had kidnapped Jerica himself.

  Finally Pilsen stood and shook Matthew’s hand. “I think that’s all I need right now.”

  “Thank you, officer. Will it be okay if my wife and I go join in the search around the neighborhood?” People from all over their housing development had been looking for Jerica since before the police arrived.

  “Sure, that would be good. Do you have a cell phone where we can reach you if we need to?”

  Matt patted his breast pocket. “Yes. Melanie has the number.”

  “No!” Melanie jumped up from the edge of the chair she’d been perched on. “I want to go too, Matt. I want to help look for her. Maybe she’ll answer my voice.” Melanie kept her eyes on the officer.

  Marcus Pilsen shook his head. “I think it would be best if you stay. Your daughter may come back home, and if she does it would be best if you were here. And someone needs to stay and field any phone calls. If the girl calls here, it needs to be a familiar voice that answers that phone.”

  It had now been more than five hours since anyone had seen Jerica, and with each passing second Melanie’s fears ballooned. She knew everyone’s chief concern was finding Jerica before the sun went down. New Jersey nights were still frigid, and after dark the dangers grew exponentially.

  Sergeant Riordan gave Melanie detailed information about how the search would be handled throughout the day. “We’ll be in contact with you at least every hour to update you,” the sergeant said, moving toward the door.

  Melanie felt the panic mount at the thought of being left alone in the house again. But she walked the two men to the front door. They were halfway down the steps when Riordan’s pager sounded. He motioned for his partner to remain with Melanie and walked out to the driveway to answer the page. Melanie watched him carefully, and her heart quickened when she saw him turn and start back up the drive. He was actually smiling.

  “Looks like your little girl’s been found, Mrs. LaSalle,” he said. “Sounds like she’s fine.”

  Melanie’s knees buckled, and she slumped down on the front porch steps.

  Officer Pilsen rushed to sit down beside her. “Are you okay?”

  Barely able to speak, she held up a hand. “I’m okay,” she finally managed to choke out. “I … just want to see my daughter.”

  “Of course,” Sergeant Riordan assured her. “Apparently an elderly couple saw her walking near the Marta Vista County Park. They’re staying with her until the police arrive. We’ll probably want to take her to a hospital”—he held up a hand at Melanie’s gasp—“just as a precaution … to check things out. It sounds like she’s in fine shape.”

  He let out a kind chuckle and shook his head in apparent amazement. “I’ll bet she’s exhausted, though. That park is up in the foothills of the Ramapo Mountains. It’s almost three miles from here.”

  Thirty-One

  The ride to the park seemed an eternity. Melanie wept silently, gratefully, in the backseat of the police cruiser, watching the terrain as they drove, imagining her daughter trudging along the sidewalks and roadsides they passed. The thought of Jerica walking such a distance all alone sent chills up Melanie’s spine. And the knowledge that she’d done it for Melanie’s sake—to find Joel for her—nearly broke her heart. It was a miracle Jerica hadn’t been hit by a car or picked up by someone with sinister intentions.

  She’d left a note for Matthew and Karly, and now she gripped her cell phone and punched in Matt’s number, anxious to relay the wonderful news. Busy. He was probably trying to call her.

  “We’re almost there, Mrs. LaSalle,” Sergeant Riordan said over his shoulder.

  Her excitement rose as the signs that marked the entrance to Marta Vista County Park came into view. But a new twinge of alarm surged through her veins when she saw the emergency vehicles in the parking area—an ambulance, two police cruisers, and what appeared to be a park ranger’s vehicle. Bright red, white, and blue lights flashed over the scene. A few civilian vehicles were leaving the park slowly, drivers and passengers craning their necks toward all the activity.

  Melanie watched the two policemen’s faces, and she could see that they, too, were concerned. “What’s wrong?” she asked, trying—and failing—to keep her voice steady. “What’s happening?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sergeant Riordan said. “Stay here,” he told Pilsen, then looked at Melanie. “Sit tight a minute. I’ll see what’s going on.”

  He scrambled out of the car and jogged to where two other officers stood with their backs to Melanie. One of them stepped aside briefly, and she could see that they were talking to an elderly woman who sat alone on the bench of a picnic table. The woman was too far away for Melanie to get a good look at her face, but by her bent posture Melanie guessed that she was in distress.

  Melanie was trying to figure out how to open her car door when Sergeant Riordan loomed outside her window. Pilsen reached to the driver’s side and pushed a button. Melanie’s window rolled down a few inches.

  Riordan put his arms on the side of the car and leaned to speak to her through the window. “Mrs. LaSalle,” he said calmly, “I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but it seems your daughter’s run off again.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Riordan motioned toward the woman on the bench. “The old woman and her husband are the ones who found your daughter. According to her, the little girl was sitting calmly between them, and they were reassuring her that we were on our way. All of a sudden, she just jumped up and ran off again.”

  He pointed toward a wide sidewalk that disappeared into a hilly, wooded area. “She went into the woods. The woman’s husband went in after her, but I guess he doesn’t get around too well. That was”—he glanced at his watch—“probably ten minutes ago. The park is under the jurisdiction of the sheriff’s department. They have a command center set up over there.” He inclined his head toward the group of emergency vehicles. “They’ve already got some citizens and park personnel searching for Jerica and the old man. I’m sure they’ll find them in no time.”

  Melanie looked toward the wooded area beyond. “What … What’s in there?”

  “Hiking trails. It’s rocky, but nothing too treacherous, although there are a couple of bridges that—” He seemed to think better of whatever it was he’d started to
say and tilted his head toward the clear sky. “We can be thankful it’s still daylight and the weather’s good.”

  Melanie’s stomach twisted. “Can I go look for her? Maybe if she hears my voice …”

  “Possibly. In a few minutes. I want you to talk to the woman first. Maybe she can give us a better idea of which way she went and what her state of mind was.”

  Melanie nodded numbly. Sergeant Riordan opened her car door. Melanie scrambled out and followed him across the parking lot.

  As they got closer, Melanie noticed that the grey-haired woman appeared to be much older than she’d first guessed. The woman sitting beside her wore a badge that said BERGEN COUNTY SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. She stood and walked toward the approaching pair, and Sergeant Riordan introduced Melanie to Lieutenant Shawna Kiley.

  “Hello, Mrs. LaSalle,” Lieutenant Kiley said, putting a comforting hand on Melanie’s arm. “I’m sure your daughter is going to be fine. We’re doing every—”

  “Did you see her?” Melanie asked, clutching at the young woman’s hand. “Was she okay?”

  “No, ma’am, I didn’t see her. We didn’t get called out until she’d already run off. I’m sorry. But Mrs. Phelps here”—she indicated the elderly woman—“said the little girl didn’t seem to be injured or sick. Just a little dirty and agitated. Oh—” The lieutenant dug in her pocket and held out a small plastic bag. “Someone found this on the walk. Is it hers?”

  Melanie reached out and took in a sharp breath when she saw the orange ribbon coiled inside the bag. She’d tied the ribbon into Jerica’s pigtail last night. It gave her hope somehow. At least it proved that it was Jerica the elderly couple had seen. “Yes. It’s Jerica’s. She was wearing it in her hair.”

  “Okay. Good. I’d like to have you talk with Mrs. Phelps. Maybe you’ll pick up on something that we didn’t. Something she said to them that might help us.”

  “What did she say? What did she tell them?” Melanie was desperate for any piece of information about her daughter, any morsel to assure her that Jerica was unharmed.

  Melanie hadn’t realized how hard she’d been squeezing the young woman’s hands until Lieutenant Kiley pried herself from her grasp. The lieutenant took her elbow and steered her to where Mrs. Phelps sat. “She’s very hard of hearing,” she told Melanie quietly. “You’ll have to really speak up.”

  Melanie nodded and held out her hand to the elderly woman. “Hello, Mrs. Phelps.”

  The woman nodded an acknowledgement, but did not speak.

  Lieutenant Kiley stepped in. “Mrs. Phelps,” she shouted, “this is the little girl’s mother.”

  “Oh, of course, I can see the resemblance,” the woman said in the slow, quavering voice age had bestowed on her. She wiped at a rheumy eye. “Me and Mac just finished a little picnic, and we saw her walking all by herself. Came up that road right over there.” She pointed an arthritic finger toward the main entrance to the park. “Your little girl was just as sweet as she could be. We could tell she was lost so we asked her where her folks were. She said she was looking for her daddy. We told her we’d help her find him, but while Mac was lookin’ for the ranger, she said, ‘I gotta go find my daddy.’ Then she ran off again.”

  Melanie’s heart lurched.

  “Mac—my husband—tried to catch her,” Mrs. Phelps said, “but she was just too fast for him. My goodness, I’ve never seen a little girl run so fast in my life.”

  Lieutenant Kiley turned to Melanie. “Is the girl’s father on the way?” By the way she said it, Melanie could tell she’d already been informed that she was a single mom.

  “She … Her father is dead. But … I know who she’s looking for.”

  Sergeant Riordan stepped closer, took Jerica’s note from his pocket, and handed it to Lieutenant Kiley. “She left this for her mother to find. I’ve already made the other officers aware of it.”

  Riordan excused himself and walked toward the command center while Lieutenant Kiley studied the note in her hand. She looked to Melanie. “Who’s ‘Jole’?”

  “It’s Joel. We were engaged,” she explained as simply and truthfully as she knew how without going into the details. “He … called the wedding off, but Jerica called him Daddy.”

  “Have you contacted him?”

  “No. I … I don’t know where he is.”

  “Any idea why she’d think she could find her dad—er, find this guy in there?”

  Melanie shook her head grimly. Why on earth did Jerica think Joel would be here? Had she just gone out the Masons’ front door and started walking up and down streets?

  The thought slammed into her like a punch in the stomach. Melanie gasped. The words echoed the very thing she’d spoken to Karly this morning, just before they’d discovered Jerica standing there—listening. Sometimes I just want to walk out that door and go up and down streets until I find Joel again. That was what she’d told Karly.

  “Are you all right?” Lieutenant Kiley bent slightly to peer into Melanie’s face.

  “Please,” Melanie choked out suddenly, clenching her fists at her sides. “We’re wasting time. Can I go look now? She’ll know my voice.”

  There was sympathy in Lieutenant Kiley’s voice. “I don’t think it’ll take them long to find her. There’s five or six miles of trails in the park, but they cross back on each other, and it’s pretty well self-contained.”

  “Please,” Melanie pleaded.

  The lieutenant looked at her watch. “Ms. LaSalle, when they bring her out, we’ll most likely want to get her to a hospital just to have her checked over. We don’t want to have to come in looking for you. It’s best if you stay near the command center so we can reach you the minute they find her. We’ve got plenty of time before the sun goes down. I don’t think you have anything to worry about. There’s a good team already searching, and lots of volunteers besides.”

  She looked at Melanie with deep compassion in her eyes. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, putting a hand on Melanie’s shoulder. “Let’s go talk to my captain … and Sergeant Riordan. We’ll see what they think about your going in.”

  The young lieutenant turned away from Margaret Phelps and made her voice a whisper. “To tell you the truth, I’m more worried about Mrs. Phelps’s husband right now.”

  Melanie felt guilty that the simple statement comforted her as it did.

  Matthew Mason’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the knot of emergency vehicles gathered at Marta Vista County Park. Surely they wouldn’t all be here unless something terrible had happened.

  He pulled into a parking space and jumped from the car. Spotting Officer Riordan and Melanie, he raced across the paved road toward them.

  “Matt!” Melanie ran to meet him and fell against him.

  “What’s going on?”

  Melanie’s face was drained of color. “Oh, Matt, they still haven’t found her!”

  “What? But … I thought someone had found her … here at the park.”

  “They did. Over there.” Melanie pointed to an elderly couple sitting under a picnic shelter. “But Jerica ran away from them. She told them she had to … find her daddy. The man went in to look for her, but—Oh, Matt … look at him. He can hardly walk. They ended up having to send people in after him.”

  Matthew followed her gaze to where ambulance personnel were working with an elderly man. He was sitting upright and seemed to be talking to them.

  “But they’re still looking for Jerica?”

  “Yes. Twenty people or so are in there looking—mostly people who were here at the park and offered to help with the search. Why aren’t they finding her, Matt? It’s been almost an hour. Where could she be? Something must have happened. And they don’t want me to go in … in case they find Jerica. They want me to be here.”

  “I’ve hiked those trails before. I’m going in. Maybe she’ll answer my voice. What made her come here?”

  Melanie started crying again. “I think she overheard me tell Karly that … sometimes I just wante
d to walk up and down the streets until I found Joel. I think she just started walking and … ended up here …”

  He could hear the near-hysteria in his sister’s voice. He grasped her shoulder, trying to convey a strength he didn’t feel. “We’ll find her, Mel. Don’t worry … We’ll find her.”

  Sprinting toward the trailhead, he began to climb the stone stairs cut into the side of the rocky crag. He’d forgotten how quickly the elevation rose. He was winded within five minutes. A sheriff’s deputy met him at the place where the trails divided. “You here to help with the search, sir?”

  “Yes. I’m Jerica’s uncle.”

  “Okay. Good.” He pointed to a sign that mapped out the four different paths that wound through the acreage at the base of the Ramapo Mountains. “We’ve got people on every trail already. Probably not as many on this northwest one. These trails cross over each other at several junctures. These two”—he pointed to two short marks on the map—“are easy, half-mile treks. These others are two- and three-mile hikes, a little more advanced. Of course, that probably didn’t mean anything to the little girl. Kids usually climb upward when they’re lost—it tends to be warmer the higher they go, and they’re looking for light, so they go up.”

  Matt nodded, grateful for some advice.

  “Call her name,” the deputy continued, “she might recognize your voice. But don’t forget to listen, too. If she’s hurt she might not be able to make herself heard.”

  “Thanks,” Matt told him. He started up the trail, trying to think the way Jerica might have. This two-mile trail seemed a continuation of the path that led to the trailheads. She would have stayed on the path, wouldn’t she? Yes, he decided, if Melanie was right about what Jerica had overheard her saying.

  He walked slowly, looking from side to side as he went, keeping his eyes peeled for a flash of orange and his ears tuned for any sound at all. He could hear the faint cries of the other searchers calling out Jerica’s name. The voices bounced off one another and echoed through the woods, making it hard to determine where each sound had originated.