Sara (5 page)

seven

Sara recovered her tattered blouse and bra from the mud. She crawled from the shallow grave and cried out in pain as she lifted herself with one arm from the ground. She stood wobbling and wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. The chill of the damp mountain air reached to her bones and threatened to sap her remaining strength. She spotted one of her leather wedge sandals, covered in mud at the bottom of the grave, but she didn’t have the strength to retrieve it. Her charm bracelet and panties were nowhere to be seen.

             
Sara’s mind was confused and roiling with thoughts that had no pattern and sometimes made no sense. She tried to remember what had happened to her, but the rape seemed distant and dark, like she had read about it in some tragic novel or news story. A flash of pain raced up her left arm and spread through her ribs, reminding her that she needed medical attention. It was quickly replaced by the memory of “Pop”, drooling onto her neck, and the strong smell of cheap cologne blending with his sweat.

             
Sara retched and shivered and looked at her surroundings once again. She stood in a clearing near the top of a rolling mountain. White quartz littered the ground, providing shelter for delicate yellow and pink Sulphur Flowers. At another time, Sara would have knelt to inhale the sweet fragrance of the tiny flora and marvel at the snow colored minerals, but now this place, these mountains, would forever be defined as violent and unsafe for her.

             
She folded her bra and placed it in the pocket of her skirt, then eased into her blouse and buttoned it with one hand. Sara had to find a safer place to hide until she could regain her wits. A trail wound downhill through the pine forest from the south end of the clearing. This was the same trail the two men had used to bring her to this place, and most likely the same trail they would use if they were going to return. At the east end of the clearing, that same trail led toward the top of another hill then disappeared. She knew that the lower trail would eventually lead to civilization and possible help, but it would also lead to the tow truck driver and the man who had raped her.

             
With shaking knees and questionable balance, Sara straightened her skirt, cradled her broken wrist, tucked her elbow tight against the bleeding gash in her ribs, and moved east toward the top of the hill. The sky lightened in that direction and she hoped to get a clearer view of her surroundings from up there. Maybe a glimpse of a highway or small town or some shelter where she could hide, warm herself, and tend to her wounds.

eight

The young man sat slouched in a folding chair near a table stained with spilled coffee and littered with paper cups. Clearing his throat in short nervous grunts, he persisted at nibbling dry tags of skin from his finger tips.

             
Mike thought the boy looked like any other kid his age; dark hair two months past a needed haircut, pants too baggy in the ass, a posture that conveyed he didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone. His uneasy twitches and grunts convinced Mike that the young man knew about Sara and was unwilling to share where she was located at this very moment.

             
Mike leaned back against the desk facing away from Mr. Winter, who was trying desperately to remain busy, determined to prove this was all just some big misunderstanding. Crossing his arms tightly across his chest, Mike broke the uncomfortable silence with his first question.

             
“What time would you say you received the call from the roadside service, Jordan?”

             
Jordan fidgeted, cleared his throat again and raised a thumb to his lips to attack another piece of dried skin.

             
Mr. Winter’s voice piped in from behind. “Ah, the dispatch log here says the call came in at two thirty-seven yesterday afternoon.”

             
Mike remained focused on the young driver. “Mr. Winter, I would like Jordan to answer these questions if you don’t mind.”

             
Jordan looked up for a brief second and Mike continued.

“Jordan, try to tell me exactly what the service said to you. Please be as detailed as possible.”

              The young man slapped his hands to his knees and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hell, I don’t know, mister,” he said.
“They told me a Honda Civic had a flat tire three miles north of town and asked if we could tow it to our lot.”

             
Mike pushed himself off the desk and stood towering over the nervous driver. “Did they ask you to tow the vehicle or did they ask you to change a flat tire?”

             
Jordan looked up, then immediately returned his gaze to the carpet. “I think the woman asked me to just check it out. Shit, I can’t remember.” Straightening up in his chair a little, he continued, “She said there was a silver Honda Civic with Colorado tags with a flat tire at mile marker 367 or 369 or something. It’s all written in the log there.” Jordan pointed, “Read it yourself.”

             
Mike knelt down, trying to make eye contact with the young man. “I don’t want to read it, Jordan. I want you to tell me exactly what you remember.”

             
Duncan Winter piped in again, “I’m calling your dad, Jordan. I think he should be here for this.”

             
A scowl crossed the young man’s face and Mike couldn’t decide if he saw fear or relief in his eyes.

             
“Did the roadside service mention whether or not there would be a girl with the car? Did they request that you give her a ride? Or call her a cab?” Mike’s voice raised a little. “Or do anything to ensure her safety?”

             
The young man shrugged again. “I don’t think they mentioned any girl. There sure as hell wasn’t any girl at the car when I got there.”

             
Mike paused for a long moment. Exhaustion seemed to wash through his bones. The thought that this man sitting in front of him may have caused harm to his little girl began to cloud his ability to think clearly.

             
Mike forced a smile and pulled the photo of Sara from his shirt pocket. Holding it up, he whispered, “She is a beautiful girl isn’t she?” He leaned in a little closer, “Helpless little thing on a lonely road in the middle of nowhere.”

             
Leaning in so Jordan had no choice but to make eye contact, Mike continued in a brotherly tone. “Of course you wanted to be with her; who wouldn’t? Classy college girl---probably wouldn’t give you the time of day anywhere else, but out there,” Mike pointed out the door of the trailer. “Out there, she needed you. You were her knight in shining armor.”

             
Mike watched as a thin smile spread across the boy’s face. “Did you ask her back to your place for a drink? A little appreciation for you riding to her rescue?”

             
Jordan blinked, looked away from the photo and smirked, “I told you, the bitch was not in the car when I got there.”

             
It was a burst of anger that lasted only a second. Mike had the boy out of his toppled chair and pinned against the table top in one fluid motion. A glass coffee pot shattered and cups rattled to the floor.

             
Mike was nose-to-nose with Jordan. “You little bastard, that ‘bitch’ is my daughter,” he yelled. “If she so much as has a splinter in her finger, I will end your life.” Mike shook the boy once. “Do you understand me, Jordan?”

             
Jordan cowered and tried to cover his head with his arms.

             
Mike felt a hand tearing at his shoulder and slowly realized that Duncan Winter was yelling at him.

             
“Mr. Haller!” he yelled. “Let go of him now!”

             
Mike released the boy and stood as the door to the trailer jerked open. A man in a sheriff’s uniform stepped through. He stood tall, with a good sized gut and barreled chest. Mike remembered Mr. Winter informing him that Jordan’s step-father was the sheriff of Red Feather County. The man’s right hand rested on the butt of a 9mm Glock, tucked into an unsnapped holster, and he frowned deeply as he tried to make sense of the situation.

             
Mike stepped back and crossed his arms across his chest.

             
“What the hell is going on in here, Duncan?” the sheriff asked, dividing his attention between Jordan and Mike.

             
Mr. Winter answered, “Hunter, this here is Mike Haller.”

Mike nodded
to the sheriff.

“He’s a deputy sheriff in Eagle County, he says.”
Duncan squeezed himself between Mike and Jordan, who was now leaning against the table. “The deputy is looking for his daughter,” Duncan added. “Jordan towed her car in yesterday afternoon but the girl wasn’t in it.”

             
Sheriff Hunter Barnes scowled at Mike. “Are you conducting an investigation in my jurisdiction, Deputy?”

             
Mike looked hard at Jordan. “I’m trying to find my daughter, Sheriff. I am not acting in any official capacity.”

             
Sheriff Barnes stepped closer to Mike. “Your uniform and badge suggest otherwise, Deputy.”

             
Looking at the broken coffee pot and overturned chair, Sheriff Barnes turned red in the face. “Maybe I will haul you down and process you into my jail for assaulting my boy.” Looking up at his stepson, he asked, “Jordan, do you wish to press charges against this man?”

             
Jordan grumbled, “No, sir, but I would like to see you beat his ass.”

             
The sheriff raised a finger and pointed at the young man. “Watch your language, boy.”

Turning to Mike
, he said, “Follow me outside, Deputy.”

             
Mike followed Sheriff Barnes through the door, glancing over his shoulder briefly to convey to Jordan that this was not over.

A
fully loaded, black Chrysler 300, with
Red Feather County Sheriff
decals on the doors and a custom low-profile light bar across the top, blocked Mike’s Taurus from leaving the small dirt lot. A light drizzle had started while Mike was inside.

Sheriff Barnes pointed to the passenger’s side of his patrol car and grumbled, “Get in.”

nine

Mike sank into the comfortable front seat of the Chrysler and immediately tried to make amends with the sheriff.

Taking an apologetic tone, he started,
“I’m really sorry about the misunderstanding, Sheriff. I was on duty last night when I was informed my daughter might be missing.”

             
Sheriff Barnes started the cruiser and set the heater to low.

“I’m listening,
Deputy.”

             
Mike continued with his apology, “I didn’t think to take off my uniform before driving up here.” Hesitating a little bit, he tried to elaborate. “I am worried that my daughter is not with her car, and she has failed to contact me or her mother. I guess that my appearance was the last thing on my mind.”

             
The sheriff adjusted his butt in the leather seat and breathed out a heavy sigh, “I understand your concern, Mr. Haller, but let me point out to you what I just witnessed.”

The radio
on the dash came to life with a dispatcher’s voice. Sheriff Barnes adjusted the volume down after determining the call was not for him. He turned in his seat a little to make eye contact with his passenger.

“I received a call from Mr. Winter, stating that an officer of the law was conducting an official interview with one of my constituents.”
Barnes smiled, “Actually, Jordan is my stepson. I’m not sure if you were made aware of that.”

             
Mike only nodded, knowing the sheriff was not finished.

             
“Now, I sat wondering, after I got the call from Duncan, just how I missed the official notification that an outside agency was conducting an investigation in my county?” The sheriff chuckled, “So I raced right over to see if I could be of any assistance, and I walk in on a two-forty in progress.”

             
Mike winced at the reference to an assault in progress. “I apologize---”

             
Sheriff Barnes cut him off. “Not only do I witness a fellow police officer committing battery on my stepson, I am also informed for the very first time, that a young female may be missing in my county.”

             
Mike turned red in the face. He’d screwed up royally, and he knew it.

“You’re right,
Sheriff. I am---”

             
Sheriff Barnes interrupted again, this time with a raised voice. “You are going to get out of my cruiser, Deputy, and you are going to drive your behind down to the county building and file an official report with my office. In the mean time, I will get the facts from Duncan and Jordan and decide at that time whether or not to lock you up.”

             
Mike opened his door and stepped out. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”

             
Sheriff Barnes rolled down his window and spoke as he moved his car enough for Mike’s Taurus to get out. “I’ll be along in a couple of hours or so. Don’t you leave the county building until I get there, Deputy.”

             
Mike nodded before climbing into his car. His chest was tight from embarrassment and frustration. An ache announced itself from a broken rib that had healed improperly after two bullets were stopped by his tactical vest six months earlier. Mike started his car and backed slowly from the driveway. His shame transformed to sorrow when he spotted Sara’s Civic behind the chain-link fence of the impound lot.