CHAPTER 1
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Ryan
Foster paced the floor in a tight semi-circle that seemed to get
narrower each time he passed the telephone on the small table between
the living room and the dining area. With each pass, he’d
pause near the table, look down at the phone, run his fingers through
his hair, glance first at the clock, and then at the address book in
his hand. When he resumed pacing for the fourth time, Gloria spoke up.
“For
God’s
sake, Ryan, if you don’t
call him, I will.”
“I
will,” he said emphatically. “You heard the dispatcher. They aren’t
going to get too excited about it this early. I’m
sure she is okay and she’ll call if we give her a couple more
minutes.” Even as he said the words, the look on his face seemed to
belie them, and Gloria knew it.”
“I
just knew it. She’s
too young. I tried to tell you, but no …,” she said.
“Okay,
okay. You’ve made yourself real clear on that, Gloria.”
“Well,
then, call him. I mean it.” She got up from the chair and stepped
toward him with her hand out. “Give me the phone. I’ll get him out
there.”
Ryan
held out his arm as if to block her path to the phone. He turned and
picked up the receiver and dialed the number written in the address
book. After several rings, he said, “Come on Sheriff, answer the
phone, damn it.”
“Hello.”
“Rick.
Thanks for answering. This is Ryan Foster. Sorry to bother you at home
on a weekend, but we need your help. Marcy is missing over at the
coast, and Gloria and I are scared. She’s
not answering her cell, and I can’t
seem to get the Mendocino Sheriff’s
Office excited about a missing teenager. I know something is terribly
wrong.”
“Sure,
Ryan. What happened?”
“She
went over to Big River Park with some friends for a picnic at the
beach. About 6:00 pm, she went back to her friend’s
car to
recharge her
cell phone,
and she never came back to the group. The others packed up and went to
the parking area looking for her and found the car, but no-one was
around. I understand young girls go off with boyfriends and the
sheriff isn’t
going to call out the dogs for a
seventeen-year-old
girl who is a few hours late, but I know her, and I can tell you
something’s
really wrong. I’m
leaving to go over there now myself, and I know you and Mendocino
Sheriff Dan Gleason are friends. I’ve only met him once or twice. I
thought you might get him to have one or two deputies put in some time
to help out a fellow cop.”
“You are right. I remember Marcy, and it doesn’t seem like her. If
there is an emergency, time might be really important.”
“Thanks,
Rick. I hope I’m wrong and I’ll owe you and Sheriff Gleason both an apology later.”
“That
won’t
be necessary. Are you going to be on the radio while you drive over?”
“Yes,
and I’ll have my
cell phone.”
Moments later, Ryan was on his way to the location his daughter was
last seen, an
hour-
and-
a-
half drive to the California North Coast. Since he was
the Commander of the Clear Lake
California
Highway Patrol
(CHP)
Area, he was on call 24/7, and for that reason, he had an unmarked
sedan for emergencies. Although this was not an official
call, in his
mind it was an emergency, and he turned on the red light, and urged
the Crown Victoria quickly forward across the winding mountain roads
leading to the coast highway.
Fifteen minutes or more passed, and the radio came to life. “7-L,
Ukiah dispatch,” the CHP radio blared.
Ryan
quickly grabbed the two-way radio microphone from it’s
cradle, “This is 7-L, go ahead, Ukiah.” The urgency of his voice
betrayed his attempt to hide his concerns.
“7-L,
Mendocino Sheriff advises two sheriffs’
units are
en route to the location.”
Ryan
was relieved that Lake County Sheriff Rick Sanders had been able to
get his counterpart in Mendocino County to give the disappearance
serious consideration, even if only as a favor to a fellow law
enforcement
commander. He breathed a
little easier at the thought that law enforcement help was
en route and would be on
the scene well before he got there.
He
drove on in silence. Every time he looked at his watch it showed that
he was only a few minutes closer than before, and he cursed the windy
mountain road. About forty minutes later, the radio blared again,
“7-L; Ukiah.
Again,
Ryan nearly pounced on the microphone. “This is 7-L, Ukiah, go
ahead.”
“Your
current location?”
“I’m
on Highway 128 two miles west of Boonville.”
After
a moment, the radio continued, “Mendocino Sheriff Gleason will meet
you at Route 128 and Highway 1.”
“10-4,” he said. “I didn’t expect the Sheriff himself to get
involved.”
As he
rolled up to the intersection some time later, there was a marked
sheriff’s
unit in the turnout. As he pulled in behind the unit, Gleason got out
of the passenger door and began walking toward his car. A uniformed
deputy sat behind the steering wheel and didn’t get out.
Ryan
got out of his car and met Gleason between the vehicles. “Thanks for
everything you are doing, Dan, but I never expected … .” He stopped in
his tracks when he saw the anguish in Gleason’s
face. “You aren’t here
for that, are you Dan?”
“This
is the toughest thing I’ve ever done, Ryan.” He gulped and paused to
moisten his lips. “They found Marcy.”
“Is …
she … okay?”
“I’m
sorry, Ryan. I’m
so sorry. It’s
a crime scene. You shouldn’t go there.”
CHAPTER 2
Ryan’s
knees buckled and he leaned hard against the fender of the car. “Oh,
my God, No! Not Marcy!”
“I am
so sorry, Ryan. The Department of Justice crime lab is on the way,
and I’ve got my best guys called out. We’ll solve this. Just give us
time.”
“Murdered?” was all his broken voice could force through his trembling
lips.
“Yes,”
Gleason said in a barely audible voice.”
Ryan
didn’t feel the need to ask for details at this moment. The look on
Gleason’s
face spoke of facts too familiar from his own 28 years of law
enforcement. Marcy’s
luck had simply run out. There, in that most tranquil Pacific Coast
setting of warm soft sand and sea grasses caressed by gentle ocean
breezes, serenaded by the tranquility of the ever present surf, one
young girl’s
innocence had crossed paths with the personification of pure evil.
Yes,
he knew the story; he’d
seen it played out dozens of times with other children,
and other parents; and now it was going to be his turn to cope with it
… or not.
Ryan
stepped away from the men and walked to the edge of the highway. For
several minutes he stood and stared in silence at the ocean bluffs in
the distance,
as the surf relentlessly pounded the rocks below them. Gleason and the
deputy, who had gotten out of the car, looked at each other, neither
knowing what to say to a man who had just heard the worst news either
could imagine.
Occasionally, Ryan slammed his fist into the open palm of his hand,
cursing beneath his breath. After a few minutes, he returned to the
other men and said, “I want to see her. Take me there, please.”
“I
suspected you would,” Gleason said with resignation. “If you don’t
mind, I’ll drive your car.”
“Of
course. Sure. I understand.”
Gleason motioned at the Deputy, who got back into the patrol car and
waited to lead the way. Once Ryan and Gleason were in Ryan’s
car, both vehicles pulled out onto the highway at a much slower pace
than before.
“Ryan,” Gleason said. “It’s
okay not to do this. If at any time you aren’t comfortable, I’ll
understand if you want to stop or leave.”
“I’ll
be okay on that, but I’ll never accept that my beautiful daughter is
dead,” he said through painful tears. “Tell me what you know.”
“Our
first officer at the scene began to trace her steps from the beach to
her friend’s
car, and found her body hidden in the bushes about
thirty feet
from the parking area. We have the Department of Justice Crime Scene
Investigators en route, so we didn’t contaminate the scene after he
confirmed she was dead.”
“There’s
little or nothing to see, until DOJ processes the scene, so please
don’t contaminate the scene. You know if it was anyone else, I’d
never let you near it.”
“Thanks,
I won’t do
anything. I just want to see her and say goodbye.” After a few
moments, he asked, “Was she … ?” He choked back the words, but Gleason
knew what he wanted to know.
“I was
only there for a moment, so I can’t
be certain, but the deputy who found her said it does appear the
perpetrator was alone, and probably did sexually assault her, but it
looked like she fought him to the end. He should be scratched up
pretty good. We will know more after the autopsy.”
Ryan
cringed hard, and didn’t ask any more questions. He stared out the window into the
darkness of the road ahead. Occasionally, he uttered, “Oh God,” in a
barely discernable voice. Gleason knew there was nothing he could say
to ease the pain, so he just drove in silence.
Finally, he said, “Do you think you should notify your wife?”
“Shit,” Ryan said, as he pondered the hell he was going to face when
Gloria was told the news. “I’ll
take care of it afterwards. This is going to be bad. We’ve been having
problems for a while, and this is going to send her over the edge.
She is going to blame me because we had a big fight about whether
Marcy should be allowed to come over here with her older teenage
friends. I convinced her to let her come, and now … she’s
… dead.” His voice trailed off into tears as they drove the rest of
the trip in silence.
Ten
minutes later they turned off of Highway 1 and quickly arrived at the
beach parking area. Both cars pulled up to the crime scene tape that
cordoned off the entire western end of the beach and parking area.
There were three cars parked inside the taped off area. Ryan
recognized his daughter’s
best friend’s
car, in which Marcy had ridden over to the beach, and another car he’d
seen around with her daughter’s
friends. It appeared they were sequestered until the
investigators
had the opportunity to look them over for clues. “Nice job of
protecting the scene for possible clues,” Ryan thought to himself.
The
third car was the marked patrol car of the first
deputy
on scene, who had found her body. It is also common to leave the first
responder vehicle where it stopped to prevent it from wiping out
possible clues when backtracking.
Ryan
and Gleason approached the roped off area cautiously and gently moved
under the taped barrier. Gleason led Ryan through the brush-lined path
to a point where he could see the body,
twenty feet
from the path, covered by a yellow plastic blanket, and stopped. Upon
sight of the blanket covered body, Ryan put both hands up to his face,
and wiped the tears from his eyes.
“I
think this is as close as we ought to get, Ryan. We want this guy
really bad, and we don’t
want to disturb the sand along the path. There might be clues.”
“Okay.”
Gleason stepped away to give him a moment
to grieve alone. Ryan cupped his hands, covering his nose and
mouth, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly into his hands. “God, I
know we don’t talk much, but if you are there, you’d better fix this.
I’ve been a righteous man … a cop … I’ve fought the battle for good
over evil all my life. Why would you bring this to my doorstep? You
know me. You know I’m not going to put up with this. You know this
won’t be the end of it for me. If you want to save my soul from hell,
fix this … NOW!” He looked briefly upward again, then back at the
body, staring at the blanket, waiting for it to move and for Marcy to
sit up.
He
stood there, transfixed, for what seemed an eternity, as if waiting
for God to deliver on a secret pact they had just made. His eyes
closed and his jaw tightened to mask his pain, as his face struggled
to hide the depth of his growing pain and anger. He slowly drew in and
inhaled a full breath deep into his lungs, exhaling slowly and
deliberately,
while his face became flushed with inner rage.
Then, forced to accept the truth in front
of him, he abandoned the void between faith and reality, turned and
slowly walked back toward his car. “Then that’s how it will have to
be.” he muttered as he walked away. Once inside the car, he leaned
against the steering wheel, buried his face in his forearms, and
sobbed uncontrollably.
As the rising moon from the east broke over the coastal mountain
range, it cast an eerie glow over the Big River beach. The waves
pounding the shoreline seemed to glow in the reflected twilight,
illuminating the crime scene tape that now adorned the once tranquil
park. And, just as the surf on that day forever changed that
landscape, so too, had Ryan Foster’s life changed, not for the better,
and he knew that somewhere out there was a dead man walking.
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