guys?”
Mike switched the cell phone to his left ear. His tone was sharp, “She’s not here, Jean. I haven’t found her yet.”
Mike sat in his car outside a small bed & breakfast in Ranch Springs. He had dreaded making this call.
Jean was stunned to silence on the other end, so Mike began to fill her in.
“Her car is here. It’s parked in an impound lot. No one claims to have seen Sara. The sheriff thinks she may have caught a ride to Laramie with another student.”
“That’s ridiculous, Mike,” Jean yelled into the phone. “Sara would have called us. She would have let us know, did you tell the police that?”
Mike leaned forward and rested his head against the steering wheel.
“Sara’s cell phone and purse we re on the front seat of the car,” he said. “The tow truck driver says that she was not with her car when he arrived.”
Jean was crying hysterically now. “Jesus Christ, Mike! Am I the only one who can see that something terrible has happened to our daughter? Are you really that blind?”
Mike sat back and rubbed his right temple, “Jean, getting hysterical is not going to---”
Jean exploded, “I am not hysterical, mister! I am afraid for my daughter!”
“I know, I know,” Mike said soothingly. “I’m sorry, honey. I am afraid, too. I need you to pack some clean clothes and bring them to me in the morning.”
Jean listened quietly, so Mike continued.
“Transfer our home phone to your cell phone so we don’t miss any calls, okay Jean?”
“Okay,” was Jean’s only reply.
“I’m in Ranch Springs at the…” Mike looked out the window at a dimly lit sign on the bed & breakfast. “Sightseer Inn. It’s just across the street from the only church in town. You’ll see it on the hill when you turn off the highway.”
Jean was crying now, “What have they done to my Sara, Mike? Why did you make her leave?”
Mike sat quietly before responding, “We’ll find her, Jean. We’ll bring her home.”
After listening to his wife’s sobs for several seconds, Mike added, “Jean, I want you to bring my Ruger and a box of ammo. Make sure the box says .45 caliber on it, and make sure it’s full, okay?”
“Okay,” was all she said. Mike noticed the exhaustion in her voice.
“I’ll see you in the morning, honey. We’ll find her, okay?”
Jean hung up the phone without responding.
twelve
The seasonal stream offered a quiet solitude with its reluctant trickle over moss covered rocks. Sara dipped her cupped palm into a narrow pool and brought the cool liquid to her lips. The water offered solace. It calmed a place in her soul that had been laid open to an acrid dimension she once thought existed only in fiction.
The sun was setting, feeding an instinctual desire to find shelter and safety, but Sara could not abandon this sanctuary. A smile turned the corners of her mouth and she eased herself to the ground to run a finger through the crystal surface of the brook. A water spider darted from its hiding place and skated across the face of the pool.
“EEK! Daddy, come look at this spider!”
F ive-year-old Sara squatted near the edge of a beaver pond and poked at the floating Fisher Spider with a long blade of Indian grass.
“What did you find, Sara?” Her father had always been interested in her thrilling discoveries.
“How does it do that, Daddy?” Sara asked. “How does the spider walk on water like
Mike switched the cell phone to his left ear. His tone was sharp, “She’s not here, Jean. I haven’t found her yet.”
Mike sat in his car outside a small bed & breakfast in Ranch Springs. He had dreaded making this call.
Jean was stunned to silence on the other end, so Mike began to fill her in.
“Her car is here. It’s parked in an impound lot. No one claims to have seen Sara. The sheriff thinks she may have caught a ride to Laramie with another student.”
“That’s ridiculous, Mike,” Jean yelled into the phone. “Sara would have called us. She would have let us know, did you tell the police that?”
Mike leaned forward and rested his head against the steering wheel.
“Sara’s cell phone and purse we re on the front seat of the car,” he said. “The tow truck driver says that she was not with her car when he arrived.”
Jean was crying hysterically now. “Jesus Christ, Mike! Am I the only one who can see that something terrible has happened to our daughter? Are you really that blind?”
Mike sat back and rubbed his right temple, “Jean, getting hysterical is not going to---”
Jean exploded, “I am not hysterical, mister! I am afraid for my daughter!”
“I know, I know,” Mike said soothingly. “I’m sorry, honey. I am afraid, too. I need you to pack some clean clothes and bring them to me in the morning.”
Jean listened quietly, so Mike continued.
“Transfer our home phone to your cell phone so we don’t miss any calls, okay Jean?”
“Okay,” was Jean’s only reply.
“I’m in Ranch Springs at the…” Mike looked out the window at a dimly lit sign on the bed & breakfast. “Sightseer Inn. It’s just across the street from the only church in town. You’ll see it on the hill when you turn off the highway.”
Jean was crying now, “What have they done to my Sara, Mike? Why did you make her leave?”
Mike sat quietly before responding, “We’ll find her, Jean. We’ll bring her home.”
After listening to his wife’s sobs for several seconds, Mike added, “Jean, I want you to bring my Ruger and a box of ammo. Make sure the box says .45 caliber on it, and make sure it’s full, okay?”
“Okay,” was all she said. Mike noticed the exhaustion in her voice.
“I’ll see you in the morning, honey. We’ll find her, okay?”
Jean hung up the phone without responding.
twelve
The seasonal stream offered a quiet solitude with its reluctant trickle over moss covered rocks. Sara dipped her cupped palm into a narrow pool and brought the cool liquid to her lips. The water offered solace. It calmed a place in her soul that had been laid open to an acrid dimension she once thought existed only in fiction.
The sun was setting, feeding an instinctual desire to find shelter and safety, but Sara could not abandon this sanctuary. A smile turned the corners of her mouth and she eased herself to the ground to run a finger through the crystal surface of the brook. A water spider darted from its hiding place and skated across the face of the pool.
“EEK! Daddy, come look at this spider!”
F ive-year-old Sara squatted near the edge of a beaver pond and poked at the floating Fisher Spider with a long blade of Indian grass.
“What did you find, Sara?” Her father had always been interested in her thrilling discoveries.
“How does it do that, Daddy?” Sara asked. “How does the spider walk on water like
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