Sara (11 page)

             
Mike sat quietly for a moment before asking, “Are you in on this Barnes?” His heart froze at the thought. “My daughter quietly disappears in your county along with several other young girls over the years and somehow it escapes public scrutiny. I would guess it takes someone with lots of influence to keep that a secret.”

             
He made eye contact with the sheriff in the mirror again and continued, “Your stepson is a legitimate suspect and you have refused to investigate this case. So, I am asking you, Sheriff, are you a party to these crimes? Did you and Jordan kidnap my daughter?”

             
Sheriff Barnes held Mike’s gaze in the mirror and slowly pulled the Chrysler to the side of the road. With the engine idling, he turned in his seat and faced Mike.

             
“Let me be perfectly clear with you,
Deputy
. When you are in my presence, you will show proper respect. Twenty years in law enforcement and I have
never
had my integrity questioned as you just did.”

             
Barnes’ eyes burned into Mike for a full minute before he spoke again.

“I have been actively investigating the disappearance of your daughter
, Mike. I have been knocking on doors, talking to local farmers and businessmen. I am coordinating with other counties, rounding up and questioning perverts and rapists and residents of a dozen half-way houses who would jump at a chance to spend five minutes with a young college girl.”

             
Mike looked away, noticeably skeptical of what he was hearing.

             
Barnes softened a little.

“I was heading back to town
just now to question a witness who has come forward with news about your daughter. But now I am delayed because I have to worry about a fellow law enforcement officer who seems hell bent on becoming judge, jury, and executioner, with my stepson in his crosshairs.”

             
Mike looked back at Barnes, “All my instincts as a police officer tell me that your stepson is a lead suspect in my daughter’s disappearance. And the simple fact that he
is
your stepson cries out for the State Attorney General to be involved in this investigation.”

             
Barnes looked sad for a moment, “Mike, the boy is not involved,” he said. “I know him inside and out. I raised him as my own son. He shelters stray kittens for God’s sake. I’ve watched him feed them with an eye dropper. I’ve watched him cry when he handed over a stray mutt to the rescue shelter. The boy is soft, he could never cause harm to your daughter.”

              Mike listened and shook his head, “Don’t you see, Sheriff? You can’t help but be prejudiced. Jordan may very well be the last person to see my daughter alive. A proper interrogation done by an impartial party can determine whether or not he is a suspect.”

             
Sheriff Barnes’ face reddened. He turned in his seat and put the Chrysler into drive. “I am the law in this county, Deputy, not the State Attorney General.”

Checking his side mirrors, Barnes pulled back onto the road to town. “
And it can become very dangerous around these parts for any person who finds himself challenging my authority. Unlike my stepson, I make sport of cleansing this county of strays.”

             
Mike made eye contact with Barnes in the rearview mirror again; the veiled threat received. The pain in his head wailed like a prairie siren, warning of an approaching tornado.

The Red Feather County Sheriff’s Office hummed with the quiet business
of paperwork, chirping telephones, and hushed conversations. Mike felt like an alien in an atmosphere where he usually found comfort. Deputy Ryan Watts entered through the front doors with a paramedic close on his heels.

             
“Doug,” he said over his shoulder, “this is Deputy Mike Haller of the Eagle County Sheriff’s Department.”

             
The paramedic nodded at Mike and lowered his first responder bag to the floor.

             
Watts continued, “I want you to give this man a thorough examination and clean up his cuts and bruises.”

The Deputy bent over and looked closely at Mike’s face. “
Can you fix his nose, or will I need to transport him to Poudre Valley Hospital?”

             
The paramedic squatted in front of Mike and took a close look at the bridge of his nose. “I can set it, it doesn’t look too bad. He’s gonna look like a raccoon for a few weeks though.”

             
Mike scoffed, “I feel like a raccoon who’s been run over by a semi.”

             
The paramedic was running his fingers over Mike’s ribs, watching his face closely for signs of pain.

“Can you remove his handcuffs, Ryan
?”

Looking Mike in the eye, Doug
asked, “Are you going to behave yourself so I can examine you?”

             
Mike smiled and looked embarrassed. “I’m no threat to you, Doug. Believe it or not, I’m one of the good guys.”

             
Deputy Watts chimed in as he unlocked and removed Mike’s restraints, “Mr. Haller is here looking for his daughter. Her car broke down north of town and she hasn’t been seen since.”

             
The paramedic ran both hands down Mike’s arms, checking for fractures.

“That sucks,” he said. “If it’s your daughter who’s missing
, why are you the one sitting here in cuffs looking like you tangled with a mountain lion?”

             
Mike was about to answer when the paramedic pulled the wads of gauze from his nose then used his thumbs to set the small bones back into proper position. Before Mike knew it, more gauze was packed into his nostrils and tape was applied to the bridge of his nose to stabilize the fracture. His eyes poured water and all he could say was, “Ouch!”

             
Doug stood, “I’ll leave you some ibuprofen for the swelling. If the bleeding doesn’t stop shortly, you’ll have to see a doctor.”

Turning to Deputy Watts, he added, “He seems to be in good shape, other than a few bruises and abrasions. Blood pressure is
fine; pupils are reactive so there’s no obvious brain injury. His breathing is clear, pulse is strong, no broken bones other than his schnoz.”

             
Deputy Watts patted the paramedic on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Doug
,” he said. “Would you please send me a copy of your report? Make sure that it’s addressed to me personally.”

             
“Sure thing,” he answered before retrieving his bag and heading for the front door.

             
Deputy Watts waited until the paramedic had left before pulling up a chair next to Mike.

“The Sheriff says he is charging you with careless driving, resisting arrest, assault on a police officer, and brandishing a weapon.”

Watts leaned close and whispered, “What the hell happened out there?”

             
Mike tried to whisper, but the blocked nasal passages made it difficult.

“It’s all trumped up,” he said. “The Sheriff thinks I was stalking Jordan and it pissed him off.”

              Watts blinked. “Were you?” he asked.

             
Mike looked around the room. He knew that anything he told Deputy Watts could be used against him in a court of law, but he needed a friend right now and something about this fellow lawman made Mike feel confident that he could trust him. He leaned a little closer and lowered his voice.

“I searched Jordan’s trailer while he was at work and found a shoebox full of girl’s panties; all different sizes, some stained with dirt.”

              Deputy Watts leaned back and looked at Mike as if he were a crazy man.

“I don’t even have to ask if you had a search warrant,” he lectured. “Have you gone insane, Mike? You are damned lucky that you weren’t shot out there.”
Watts shook his head, “What the hell were you thinking?”

             
Mike raised his voice considerably, “I know that little fucker took my daughter, Watts. And because he is the stepson of the sheriff in this county, he’s going to get away with it.”

             
Deputy Watts stood quickly and grabbed Mike by the shoulder lifting him from the chair. Pointing to a closed door, he pushed Mike into a small office and sat him in a chair. He flipped a sign on the door to read, “Interrogation in Progress” and closed it harshly.

             
Mike watched the deputy as he stood and leaned against the door.

“In my short career here in Red Feather County,
” Watts said, “I have learned one truth that scares the living hell out of me.” Turning toward Mike, Watts continued in a hushed tone. “And that is the simple fact that you don’t challenge Sheriff Hunter Barnes. He is one tough old son-of-a-bitch, but I honestly think he is an honorable man.”

             
Mike scoffed, “Yeah, and he tattooed that honor all over my face and torso this afternoon for no reason.”

             
Watts pulled up a folding chair and sat in it, “He wrote that you turned and grabbed him as he was searching you.”

             
Mike laughed, “He pulled me over for no reason.”

             
Watts shook his head, “He pulled you over for talking on your cell phone while driving. That’s a class one misdemeanor in this county.”

             
Mike became defensive, “Is it a rule in this county to draw your weapon and rough up citizens who commit class one misdemeanors?”

             
Deputy Watts looked toward the door, “The Sheriff reports that you claimed to be carrying a concealed weapon.” He looked back to Mike, “Of course he’s going to search you and secure your weapon. It sounds like you overreacted.”

             
Mike lowered his head and thought for a moment.

“Maybe I did,” he finally admitted. “I’m scared to death for the safety of my daughter. Red lights are
flashing at me, telling me that Jordan knows where she is. Call it gut instinct, or officer’s intuition, or just plain damned experience; I know that boy is involved in Sara’s disappearance.”

             
Watts sat silently for a moment, “Tell me about the box of panties you found in Jordan’s trailer.”

             
Mike looked up, relief splashed across his face. He knew that Watts was a good man.

“
They were in an uncovered shoe box on the top shelf of his bedroom closet. Six or seven pair---different styles---some were torn, others had dirt stains on them. They looked like trophies, or…” Mike paused, “mementos.”

             
Deputy Watts sat silently and rubbed his chin in deep thought. After a few moments, he finally spoke.

“I’m going to tell you a story. When I am finished, I am going to turn you over to the jail staff for booking on the charges Sheriff Barnes has filed against you. I will not answer any questions
you might have, and if you ever reveal that I shared this information with you, I’ll shoot you myself. Are we clear?”

             
Mike nodded.

             
“This past spring,” Watts began, “I pulled Jordan Barnes over for speeding down Highway 287. I clocked him at eighty miles per hour in a sixty-five mile per hour zone. He was driving a black, 1997 Ford Super Duty tow truck that was registered to Duncan Towing of Ranch Springs, Colorado.”

             
Mike asked, “The same truck he drives now?”

             
Deputy Watts glared at Mike, warning him not to interrupt again.

             
“Two days before the scheduled court date, the ticket was dismissed by an assistant district attorney. The order of dismissal stated that a global positioning system on the tow truck proved that the vehicle was traveling seventy miles per hour at the time in question.”