Authors: Tony Hayden
twenty-seven
A large crowd gathered outside the Ranch Springs Community Hall on the western edge of town. Jean Haller and students from the University of Wyoming were handing out bright orange safety vests to volunteers. Sheriff Barnes was standing in front of a news reporter relating his account of the disappearance of Sara Haller.
Mike was feeling on edge after a phone call from his friend, Deputy Aaron Madsen from Lake County. Madsen had shared that Harry Pennington’s apartment was empty and neighbors had said that they hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks.
Mike’s stomach felt as if someone had poured hot lead into it and let it harden. He wasn’t sure what direction he would take next. He thought about the stories he had heard of Jim and Carol Iverson while they were searching for their missing son in southern Mexico. Rumors that Jim had tortured a man to death to find his son had run rampant through the sheriff’s department. Jim was dead now, shot down by a Mexican police officer because of that alleged torture, but his son was miraculously rescued and was now alive and well.
I would make that trade,
Mike thought to himself.
I would happily give my life to save my daughter.
Mike looked around the crowd of over one-hundred people to see if he could spot Jordan Barnes. He found his wife, Jean, hugging individuals as they came to her to offer solace. Larry Jents, the dispatcher from Eagle County, was gesturing dramatically and openly crying while he stood at Jean’s elbow. Rachel, Sara’s best friend, stood by with roses to be placed at a memorial near the steps of the community hall. Many of Sara’s teachers and friends from high school were there, as well as nurses from the hospital where Sara volunteered. Mike continued searching down the line forming to speak with Jean. Lots of people he did not recognize, some he did. Pastor Gary Popineau stood among a group of his parishioners and read from a Bible. Their heads were bowed in prayer and Mike took comfort from these perfect strangers.
“How are you doing, Mike?”
He turned to see Carol Iverson standing behind him. As always, his breath seemed to disappear whenever he found himself in close proximity to this woman. She had changed her hair color to a light brown and her face glowed even more than he remembered.
“I, uh…oh, well…I’m a little overwhelmed, I guess.” Mike blinked. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Carol.”
Carol Iverson stepped closer to Mike and touched his arm. “As soon as I heard the news, I canceled my book tour and flew home to see if I could be of any help.”
Mike settled a bit. “You didn’t have to do that, Carol.”
“Yes I did,” she said. “You saved my life. You saved my son’s life. I owe you more than you will ever know.”
Mike blushed. “I was just doing my job, but actually, you can help me tremendously. I am trying to reach your Uncle Harry. He’s not at home and I can’t seem to locate him.”
Carol laughed quietly. “That’s Harry, always off somewhere trying to save the world. You’re in luck though; I’m picking him up at the airport in Denver tomorrow morning. He’s been down in Mexico and he called me last night and told me that he has a big surprise for me.” A skeptical look crossed Carol’s face. “I think he went down there to break Sergio Salinas out of prison. I wouldn’t put anything past Harry.”
Mike smiled and recalled the story of the Zapatista rebel confessing to a murder so that Carol would remain free. Harry had mentioned to Mike that he had “unfinished business” in Mexico.
Looking around Carol, Mike asked, “Where’s Taylor? I bet he is taller than me by now.”
Carol smiled. “He spent the summer with Jim’s parents in Phoenix. The doctors there have done a wonderful job reconstructing his ear and reducing the scars on his neck from the fire. Harry is flying into Phoenix today and he’s bringing Taylor home with him tomorrow.”
Mike absentmindedly rubbed at the scar tissue on the palms of his hands. He had received second degree burns while saving the Iverson boy from a horrible death. “When you see Harry tomorrow, please ask him to call me as soon as possible. I think he might be my only hope for finding Sara.”
Carol looked concerned. “Of course, Mike. I will try to reach him today if at all possible.” She stepped closer to Mike and touched his face. “I know exactly what you are going through. My heart hurts terribly for you and Jean.”
She hugged him and Mike felt himself melt at her embrace. “One very important thing that I learned while I was searching for Taylor in Chiapas,” she said quietly, “is to never lose hope. If your heart is telling you that Sara is alive, then you have to believe that and do everything in your power to find her.”
Mike’s eyes watered, but he kept from completely breaking down. “She is alive, Carol. I can feel her calling out to me.” He stepped back and looked into the eyes of the woman he had fallen in love with. “Thank you for helping me realize that.”
The afternoon progressed and teams of volunteer searchers began gathering back at the community house to report their findings. Sheriff Barnes had set up a command center inside the building and was busy dispatching out his deputies to various locations identified by teams. He had pages of scribbled notes and empty paper coffee cups littered the table where he sat.
Barnes looked up at Mike and grimaced as he entered the building. “I have Deputy Watts out on Cherokee Park Road investigating an abandoned structure. Some searchers said there was a foul odor coming from one of the outbuildings. It’s probably a dead sheep or coyote, but I’ve seen cases break wide open on much less.”
Mike swallowed hard and nodded. “Did anything come of the pile of clothing the ROTC cadets found outside of Virginia Dale?”
Barnes shook his head and shuffled through his notes. “Men’s clothing; pair of Levi’s and old tennis shoes. Your daughter was wearing a tan skirt and white cotton top, right?”
Mike nodded again and remained quiet.
Sheriff Barnes finished off another coffee and slid the empty cup to the side. “Listen,” he said. “I’m going to release your daughter’s car to you after this pony show is over, so you can get the hell out of my county. I’ve gone through it twice now and nothing catches my interest. There’s no evidence that suggests Sara did not leave on her own accord. No blood or signs of a struggle. No evidence whatsoever.”
“Okay,” Mike said. “Maybe I can have one of the volunteers drive it home.”
Sheriff Barnes looked away. “You’ll need to pay Duncan for the towing and impound fees, and that front tire still needs to be changed. I’ve instructed Duncan and Jordan not to touch it.”
“That’s fine,” Mike said. “I’ll meet up with you before dark.”
Barnes cleared his throat. “Well, you’ll have to talk to Deputy Watts. I’m heading up to the mountains for some peace and quiet for a couple of days.”
Mike left the community hall and spotted Jean leaning against a rail fence
near the small playground at the back of the building. She had avoided him all day and turned away when she noticed him looking at her. It was obvious to Mike that she had been crying.
“Sweetheart,” he called as he walked up behind her. “Are you okay?”
Jean shook her head incredulously and wiped at her eyes. “God damn I hate you, Mike.” She pushed off the fence and faced him. “You have never been concerned about me.”
Mike looked shocked. “Jean, please,” he pleaded. “You are just upset right now.”
Jean began crying again. “Upset?” she yelled. “I have been upset every day that I have been with you, you bastard. I thought, ‘Maybe a child will make things better between us.’ So, I got pregnant and we had Sara and you stole her away from me, Mike.” Jean slapped Mike furiously. “You stole her from me and you treated me like an outsider.”
Mike grabbed Jean’s arm as she tried to strike him again. “Jean, please,” he pleaded again. The crowd of volunteers tried to turn away and act disinterested, but Jean was yelling loud enough for everyone to hear.
“You killed her, you son-of-a-bitch!” Jean yanked her arm from Mike’s grip. “I begged you, Mike. I pleaded with you to let me have one more year with our daughter, but you said, ‘No!’ You said that she needed to go to college. And when I begged you to please drive her to Wyoming, you said, ‘No!’ again. ‘She needs to gain some independence,’ you said.”
Jean balled her fist and struck Mike in the face. “You murdering bastard! You fed our daughter to the man who did this to her. You gave her to him to use like some disgusting toy for his own perverted pleasures and then you stood by as he threw her in the gutter.”
Mike wiped away blood that was pouring from his lip. “Jean, please, you’re not making any sense. Sara is still alive. Can’t you feel her?”
No matter what he said, Jean seemed to become more distraught. “I could never ‘feel her’, Mike. You made sure of that. And now, my daughter is gone and I will never get a chance to tell her how much I loved her. I will never get a chance to hold her children in my arms and pray for a connection to them that you never allowed me to have with Sara.”
Mike started crying openly. “I am so sorry if you truly feel this way, Jean.” He stepped forward and took her in his arms. “I never meant to hurt you. I never knew I was hurting you.”
Jean struggled from his grip and slapped him again. “You are dead to me, mister. You need to go somewhere where they will never find your body and shoot yourself.”
Mike felt weak and leaned hard against the rail fence. He finally looked up to see Jean storming through the crowd of volunteers toward her car.