The police pieced together that Elizabeth had hopped the casino shuttle bus after her work shift and rode it as far as Germantown. She had gotten off at the Shell on Exit 16, bought a map and a drink, then checked in at the Wingate. After she left there, it was anyone’s guess where Elizabeth might have gone. Interviews at the bus stations and cab offices came up empty-handed. Wherever Elizabeth was, she had either walked, hitched, or been forced to go there. She had not used any other form of public transport. Her parents were comforted only in the knowledge that Beth was probably alive and on the run, and most likely still in the Memphis area. The police questioned the employees at the Waffle House, thinking Elizabeth ate breakfast there or at the hotel, but none of the employees could remember.
“Honey, this place stays full on the weekends. Old people, young people, black people, white people...who can keep track of them all. I just try to get my shift done and get home and soak my tired bunions. I can’t help you,” the waitress glibly answered. The cook was just as helpful.
“Hey, my back’s to the crowd all day. I work for a living.”
Elizabeth’s parents had even made a trip down to Memphis to hand out fliers and put them on cars at the mall. They showed her picture to countless shoppers. They plastered her picture at the bus terminal and the cab stations, and all the public attractions, including the Memphis Zoo. The King Tut exhibit had been closed due to the investigation surrounding the robbery. But they scoured the ballpark, Graceland, and a host of other tourist spots, just in case anyone had seen their daughter. John and Carolyn returned to Jackson distraught and emotionally drained. All they could do now is pray for news.
West Jackson Baptist Church held a candlelit vigil for Elizabeth, and over 300 students attended. Teachers and friends alike poured into the Merriweather home to comfort and help with the daily tasks. Carolyn had been in a constant state of turmoil. Ladies from the church brought casseroles and made coffee. The men took up an offering from all the Sunday School groups, the choir, the missions groups, every department in the church gave to help pay the Merriweather’s expenses while they took time off from work to devote to their daughter’s search. A gospel singing was held at The Old Country Store to raise money and awareness for the missing teen. It was a given in the rural South that when your neighbor was in trouble, you were there to help out in any way you could. It was one of the reasons John never considered moving up north. The Hub City was known for making newcomers feel welcomed and loved. He just could not imagine why his daughter would want to leave.
It was mid-April when the officer rang the bell and asked to speak to both John and Carolyn. John trembled as he led the officer in to the living room. The look on the officer’s face was not one of joy. It was somber and foreshadowed bad news.
“What is it officer? You’ve found her.” John questioned. Carolyn joined her husband on the sofa and gripped his hand tightly.
“No, we haven’t found her. But we have found something. A fisherman snagged Elizabeth’s backpack on his fishing line. He drew it out of the Tennessee River near Decaturville. Her wallet and cell phone were inside, along with a heavy brick.”
Carolyn gasped. John’s eyes narrowed.
“But what does that mean? That’s nowhere near Memphis. You mean the Mississippi River?”
“No sir. It was the Tennessee River. We aren’t sure at this point what that indicates. I think you must prepare yourself. The backpack being weighted is not a good indication. It could have been used to weight her body.” At this comment, Carolyn let out a low, guttural moan of grief.
“No. My baby…no, God, please no.”
John held his wife as she sobbed on his shoulder. He patted her back. He ran his fingers through her hair and tried to soothe the ache within her. Yet, his gut was telling him that Beth was gone. Someone had hurt her.
“There’s something else I think you should know. Inside the zipper pocket of the backpack was a used pregnancy test. It was positive. We think Elizabeth may have committed suicide by jumping from one of river bridges. There is also the possibility that this is a homicide. We are going to bring in the boyfriend for questioning.”
New moans of grief racked the couple’s bodies, their horror and disbelief played out in painful detail on their faces.
“Pregnant? Our daughter is pregnant? John, how could she not tell us?” Carolyn began.
“That boy got our daughter pregnant. You think he murdered her?” John asked incredulously. “He might be a rounder, but…I mean… murder? I’m going to the police station. I’ll get the truth out of him if I have to beat it out of him.”
“Mr. Merriweather, we prefer you stay here and wait for word from us. We have divers at the site where the backpack was found. If Elizabeth turns up, you will want to be here with your wife. Let us handle the investigation, sir, please.”
John swallowed his anger and managed to find his voice, although by this time the vein in his forehead was bulging, and his jaw was tightly clenched.
“Thank you for the information, officer. Please call us as soon as you find her.”
Jackson’s finest made his farewells and retreated to his police car to radio his whereabouts and where he was headed. John and Carolyn stood in the doorway and cried. Carolyn nuzzled underneath his John’s arm like a fragile baby bird awaiting nourishment, awaiting hope, awaiting anything that would bring her daughter and grandchild back alive.
The scene down by the river earlier that morning had drawn a crowd. There was never much excitement in the sleepy little town of Decaturville. Word was out that the river was being searched for a body, a missing runaway. Naturally, folks came to see what they could see. Divers would come up at intervals with odd items such as a pair of sunglasses or an odd flip-flop. Each would be tagged as possible evidence to be shown to the family. Every time a diver would surface the crowd would buzz, wondering if the next item brought up would be the missing girl. The recent media coverage about a pregnant lady missing in California fueled their conversation and thirst for more of the drama that was unfolding before them. This could be a copycat murder. The runaway was pregnant too. A special TBI team with fancy sonographic equipment had arrived to aid the search. Bloodhounds were traversing the banks for any clues.
A reporter from the local weekly paper was on hand interviewing the lead investigator, but there was not much to tell at this point. The investigator relayed what little information they had gleaned from the backpack and gave pertinent information regarding Elizabeth’s disappearance back in January. The reporter seemed mildly disappointed, but after having obtained the name of the missing girl and where she was from, hurried back to the office to work up his story. They had been by the riverside most of the day. He doubted that they would find the body today, and he had a deadline to meet. Recovering the body would be next week’s story. He was already dreaming of his story hitting the AP wires and making him the star of the next CNN broadcast. He would write the both segments. Just in case.
Chapter 7
A Sad Mother’s Day
“She refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.”
It had been another difficult day for Carolyn --Mother’s Day. Depressed by the thought of her daughter never returning home, Carolyn sat cross-legged on her king-sized bed and surveyed all of the albums before her. She had photographs of Beth beginning with day one and ending with Christmas 2005. She had scrapbooks filled with pre-school art and locks of hair. She had kept every Mother’s Day card Beth had ever given her, starting with her very first, signed by John. It was unfathomable to imagine that this beautiful young girl had come to a tragic end.
Yes, she had spoiled Beth. But she had only wanted to give her a life that Carolyn herself had never known. She wanted her daughter to be popular and well educated, charming, and well groomed. She wanted so much for Beth. Carolyn picked up Beth’s first grade snapshot. She had lost her two front teeth, and was extremely self-conscious about it, even at that tender age.
/> “But mommy, what if they laugh at me?”
“Honey, no one will laugh. All your friends will lose their baby teeth too.”
Beth was always worried about what people thought of her. She was such a people pleaser, such a perfectionist. I did that to her, I suppose, Carolyn thought. I wanted her to be perfect. I expected too much from her, pushed her too hard. Why couldn’t she come to me? Of all people, I would have understood. Tears were rolling down her cheeks unchecked.
There was a photograph from a recent vacation. Beth had wanted to go to Dollywood, but John and Carolyn outvoted her in favor of Niagara Falls. Carolyn had snapped the picture of Beth aboard The Maiden of the Mist. She stood holding the rail, her rain slicker blowing in the mist, her face sullen and uninterested. Carolyn would give anything to go back in time. Why hadn’t they gone to Dollywood like Beth wanted? They could have gone to Niagara after Beth graduated and went to college. Why had they made her come along, when she had insisted she was old enough to stay home alone? I smothered her -- babied her too much. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.
“Honey....” John began as he entered the bedroom. He stopped short when he saw Carolyn on the bed holding the picture.
“I failed her John. I failed my daughter. She needed me and couldn’t come to me when she got in trouble.”
“You were ...you are a wonderful mother. You can’t keep beating yourself up over this. We taught Beth right from wrong. We took her to church. We did everything in our power to protect her. Honey, sometimes bad things happen. We’re not better than anyone else. Life’s dealt us a sorry hand, babe. But we have to trust that God is in control. I have to trust that God is in control. I have to. That’s what gets me through each day.”
John tenderly took the photo from her and scooted the album to the middle of the spread. He sat down beside his wife, took her into his arms, and held her. And as he held her, he began to quietly pray for sufficient grace and strength for both of them to make it through one more day. Just one more day, Lord.
Chapter 8
Wrongly Accused
“Why have ye done this thing?”
The investigators working the case knew that the odds of finding Elizabeth alive after all this time were slim after fishing her backpack from the Tennessee River and finding out that she was pregnant. Their attention turned to Chris as the primary suspect. They began conducting extensive interviews with all of Elizabeth’s school and church friends, asking them about Elizabeth’s relationship with Chris. Most of her girlfriends confirmed that Chris and Elizabeth were dating. None of them confirmed any sexual activity between the two, until they interviewed Crystal, who, went into immediate hysterics when the backpack was found.
“Oh no. She’s dead?” Her eyes welled up with tears, her lip trembled and her hands began to shake as well.
“We don’t know that. A body has not been found, despite what the papers released. The reporter was trigger happy. That reporter wrote up the story in anticipation of a body, and mistakenly sent it across the AP wires. All we actually found was the backpack with the pregnancy test inside.”
“Pregnancy test?”
“Yes, and since the backpack was waterproof, the test was preserved quite well. It indicated that whoever took the test was pregnant.”
Crystal paled. Her eyes widened as she looked away from the investigator’s stare.
“Is that news to you, or did you already know?”
“No. I...no…I didn’t know.” Crystal leaned over the table and buried her head in her hands, sobbing. “I told her to be careful. She swore after the first time they used protection.”
“The first time? Who was she sleeping with Crystal?”
“Chris.”
“Chris, her boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Is that the only boy she was sleeping with that you know of?”
“Yes.”
“She told you she had been with Chris?”
“Yes, after the Homecoming game she came to me and told me they did it in the car out on Bascomb Road.”
“She told you this? And the Homecoming game, when was it?”
“Yes. It was back in November. Right before Thanksgiving. You think Chris had something to do with her being missing? Chris wouldn’t do anything to her.”
“Well, uh, let’s just say, we have some questions for him as well. Anything else you can tell us about her relationship with Chris, Crystal?”
“She told me she was spending the night at Chris’s the night before she disappeared. I already told you all that. But Chris said he hadn’t seen her since school. Chris thought she was at my house. Believe me, he didn’t know.”
“Well, we will talk to Chris about his whereabouts again. Maybe there are some things Chris hasn’t told us.”
“Can I go now?”
“Of course, but call us if you think of anything else you can remember. Anything, you understand?”
“Yes sir. Please find her. She’s my best friend.”
“We hope to find her safe and well. Take care, Crystal.”
After Crystal exited, the investigator decided to go to the school and pay a surprise visit to Chris. Interviews went so much better with the suspect if he was caught off guard. He would ask Chris about his sexual relationship with Beth and why he hadn’t told the police about it before. He would also get Chris’s alibi for the night before. The investigator was sure that Chris had something to do with the young girl’s disappearance. He was sure Elizabeth had drowned in the Tennessee River, or been disposed of there.
The biggest piece of the puzzle was why she was in Memphis the night she disappeared. Had Chris taken her to Memphis for an abortion, Elizabeth chickened out, and Chris decided to kill her? The last known trail ended with Elizabeth checking into the Wingate. The keys were left in the room. The clerk did not know what time she checked out. He could have killed her that night, transported her to back through Jackson, then on to the Tennessee River and disposed of her. But that was illogical with the Mississippi River so convenient to the Wingate. But then murderers, especially teenage murderers, were never logical. It did not fit with the casino driver’s story that Elizabeth had ridden the bus alone to Memphis. Did Chris follow her? Was she abducted by a stranger in Memphis? How did she end up in the Tennessee River? He would have a slew of questions for Chris to answer this afternoon.
Chris was sitting in trigonometry class trying to concentrate on the teacher’s lecture. His mind was on Beth and the findings in the river. He could not believe what his dad had read in the paper this morning -- that a body had been found and DNA tests were going to be done. Was it Beth? It was useless to try and concentrate with this latest news on his mind. She had been his girlfriend. And now something bad had happened to her. And they thought she was pregnant. Pregnant. How could that be? He was still thinking about that first time when the principal stuck his head into the classroom.
“We need to speak to Chris Daily, please for a few moments.” Chris got out of his seat slowly and met the principal and the officer in the hallway.
“Chris, this is Officer Wayne Scott with the Tennessee Bureau of Investigation. He wants to ask you a few questions in my office.”
“Okay.”
They walked silently to the office, and once inside, the TBI officer closed the door and motioned for Chris to be seated. The officer remained standing and moved directly in front of Chris, overshadowing him, assuming the posture of the aggressor.
“Now, Chris, we just want to ask you a few questions about your whereabouts the night before Beth disappeared.”
“But I told you guys months ago about it. I was home all night studying for an exam.”
“Yes, you told us. But your parents say that you went to your room after supper. And they did not see you again until you called them from Beth’s house Saturday morning. Where were you all that time?”
“At home, studying. I went to my room around 7 p.m. I flunked the last trig exam. I couldn’t aff
ord to flunk another one and stay on the team.”
“You studied on a Friday night?”
“Well, yes. I knew Beth and I could spend Saturday together. Sometimes she and Crystal do stuff on Friday nights anyway, like girl stuff.”
“So, what time did you go to bed?”
“Around 11:00.”
“You studied for four hours?”
“No. I studied until 9:00, and then I played video games until 11:00.”
“You didn’t call Elizabeth before going to bed?”
“My dad was on the computer. Free dial up. He’s so cheap. He hates to be interrupted.”
“Ok. What about your cell phone?”
“It was run down from being off the charger at school all day.”
“And you didn’t call her that morning before you went over to her house. Why not?”
“I never had to call first. I hang out there all the time. Her parents are cool.”
“Well, they aren’t very happy with you now, are they?”
“No. I guess not. I swear I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“Is the baby yours?”
“Yeah, I mean...I guess so.”
“What do you mean, you guess?”
“Well, I was her first, and I don’t think she was sleeping around.”
“You don’t think. But you don’t know for sure?”
“I’m pretty sure. She told me she loved me.”
“And you love her? That’s why you told your buddies the night you had sex for the first time that she took the bait just like all the rest.”
Chris’ face turned pale.
“I did say that. But she really was becoming special to me. I wouldn’t hurt her. Even if I had known. I didn’t do anything to her. Honest.”
“Is there anyone that can back up your story about studying all night? Maybe you called a friend? Maybe your mom came and told you goodnight?”
From Pharaoh's Hand Page 6