by Rick Mofina
We could use some luck, Jackson thought, checking the time and how long Riley Jarrett had now been missing. Time is working against us.
Jackson concentrated on the LED wall monitor displaying maps of the area and recalled the times in her career she’d filled in for vacationing subs working the area surrounding what some still call State Line. She was fearful if Riley Jarrett had somehow wandered off, because the 100-degree heat and desert terrain could exact a toll.
A radio crackled with a dispatch from the Metro Search and Rescue Unit a few moments in advance of the helicopter thumping, beginning an aerial search. Relieved, Jackson then contacted Metro dispatch to put Silver Sky Search and Rescue, the volunteer organization, on standby for a call to assist.
Her phone rang. “Lieutenant Jackson.”
“Detective Elsen.”
“Hi, Dan, what’s up?”
“Where’s the family now?”
Jackson put the call on speaker and checked her phone for any updates from Rogan or Aldrich. Nothing had changed.
“The family’s searching alongside Sagebrush staff.”
“Okay, we need to keep a visual on them.”
“Why?”
“We may have a lead.”
Seventeen
Nevada
Blake Marshall couldn’t shake his fear that the detectives knew something about Riley’s disappearance.
What do they know that they’re not telling us?
His gut was still knotted from their brutal questions—You ever strike Riley or abuse her?... Do you know where she is?... Are you in any way involved?—then seeing Grace losing it with the clerk at the store, and everything escalating.
Blake’s attention returned to the woman walking with him, in her twenties and kind of pretty. Lindy Hudson, one of the workers helping him search.
“We’ll go in here next,” she said. “I’m sure it’s all been searched but let’s still try.”
It was called the Silver Tortoise Emporium. Its long storefront had floor-to-ceiling windows displaying shelves, cases, racks and bins of artwork, collectibles, clothing, shoes and an array of souvenirs, from salt and pepper shakers to back scratchers. Before they entered, Blake’s phone vibrated and he stopped to check the message.
Hi Blake: It’s Claire Nakamura, Riley’s friend. Got your number from Dakota Lawson, who said something weird is going on with Riley. Is everything OK?
Blake responded: We’re just trying to reach her. If you talk to her tell her to call me or Grace, please.
OK but what’s going on? Isn’t she with you? Aren’t you guys driving across the country right now?
It’s complicated. Were you talking to her today?
Yes. Then she suddenly stopped texting and nobody can reach her.
How was she? What did she say?
That’s kinda private.
Please, Claire, I’m her stepbrother, and it’s urgent.
You’re scaring me.
Please just tell me what she said to you today.
She was pretty broken up leaving SD, Caleb, and was thinking her life was ruined.
Anything else?
Not really. Did she run away or something? This sounds ominous.
Just let me know if you hear from her, please Claire?
I will.
Blake lowered his phone and took a breath.
“You okay, Blake?” Hudson asked.
“I just want to find my sister.”
“Was that message helpful?”
“It was one of Riley’s friends wanting to help us.”
Hudson took stock of Blake, noticing how he averted his gaze. “Well, let’s go in here. It’s one of our largest stores. It’s near the Silverado. Maybe Riley stopped here to look for you guys, or to browse while thinking you’d find her here?”
Blake nodded and went with Hudson.
“What does she like to shop for?” Hudson asked. “Clothes? Shoes?”
Blake thought, then noticed the jewelry section and nodded to it.
They stopped at a display of Southwest-style jewelry with Blake looking at a bracelet made up of tiny turquoise-and-silver beads.
“She likes stuff like this. I saw her wearing similar things,” Blake said.
Hudson asked the sales clerk about Riley, showing her photos on her phone.
“Yes,” the clerk said. “We’ve had security here and police asking about her.” The clerk turned to Blake. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think she was here looking at jewelry.”
Nodding, Blake noticed the sign across the store for the electronics section and headed there with Hudson following him.
He went to the display of prepaid phones—burner phones.
Hudson stood next to him, glancing at the display then at Blake.
“Do you think she might’ve bought one of these to call you?” Hudson asked.
Blake took a moment as he looked over the phones. “It’s possible. She had some cash and a credit card.”
“Let’s check.”
Hudson went to the nearest clerk. “Brad,” according to his tag. Showing Riley’s picture, she asked Brad whether he’d seen her in here.
“We had cops in asking us about that earlier.” Brad shook his head. “Nobody saw her here. Sorry.”
As they left the counter, Hudson’s phone rang. She answered and listened while walking. “Yes.” She looked at Blake. “He’s with me right now in the Emporium.” Hudson listened a moment longer before her call ended.
“What is it?” Blake asked her.
“I don’t know, but they want you at the security office right now.”
Eighteen
Nevada
A transmission crackled over Jodi Hartell’s two-way radio in the parking lot, then she waved at Grace.
“They want you inside at security now,” Jodi said.
“Did they find her?”
“I don’t know. They just said for us to come in now.”
Nearly trotting to the entrance, Grace’s mind whirled with hope and dread.
Moving through the complex, weaving around travelers, Grace glanced up at Riley looking down from the information alert displayed on one of the large advertising screens. Grace pushed back tears. She couldn’t stop hoping that they’d found her; that she was moments away from taking her into her arms, screaming at her while crushing her to her heart and never letting go.
They left the retail area, hurrying into the administrative section of the Silver Sagebrush, moving swiftly down the hall toward the security office.
That’s when Grace’s pace slowed at the scene.
Several uniformed officers and security people were there, John and Blake among them. They’d turned to her, their faces sober. There was no sign of Riley.
Grace tensed. Something’s wrong.
She saw McDowell and Elsen wearing hardened expressions as she joined the group.
“Did you find her?” Grace asked. “What’s happening?”
Elsen looked at her then said, “Grace, John, Blake, would you each place your hands in front of you please.”
Confused for a moment, no one moved.
“Why?” John looked at the unsmiling faces of the Metro officers circled around them.
“Please,” McDowell said, “do as we request.”
Slowly, Grace, John and Blake extended their hands. Elsen nodded, then, with soft metallic clicks and snaps, handcuffed each of them.
“What the hell’s this?” John’s eyes widened, staring at his wrists, then at Elsen and McDowell.
“We’re placing all of you under arrest,” Elsen said.
“Under arrest? Why?” Grace’s voice broke.
“You’re each facing charges of conspiracy to possess narcotics with intent to distribute,” Elsen said.
“What?” John said. “This is ridiculous!”
“You have the right to remain silent...” McDowell read them their rights.
Staring at his wrists, Blake, on the verge of tears, shook his head in silence.
“Oh my God!” Grace repeated as officers began escorting them separately back into the same rooms where earlier they’d been questioned.
“We’ll be in to talk to each of you shortly,” McDowell said.
“This is wrong!” Grace shouted.
“You don’t know what you’re doing!” John yelled.
Blake remained silent.
* * *
Grace sat at the same desk in the same chair.
Her eyes swept over the same Best Mom Ever mug, the same framed photo of a happy family in Nova Scotia, the same calendar.
Only this time Grace wasn’t alone.
A uniformed female officer sat at a desk across the room, watching her.
“This is wrong,” Grace said. “We need to be looking for Riley!”
The officer said nothing.
“Drug charges? Drug charges. I don’t get it! Are they trying to frame us for something?”
The officer looked away before looking back. “Ma’am, I’m sorry I can’t say anything. It’s best if you don’t talk to me.”
“I can’t believe what’s happening!”
Feeling the weight of the metal around her wrists, Grace brushed at the tears rolling down her face, her bandages scraping against her skin.
Stressed, exhausted, trembling, her thoughts pulled her back to the start of her day, how she was anxious yet excited about moving, about a new chapter of their lives. Hours later, Riley goes missing, they crash and now she’s sitting here.
In handcuffs.
Facing criminal charges.
Not believing this was real.
Going numb.
Just like the day she sat beside Tim’s casket.
* * *
“This is bullshit!”
Nostrils flaring, chest heaving, John glared at the officer sitting in the corner of the room watching him.
“You’ve got to remain calm, sir.”
“Calm?” John lifted his handcuffed wrists. “My daughter’s missing and this is what you do to us?”
“The detectives will be here soon. Just hold on, sir.”
Hold on.
Blinking back his rage, lifting his head to the ceiling as his world continued to fracture, he was catapulted back to that night.
...the water roiling, waves and wind gnashing at the overturned hull, struggling to breathe. “Hold on! We can make it if we just hold on...”
* * *
They must know something.
Blake looked around the room then at the officer in the chair nearby, staring at her phone.
He looked at his wrists, encircled in metal. He’d never been handcuffed before. His throat was scratchy, and it hurt a little when he tried to swallow.
They definitely know something. Drug charges. This is freaking serious.
Nineteen
Las Vegas, Nevada
Anita Wells looked at the setting sun painting the sky coral as the lights of the Strip and the city twinkled below.
“You guys celebrating anything tonight?” their server asked while pouring their wine.
Anita turned to Jeff, her husband.
“Freedom,” he said, smiling. “We haven’t been out in a while. Swamped at work.”
“Well, enjoy,” their server said and left.
Anita and Jeff toasted their view from some eight hundred feet up at the Top of the World restaurant in the Stratosphere.
The wine was a dry, mildly fruity merlot from Napa.
“Good,” Anita said after a taste. “We haven’t been here in a long time.”
“I feel like we’re tourists.” Jeff took in the city lights and the mountains. “Almost forgot what a spectacular view this is. It feels good to get out. I was thinking this would be a good time to talk about things.”
“What would you like to talk about?” She smiled and took another sip.
“Starting a family.”
“Oh, well, that sounds—”
A cell phone vibrated. Jeff felt his jacket.
“No, it’s mine.” Anita set her glass down and reached for her purse.
“Can’t you let it go?” Jeff said.
“I wish. Sorry.”
She didn’t recognize the number when she answered. “Hello.”
“Anita Wells?”
“Yes, who’s calling?”
“Dan Elsen, Metro. We got something happening concerning a missing fourteen-year-old girl and a possible drug transport vehicle you should know about.”
“All right, hang on.” Anita reached for her purse and stood. “I need to take this over there.” She nodded to the bar. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
They were both busy professionals. Jeff was a surgeon. And, as the chief deputy district attorney for Clark County, who led the DA’s High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area team, Anita was always on call, too. Her team was part of a federally funded enforcement effort involving other agencies such as the FBI, the DEA. She found an empty stool at one end of the bar, out of earshot, took out her notebook and pen.
“Missing child. Go ahead, Dan.”
Elsen brought her up to speed on Riley Jarrett’s case, up to the tow yard and the dog’s relentless barking and focus on the RV.
“Turns out,” Elsen said, “Ranger’s a retired DEA drug detection dog that a friend’s dad gave to the kid. So we let Ranger investigate, and he reacted to the presence of drugs in the undercarriage of the RV.”
“Did you find any drugs?”
“No, but we found a couple heavy-duty bungee cords connected to the rear crossmembers and frame assembly that could’ve supported bundles.”
“Dan, the dog’s retired. He’s not certified.”
“We know. We called in a dog with the Narcotics Detail and our dog reacted the same way. We have detected the presence of drugs. So we’ve Mirandized the family. We’re holding them now.”
“Holding them for what? Where are you, exactly?”
“The Silver Sagebrush near Jean. My partner and I are calling from our car. We’ve got you on speaker.”
“But you found no drugs in the RV?”
“Correct but we’re checking with NHP to possibly track down who was present at the scene, and to search the scene, the debris and—”
“Hold on, Dan. You know you don’t have enough to hold or detain the family—not even on conspiracy. No cause for an arrest or charges based solely on your narcotics dog alerting to the possibility of drugs in a rented RV.”
“We know. But there are aspects we need to discuss. We know we can’t proceed with charges, but we want to use this as leverage because it raises suspicions about the family, about them being truthful about the circumstances concerning a missing juvenile.”
“Didn’t you run background on them?”
“We did. There are no criminal histories, no warrants and no complaints. We need to do more checking.”
“What’s the issue? You’re Missing Persons. You need to find the girl and from what you’re telling me, this family’s committed no crime.”
“Like I said, Anita, the drug thing leads us to believe that the family’s not being truthful, like they’re concealing something from us. Maybe they’re covering something up. We wanted to alert you and get your input.”
Tapping her pen on the bar, Anita let out a breath.
“Okay, I get it. As you are well aware, the volume of narcotics coming up from Mexico specifically through San Diego is heavy, wildly heavy. And you may have a case of a transnational shipment. Or not.”
“Right.”
> “But with criminal drug organizations, if someone involved, someone working for a cartel, loses their drugs, then it’s common for a family member to go missing and be held for return of the drugs, or for monetary value.”
“Ransom.”
“Yes. I’m not saying that’s the case here. These are just scenarios to consider. But based on what you’ve told me, you cannot charge this family with anything yet. It’s your call if you choose to use the drug factor to employ a strategy for questioning, but it sounds like you’re unsure of what you have at this stage and you have no grounds to hold them.”
“Correct.”
“It could also be a human trafficking situation. You’d mentioned the boyfriend—she could be a runaway. There’s that case of the murdered California girl who was found last year near State Line. You’ve got a world of possibilities. Above all, you’ve got a missing fourteen-year-old to find and one thing is certain.”
“What’s that?”
“You need to know more about this family, so you need them to open up and cooperate.”
Twenty
Nevada
“We don’t think you’re telling us the whole truth.” McDowell looked Grace directly in the eye.
Grace held her gaze then shifted to Elsen. He drew close, invading Grace’s space, forcing her to lean back, making her chair creak.
His voice soft, he asked: “Why were narcotics hidden in the RV?”
She didn’t respond.
Then he asked: “How are they linked to Riley?”
Her eyes gleaming with tears, Grace’s jaw began working but her words were delayed until she started slowly moving her head from side to side. “I don’t know anything about—”
“Grace,” McDowell said. “Are you transporting drugs for someone?”
“No!”
“Do these people have Riley?”
“I don’t know where she is! Why’re you doing this?”
“Did they threaten to harm her if you told police about the drugs?”
“Oh God, what’s happening? None of this is real!”
The handcuffs jingled as Grace raised her hands to her face.
