Missing Memories

by Carol Dean Jones

  “Barney has his own bed too,” Sarah responded, but she wondered if it wasn’t hard for Caitlyn. She remembered that Barney had slept with her when she took care of him, and Caitlyn had been very animated when she talked about how she loved snuggling with a dog.

  “But Sabrina wants to sleep with me,” Caitlyn added. “Do you think it’s okay? I can lift her up and down.”

  “You should talk to your dad about that,” Sarah responded, not wanting to get in the middle. “So, when do you want to come over?”

  “Would it be okay to come in about an hour? I haven’t finished my chores, but if I hurry, I’ll be done by then.”

  “That’s just fine. I’ll have my chores done by then too.” Sarah was smiling to herself as she hung up, thinking what a good job these two men were doing with their girls. Timothy and Andy both found themselves single dads late in life, and they had both managed to excel at their new responsibilities.

  Thinking about Penny, Sarah picked up the phone and called her. “I was just thinking that since Charles is over there talking to your dad, you just might like to come over here.”

  “Sure, I guess,” she responded.

  “Caitlyn and Sabrina are on their way, and you can bring Blossom.” Penny’s tone changed completely from mild indifference to unbridled excitement. “Dad,” Sarah heard her cry. “Can I go to Aunt Sarah’s, please, please?” She could hear Timothy in the background, and it sounded like he agreed. Charles came to the phone to say he’d drive them over.

  “Thanks, Hon,” he said. “We’re doing some serious planning over here. Penny was already looking bored.” Sarah told him what was going on at their house and encouraged him to stay with Tim as long as it took.

  By the time Caitlyn arrived, Sarah and Penny had all the fabric scraps out, and the three began talking about how to make the dresses. “Why don’t we make a simple little pinafore?” Sarah suggested.

  Neither girl was familiar with the term, so Sarah made a quick sketch. “That’s sort of like an apron,” Caitlyn said.

  “Yes, and it will be simple to make.” Sarah and Caitlyn told Penny about the fidget quilts and how the dolls would be used. Sarah pulled out the quilt Ruth had purchased at the show, and Penny was fascinated with it.

  “This would be good for kids, too,” Caitlyn suggested.

  “I think that’s where the idea came from,” Sarah responded. “I believe they’re sometimes used with autistic children.”

  “I want to work with children when I grow up,” Penny said.

  Thinking that Penny might feel left out of the project, Sarah reached into her cabinet and pulled out a small stuffed animal she had purchased for Barney but had decided it was too small for him. “How would you like to make a dress for this little kitten?” she asked, and Penny clapped her hands together.

  “Oh, thank you,” she squealed. Sarah had to remind herself that Penny was fourteen. She was brought up in such isolation, that she displayed the innocence of a much younger child.

  They spent the next couple of hours on their projects, and Penny proudly lined them up on the kitchen table as Sarah prepared lunch. “Let’s take the dogs for a walk after lunch,” Caitlyn suggested. It was a warm spring day, a nice day for a walk.

  “Why don’t we walk over to Sophie’s and invite Emma to go with us,” Sarah suggested before she realized that was quite a few dogs for them to manage.

  About that time, Charles walked in from the garage. “Hi girls,” he said. “Penny, I think your dad might have some news for you.”

  “Don’t you think you should wait and let her father tell her?” Sarah interjected before he had a chance to say too much.

  “Oh, he will,” Charles said with a wide grin as he turned and looked back into the garage. “He’s right behind me.”

  Moments later, Timothy stepped into the kitchen with a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

  “What is it, Daddy?” Penny asked as she reached for Blossom, who was already attacking her father’s ankles and untying his shoe strings.

  Simultaneously, Caitlyn grabbed Sabrina, who was heading for Timothy, excitedly whining and barking as if she were greeting a long lost friend when in fact they’d never met.

  Barney lay on his mat on the kitchen floor, taking it all in and yawning. These youngsters, he seemed to be thinking.

  “So, Dad, what?”

  “I called Altoona and told them we won’t be coming. We’re staying right where we are,” he announced with a wink. Moments later Penny was in his arms while all three dogs jumped on him with excitement. The dogs may not have known what they were excited about, but Penny sure did.

  Sarah smiled at Charles and nodded. Sometimes it pays to be a busybody.

  * * *

  They were already in bed when the phone rang. Sarah was almost asleep, and Charles was already dozing. “I’ll get it,” she said, but Charles had already reached for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad, it’s John. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “It’s fine. Is everyone okay?”

  “We’re all fine. I just had some information for you. I had a call tonight from Seymour. There’s been another development.”

  Charles sat up and reached for the lamp. “What’s happened?” he asked as he put the phone on speaker so Sarah could listen.

  “He swore me to secrecy, Dad. He knew I’d tell you, but it can’t go any farther.”

  “Sarah’s right here, son…”

  “Oh, of course Sarah can know, but no one else, especially Ruth’s family. We don’t want to get their hopes up. In fact, this information may not lead to anything good.”

  “What is it?” Sarah asked, impatient to know what had happened.

  “The FBI made a connection when they began looking into this Tina Manchester. It seems she was, and I guess still is, in the Witness Protection Program.”

  “That would explain her sudden disappearance from the radar,” Charles commented. “But what does that have to do with Ruth?”

  “Remember the similarity in their looks? Tina Manchester, you’ll remember, came up when they ran Ruth Weaver’s picture through the facial recognition software.”

  “Yes, but what does this mean for Ruth?” Sarah asked.

  “Sarah is asking…” Charles began, but John interrupted him.

  “I heard her. Sarah, what this means is they’ve finally found a possible explanation for why she was taken.”

  “I don’t understand…” she responded.

  “Let him finish,” Charles said, gently laying his hand on her arm.

  “They’re going on the assumption that Ruth may have been kidnapped by mistake.”

  “By mistake?” Sarah cried. “Do they know who took her?”

  “They have an idea, at least of who might be behind it.”

  “And who is that?” Charles asked.

  “Seymour didn’t want to share any details, but he ultimately mentioned a Dante Ybarra. This is one bad dude.”

  “Have they questioned him?”

  “I don’t know, but I confirmed today the guy’s been in prison for some twenty years with three life sentences to go.”

  “So it couldn’t be him,” Sarah said with a degree of relief.

  “These guys have outside connections,” Charles responded to her, then to his son he asked, “So what’s next?”

  “We wait, and remember, this is just a theory. This may not be the explanation at all, but it’s the closest thing to a lead they’ve had since her disappearance, at least as far as we know.”

  Sarah reached for the phone. “John, what are her chances if Ybarra’s people are the ones who took her?”

  “These guys are bottom feeders, Sarah. But remember, we don’t know that’s who has her. It’s just the first piece of information we’ve been able to get out of the FBI. I will tell you this. Seymour assured me the agency is taking this very seriously. They’re pulling out all the stops.” Sarah thanked him and handed the phone back to Charles.
She left the room to give her husband private time with his son, thinking there might be more information John just didn’t want to share in front of her.

  When Charles finished and came looking for his wife, he found her in the kitchen with a cup of herbal tea. “Did he have anything else to say?” she asked.

  “No, just speculation and we don’t need to go there.”

  “I agree.” She stood, and he wrapped her in his arms.

  “Remember, you can’t tell anyone about this,” Charles said softly as he held her.

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear it. It’s bad enough that we heard it,” she responded.

  Dante Ybarra, she repeated the name to herself. Charles felt her shiver and held her close.

  Chapter 21

  Sarah felt sad as she approached the chapel. She hadn’t been to church since Ruth disappeared, yet she knew this was where she needed to be. The most recent news from Seymour had hit her hard. She had to face the reality that her friend might never come home.

  The sanctuary was empty when she arrived. Sarah chose a seat in the back and lowered her head. Tears threatened to flow, but she sat quietly and allowed herself to experience the feeling of peace that she could always count on when she was in this sacred place.

  She hadn’t gone to the village chapel where she and Charles had been going since they met. She had instead driven across town to the church she had attended with Jonathan and the children – the church she had thought would be a part of their family throughout their lives. But instead it became the place for Jonathan’s funeral, and again for her young grandson. She hadn’t been back since she moved to Cunningham Village.

  She was startled when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder but smiled when she looked into the kind eyes of Pastor John. “Sarah,” he said softly and motioned for her to follow him to this chamber.

  When she left an hour later, she had shared her every fear and he had listened with gentle understanding. He prayed with her, and for the first time in weeks, she felt hope.

  “And,” she said aloud as she was driving home, “I know exactly what I will do.” Charles wasn’t home when she arrived. She poured a glass of iced tea, grabbed her computer glasses, and headed for Charles’ den. She turned on his computer and did a google search on the name Dante Ybarra. She smiled when she realized the name no longer frightened her.

  An hour or so later she heard her husband coming in the back door. “I’m in here,” she shouted. “Come see what I found.”

  Before he reached the room, he heard his out-of-date printer grinding away. “What’s all this?”

  “Meet one Dante Ybarra, better known among his friends and enemies as ‘The Barracuda.’”

  Charles saw the old sparkle in his wife’s eyes and couldn’t help asking, “What’s happened to you?” He knew she’d been trying to stay strong, but, especially after Seymour’s call, she seemed to be feeling the strain.

  “Just a little refueling,” she responded cryptically. “Look at this.” She handed him a printout of a Texas newspaper.

  He sat down and read about the arrest of a drug lord operating a cartel out of a small border town in Texas. Dante Ybarra, The Barracuda, and two of his lieutenants were arrested, along with several of his low-level falcons.

  “When was this?” Charles asked, skipping ahead looking for a date.

  “The trial was twenty-two years ago, and the daughter and wife of Malcolm Bradley, one of his lieutenants, were the primary witnesses.” Sarah handed him another few pages. “This leads up to the trial.”

  “The wife could testify against Ybarra but not her husband,” he said thoughtfully.

  “I know,” Sarah responded. “It looks like the daughter, Laura Bradley, was the state’s primary witness against Ybarra. She was twenty-five at the time. Take a look at this,” she said handing him another newspaper clipping. “This was from the trial.”

  “He was found guilty on all charges,” he said.

  She handed him an article with a frightening courtroom picture of Ybarra taken the day he was found guilty. “This next article came out several weeks later and reported that he was sentenced to three consecutive life sentences for the murders of three members of a rival cartell.”

  Charles frowned as he studied the articles, going back occasionally to a previous sheet.

  “Read this one,” Sarah said, handing him another printout. “This was another article that came out the day of sentencing.” She turned around and watched Charles as he read the reporter’s description of Ybarra’s reaction to the judge’s decision.

  Looking directly at the state’s witness with an ugly, threatening sneer, Ybarra snarled, “You’ll die for this.” It took three guards to drag The Barracuda out of the courtroom. In a later interview, Ms. Bradley said that testifying against her father was the hardest thing she had every done, but as far as Ybarra was concerned, she hated him and was sorry they hadn’t sent him to the gas chamber. “He was responsible for my brother’s death and ruined my father’s life,” the young woman said.

  “So her father worked for Ybarra,” Charles said, “and she testified against both of them. What happened to her father?”

  “He died in prison five years later.”

  “And this brother she mentions?”

  “Drugs, it says somewhere here,” Sarah responded, shuffling back through the sheets.

  “So what are you thinking?” he asked her, still looking at the last article.

  “That our Tina Manchester is Laura Bradley,” she responded, “and in witness protection.”

  “I agree, but where does that leave Ruth?”

  “I have no idea,” she responded, “but I’ll bet we now know just about as much as the FBI knows. How’s that for detecting?” she asked, looking proud of her efforts.

  “You did great,” he responded, knowing how much she enjoyed playing amateur detective. “Did you look at this picture of Laura Bradley?” he asked, picking up a printout that had fallen to the floor.

  “I sure did. And I know what you’re thinking. That’s probably what Ruth would have looked like back then.”

  “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “And you are totally certain Laura and Ruth are not one and the same.”

  “Don’t start that again, Charles. Ruth has a history that we all know about. However, Laura and Tina are probably one and the same.”

  “True. And did you do a google search on Laura Bradley?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “I sure did.”

  “And?”

  “She vanished from the face of the earth the day after the trial. She no longer exists,” Sarah responded, “thanks to the magic of witness protection, I assume.”

  “Just like Tina,” he responded.

  “So now what?” Sarah asked, pushing back from the computer.

  “I have no idea,” Charles responded. “Lunch perhaps?”

  Chapter 22

  It was the fourth meeting of the Friday Night Quilters without Ruth, and Sarah dreaded facing her friends, and especially Ruth’s sister Anna, not being able to tell them this latest piece of information. She hoped that the FBI would be able to find Ruth now that they had somewhat of a lead, but she couldn’t share this information, not even with Sophie.

  She had just pulled up in front of Sophie’s house and was starting to get out of the car when she saw Sophie hobbling toward her. “Where are your crutches?” Sarah called out before her friend had even reached the car.

  “Stop nagging. It’s been three weeks, and that’s as long as Dr. Dean said I had to use them.” Sophie struggled to get into the car and pulled the seatbelt across her pudgy middle.

  “Okay,” Sarah responded. “First of all, Dr. Dean said ‘three or four weeks,’ and second of all, it’s only been two weeks.”

  “You’re such a stickler for details,” Sophie complained. “Start the car. I don’t want to be late.”

  Sarah sighed, realizing her friend would do exactly what she wanted. On
the way, they talked again about the fidget quilts and Sarah told her friend what they would be doing that night.

  “But I don’t have a quilt to put things on, and I don’t know how to make one.”

  “Well, before I knew how medically noncompliant you were going to be, I made one for you. It’s in that bag on the floor by your feet.”

  Sophie’s face lit up as she pulled the small quilt out and looked at it. Sarah had used bright colors because she knew Sophie would like them but had used muted fabrics for her own.

  “What are these other things?” Sophie asked, pulling out the two dolls and the kitten. “Caitlyn and I brought the dolls home and made the little dresses for them. The kitten is for you. Penny did that one and wanted you to have it for your quilt.”

  “Oh,” Sophie responded with emotion. “That was so sweet of her. I love the little apron she’s wearing.”

  “We talked about making little pockets on the quilt to put the dolls in.”

  “I can do that. I’ll sew it on by hand. What else shall I add to it?” Since Sophie had missed the past few meetings, she hadn’t seen all the supplies the members had contributed.

  “You’ll have your choice. We have enough for everyone: ribbons, buttons, zippers, rick rack, and beads. You’ll have lots to choose from.”

  “Have you heard from John?” Sophie asked abruptly, and Sarah looked away, knowing her friend could read her face. “What’s the matter? You know something, don’t you?”

  “John called to say they may have a lead, but we just have to wait. Let’s not talk about it tonight, okay? Let’s just have fun.”

  “Humph,” Sophie responded, knowing there was more to be said, but she decided to let her friend off the hook.

  When they walked into the shop, they were surprised to find several members quietly sitting around the work table deeply engrossed in their work. “Hi Girls,” Delores said, greeting them without looking up. “Come see what we discovered.”

  Sarah pulled out their chairs and sat down across from Delores. “Here, try to pull this off,” the woman said, passing her mini quilt with a row of beads on a cord attached at both ends so the user could move the beads back and forth.”