by Tony Hayden
Mike stood back while Watts jimmied the jack into place under the Honda’s front axle and began working the screw. He looked toward the mountains. “I don’t get it, Ryan. You watch these movies where the main character always knows what to do and exactly where to be. Denzel sticks a bomb up some guy’s butt and gets all the information he needs. Liam Neeson shoots up a house full of bad guys to get his daughter back. And here I stand, a cop, without so much as a fucking clue whether I’m even in the right state or not.”
Watts sat back in the dirt and began loosening lug nuts. “Hell,” he said, grunting with exertion. “You don’t have to be in our line of work very long to realize bad situations rarely have happy endings.”
Mike deflated and turned away from the mountains.
Deputy Watts halted his work and stood. “Mike, you and I both know that abduction victims are usually murdered within hours of their disappearance. Guys like us rarely get to make the big rescue.” Watts brushed the dirt from his jeans. “Instead, we concentrate on finding the bad guys after the fact to ensure the cycle is broken.” He paused for a long moment before continuing. “We do everything in our power to make sure the next girl makes it to her destination safely. The reality of our work doesn’t make for a very exciting movie.”
Mike found a distant spot on the horizon to stare at. “I know,” was all he could think to say. “I can’t get my mind wrapped around Sheriff Barnes being a part of this. The sheriff I worked for for the past six years was an honorable man. He stood for everything that was good and moral, and he gave his life trying to protect his citizens.” Mike shook his head and blew a long breath through his nose, “Sometimes I think we are losing this battle.”
Deputy Watts rolled the spare tire over and set it into place on the wheel of the Honda. “I’m not convinced that Barnes is a part of this.” He began tightening the lugs with his fingers. “He may be covering something up, but I just can’t figure him for a serial killer.” Using the wrench, Watts tightened the lugs before unscrewing the jack. “I’ve got another theory that I am working on.”
Mike took the jack and lug wrench from Watts and followed him to the rear of the car. “What kind of theory?”
Deputy Watts lifted the flat tire into the trunk and stepped back for Mike to replace the tools to their proper locations. “I don’t feel comfortable sharing any details right now,” he said. “The timelines of these disappearances don’t add up, is all I’m saying.”
Mike stacked the luggage and stereo equipment back into the trunk before closing the lid. “Well,” he said. “I am waiting on some information from a friend of mine. I hope you will understand if I don’t include you in the events that that information leads to?”
Deputy Watts nodded and reached out to shake Mike’s hand. “Fair enough,” he said.
thirty-one
The cabin had become a place of comfort for Sara and she smiled when it came into view. She stood still for a moment and listened for any commotion that would reveal human presence. She heard nothing. Not a bird, or squirrel, or insect of any kind. The hairs on her neck straightened and a tingle raced down her spine. She stood dead still, afraid to move, not sure what had brought her nerves to the razor’s edge. On her right thigh, the sharp bite of a Horsefly shook Sara from her trance. She slapped at the fly and her foreboding slipped away with the retreating pest.
Sara wasn’t sure what had made her anxious. Nothing seemed disturbed at the cabin and the sounds of wildlife slowly began to invade her consciousness. She was scared, she knew that. The last few days and nights had changed her profoundly. She hoped that someday she would return to some semblance of her old self. Sara Haller; the girl who was afraid of nothing and always saw the good in people she met. Right now, she would settle for, Sara Haller; the girl sitting in a bath full of bubbles with a hot pizza on the table waiting to be eaten.
Sara opened the door to the cabin and stepped in. It was obvious she was alone and she sighed at the relief. Shaking the home-made shoes from her feet she froze in place. The note she had written to the owner of the cabin was crumpled into a ball on the floor next to the foot locker. Nausea flooded her stomach as the sweet odor of wood and spice and sour sweat filled her nostrils. The man who had raped her had been in the cabin. Uncontrollable fear convulsed through her body and Sara let out a blood curdling scream. The cabin closed in on her, like a dead-fall trap sprung by an unsuspecting prey, and Sara bolted for the door. Her vision narrowed. The doorknob was all she could see as she reached and flung the door wide open. The heavy-set ghoul, who she only knew as “Pop”, stood there, grinning at the inevitability of Sara’s fate.
Adrenaline surged through Sara’s veins and she ran straight for the man blocking her path to freedom. Arms out, she felt the broken bones in her left wrist snap as she made contact and sent Pop flailing backwards into a tangle of sagebrush. He grunted loudly as he hit the ground and yelled as Sara passed over him. “Jordan! She’s here!”
Sara hit the tree-line running full speed. Branches tore at her clothes and exposed skin. Rocks and pinecones failed to slow her as they worked to remove all flesh from her bare feet. The sun was setting quickly and Sara’s only inclination was to get as far away as she possibly could. She could use the darkness to her advantage and hopefully survive another encounter with these men who wanted her dead.
thirty-two
Mike sat at a spacious dining room table on the main level of the Sightseer Inn and absent mindedly sipped ice water from a crystal glass. Brian and Trina Lang had invited him to eat dinner since he was their only guest. The sun had set an hour earlier bringing an early autumn chill to the front range of Colorado. A crackling fire in the stone fireplace added a golden hue to the room.
Mrs. Lang placed dinner rolls on the table and sat close to Mike. “Has there been any word regarding your daughter?” Trina asked quietly.
Mike swirled the ice in his glass and thought for a moment. “No,” he finally said. “The search failed to turn anything up and the Sheriff seems to be washing his hands of the whole affair.”
Brian Lang stepped in from the kitchen and placed a dish of glazed baby carrots on the table, then took a seat across from Trina. “I understand that Sheriff Barnes has a witness who says two boys from Larimer County may have taken your daughter?”
Mike sat his glass down and took a plate of baked chicken from Mrs. Lang. “Thank you,” he said to Trina. “I talked to the sheriff’s witness and didn’t find him very credible. His story seemed,” Mike hesitated, “…manufactured. Maybe even a little coached.”
Mr. Lang took the plate of chicken from Mike. Refusing to break eye contact, he said, “That seems like a serious charge. Do you mind if I ask who the witness is?”
Mike thought for a moment. His boss, Sheriff Casey, suggested that Mike should act less like an officer of the law, and more like a concerned father. Mike took his advice. “The witness is a local farmer by the name of Connie Lohr. Do you know him?”
Both Brian and Trina Lang snickered. Trina spoke first. “Connie Lohr has been a drunkard for many years. I seriously doubt he had anything to do with the disappearance of your daughter.”
Mike shook his head. “I wasn’t suggesting he did. I just think his statement may have been contrived.”
Mr. Lang piped in, “Connie Lohr was a good kid. We all went to high school together. He and Hunter Barnes and Pastor Gary were good friends. Inseparable, really.”
Trina added, “They played football together. The Ranch Springs Riders were State Champions three years in a row back then.”
Mike spooned carrots onto his plate. “I wasn’t aware that Sheriff Barnes and Pastor Gary were such good friends. I haven’t seen them together once since I arrived in town.”
Brian Lang laughed. “Oh, they are not friends anymore. It seemed like after graduation, the close friendships just ended.”
Trina disagreed, “No, honey, I always said that something happened between those boys our senior year. It wasn’t
long after football season was over that Connie Lohr dropped out of school and began drinking.”
Mike was interested. “It’s hard to imagine Pastor Gary and Sheriff Barnes ever being good friends.”
Mr. Lang took a dinner roll and buttered it. “Gary Popineau was a hell raiser in high school.”
Trina interrupted, “Now, Brian, Pastor Gary is a good God fearing man. It doesn’t seem fair to bring up those days.”
Brian Lang shrugged, “I’m not passing judgment on the man, honey, I am simply stating a fact.” Mr. Lang turned to Mike, “Popineau, Lohr, and Barnes were mischievous young men. They set the Mayor’s barn on fire their junior year and no one said squat about it because they were winning football games. Nearly burned the Mayor’s family up.”
Trina laughed uncomfortably. “Boys will be boys,” she said. “They all settled down after high school and became very important citizens of our town. Well, except for Connie.”
Mike wanted more information. “What ended their friendship? I mean, I still drink beer with my old buddies. I can’t imagine anything that would break that bond.”
Mr. Lang stopped chewing his food and looked at his wife for a bit. Finally, he said, “I’m not really sure. Right after they won the State Championship in Castle Rock, they just stopped hanging out together.”
Trina continued for her husband. “That’s when Connie dropped out and Pastor Gary started going to church every Sunday. We were all very happy to see him accept Jesus and become our Pastor.”
Mike asked, “What happened to Barnes after this falling out?”
Brian Lang shook his head and shrugged. “Nothing really,” he said. “He was always a bully of sorts. If he had a problem with someone, he made it his mission to straighten that person out. He’s the only one who is the same person today that he was back then. Unshakable.”
thirty-three
Sara Jean Haller crouched low in a thicket of huckleberry and tried unsuccessfully to stop her body from trembling. The night’s cold seeped deep into her core and the fear she felt threatened to trigger another flight response, sending her crashing through the forest straight into the hands of her antagonists. Her left arm was now useless. The splint had vanished shortly after her collision with Pop back at the cabin, and the bones were now completely separated, causing great discomfort. Her feet were bloody and bruised and the knife wound under her right breast had reopened and was now bleeding profusely. She wanted to scream out for help, but she knew that the only ones who would hear her, were the two men trying to murder her.
Twigs broke and Sara froze in place. Movement caught her eye as a man stepped into a narrow clearing to her right. The moon slipped from behind a small cloud and illuminated the man’s features. He was large, like Pop, but carried himself with a little more confidence. A bit taller. When the man turned, Sara saw the Sheriff’s uniform and was ready to leap from the bushes with joy.
“Jordan!” the man yelled.
Sara drew back, horrified that this police officer had just called out the name of her attacker. She used her free hand to cover her own mouth to keep the cries from escaping. Tears fell from her cheeks.
“Jordan! Have you found her yet?” The lawman turned at the sound of more twigs breaking. Jordan and Pop entered the clearing.
Jordan answered timidly. “Not yet, sir. We lost her blood trail about a quarter mile back.”
Pop seemed angry. “What are you doing here, Hunter?”
The man in uniform stepped close to Pop. “I am cleaning up another one of your damn messes, Gary.” The men went nose to nose. “You brought my son into your sick world and now this whole fucking thing is going to fall on our heads like a ton of bricks.”
“Please watch your language, Sheriff Barnes,” Pop said. “The Lord frowns on such vulgar language.”
Sheriff Barnes seemed incensed. “And what does the Lord think about you killing young women, Pastor Popineau? Does He frown on rape and murder as well?”
“The Lord speaks to us in strange ways, Hunter,” Popineau said. “After you and I and Connie had our way with that little girl in Castle Rock the night of our game, the Lord showed me my calling.” Popineau stepped back and raised his hands to the sky. “Do you remember the stories of that girl’s family? They found Jesus after their daughter disappeared. Through adversity, man finds God!” he yelled. Popineau stepped to Barnes and placed his hands on the Sheriff’s shoulders. “You and Connie and I saved that family. We were merely a tool of Jesus. Don’t you realize this, Hunter?”
Sheriff Barnes pulled away. “I realize that you are out of control, Gary,” Barnes seethed. “I should have put an end to this when I discovered you trying to sell that boy’s Toyota pickup for scrap.”
“But you didn’t!” Popineau yelled. “You didn’t, because when Pastor Gary falls, so falls the almighty Sheriff Barnes. And now, your step-son falls too. Don’t you see?” Popineau raised his arms to the sky again. “It is all God’s glorious plan.”
Sara struggled to contain her horror. Her legs had gone numb from squatting so long and it was all she could do to maintain her balance. Jordan had walked away from the men and was now standing directly in front of her. His eyes were wandering over the trees behind her. Sara looked to the ground, fearing that staring at Jordan would somehow cause him to look at her.
“When this is over, Gary, I want you to leave Ranch Springs.”
“Or what?” Popineau laughed.
Sheriff Barnes pulled his weapon and pointed it directly at Pop’s face, “Or I will kill you where you stand. Are we clear?”
Pastor Gary deflated. “Of course, Hunter. I should have expected that. Let’s find this girl, and then you and I will talk about the future.”
Jordan turned and finally spoke. “The girl’s note said that she was going to walk north to Highway Fourteen and flag down a car.”
Pop laughed. “Well, she ran the wrong direction then. Let’s go back to the cabin and come up with a plan to track her down before morning.”
Sara watched as the men moved out of the clearing and headed back the way they came. After fifteen minutes of silence, her legs finally gave out and she fell to the ground crying.
thirty-four
“Do you remember when grandpa died?”
“Of course I remember. You were four years old and you were the star that lit his sky. Do you really remember him?”
Sara giggled. “Grandpa would sing me to sleep when you had to work nights. And we built forts out of couch cushions and he would always find me when we played hide-and-seek.”
“I’m surprised that you remember him. You were so little when he passed away.”
“Were you angry with grandpa when he died?”
“No, no. I was never angry with him. I was sad. My heart ached for years after he passed, but I never once felt anything but love for him.”
“You won’t be angry when I die?”
“Sara, sweetie, don’t talk like that. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
“Promise that you will only feel love for me?”
“Sara, no, please stop this. I am going to find you. You are going to be okay. I am going to find you. Please don’t say things like that.”
“Your phone is ringing.”
“I won’t answer it. Just stay with me. Everything will be okay.”
“Don’t be angry with me.”
“Sara.”
Mike rolled over in bed and fumbled with the items on the night stand. His cell phone stopped ringing just as he knocked it to the floor. “Dammit!” He looked at the small clock radio; 3:30am. “Dammit!” he said again as he tried to focus his eyes to read who had called. “Area code 602. Who the hell could that be?” he asked himself as the phone began ringing again.
Mike turned on a bedside lamp and answered, “Hello!” he said angrily. The fading dream had troubled him deeply.
“Mike, this is Harry. Pull your ass out of bed, it’s time to go to work.”
Mike sat
up. Fully awake now, he asked, “Did you get any information for me, Harry?”
“Oh yes,” Harry said. “That little fucker is lying to you. Do you have a map?”
Mike jumped out of bed. “Yes,” he said. Scrambling to unfold a topographical map he had purchased at the mall in Ft. Collins, he demanded, “Tell me what you have.”
“Okay,” Harry said. “The tow truck sat idle in Ranch Springs from 11:45am until 2:42pm at the corner of Highway 287 and Ranch Springs Road.”
Mike was writing furiously. “That is the only restaurant in town. Jordan told the sheriff that he was busy at the impound yard until after 4:00pm.”
Harry snickered, “Like I said, the little fucker is lying. At 2:42pm, the vehicle moved north on Highway 287 for about three miles where it sat idle for twenty-three minutes.”
Mike continued writing. “I knew it!” he seethed. “Sara was three miles north of Ranch Springs when she called for help.” Mike pounded on the end table with his fist. “There were no redneck boys from Larimer County. Connie Lohr was lying. Everyone in this town has been lying.”
Harry Pennington cautioned, “Settle down, Mike. Get your wits about you. You’re going to need them.”
Mike took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, then stood again. “You’re right. I’m calm. What else do you have?”
“At 3:09pm the truck moved south on Highway 287, then turned west on Ranch Springs Road. It traveled about one-and-a-half miles west where it stopped for eleven minutes.”
Mike held his forehead. “That would be the impound yard. Would eleven minutes be enough time to park and unhook Sara’s car from the truck?”
Harry answered, “For a young man who is highly motivated to get away from a populated area, I would say eleven minutes probably felt like a lifetime.”
