BITTER MEMORIES: A Memoir of Heartache & Survival (5 page)

Six

1955 – Lubbock, Texas

Jack sat on the cedar bench whittling on a piece of pine when Henry drove up and parked in front of the house. Henry got out of his car and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. 

It was the end of November, very cold, and nearing a year since Eli had vanished with Sarah. No one understood how Eli could disappear like he had. Not one solid lead had crossed Henry’s desk in all that time. 

Jack glanced up briefly as Henry entered the gate and sauntered over to the bench. He sat down next to Jack and, even though he knew the answer, he asked, “Dad, you heard anything?”

“Not a word, son.” Jack shook his head, not looking up. “The womenfolk are in the kitchen. Violet, of course, is worried to death and her sister still isn’t helping with
her
take on the situation.”

He stopped whittling; shook his head again. “I just don’t understand how my daughters can be so mean to each other. You’d think Barbara would want to comfort her sister, but nooo! All she does is argue, making Violet, and your mother, cry constantly. I just don’t understand her, Henry. It’s terrible to wish my own daughter hadn’t come home. I wish she’d just stayed in Dallas.”

Sitting under the tree was Jack’s retreat from the bickering and sobbing. He didn’t want to make the situation harder on his wife or Violet, and the only way he could hold his tongue was by getting out of the house.

“Do you have any news, Henry?”

“No, Dad, I don’t. We haven’t had any responses in months. The APB was posted nationwide; you’d think
someone
had seen them! If only I knew which direction he headed, or where he planned on stopping, I’d go there and wait.”

Jack studied his son’s face. His voice was shaky when he asked, “Do you really believe we’ll find them?”

“Of course I believe it, Dad! We
will
find him, and when we do…” Henry broke off, not wanting to worry his dad with what he’d thought of doing to Eli.

Jack, still whittling away, read his son’s thoughts. “You’ll have to stand in line, Henry. I want first crack at that low-down sonuvabitch.”

Henry had thought much worse than
low-down sonuvabitch
, even though he hadn’t said it out loud. For starters, he’d wring Eli’s scrawny neck, cut his balls off and shove them up his ass…but first, he had to be found.

If only Eli wasn’t so damn devious
, Henry thought. But, he knew Eli would make a mistake sooner or later, and when he did…

“I’m going in, Dad. I have to tell Violet I don’t have any news.” Standing, he looked around the yard and tried to decide what he’d say. “You coming in, Dad?”

“No. I think I’ll stay here a while longer. You go on, son. Violet’s waiting for you.” Jack didn’t look up, but continued working on his piece of wood that was getting smaller and smaller. Whittling had been his way of handling stress for years, and he knew he’d need a lot more—and much larger—pieces of wood to subdue this stress. 

Henry took a deep breath before opening the door and going inside. “If only there was some good news for a change,” he muttered. But, Eli had gotten too much of a head start, and he knew the ten-and-a-half months were definitely against them. 

It had been about two years to the date since Eli first kidnapped Sarah. Unlike the last time, Eli had said just enough to alert Jack that something wasn’t right. That night, Jack had gone to bed at his regular time, but he didn’t sleep.

He’d stayed awake listening for any sounds out of the ordinary. When he heard the front door squeak, he jumped
up, and ran outside just in time to see Eli as he scrambled into the car and drove away with Sarah. After watching the direction Eli turned, Jack had called Henry immediately. It was that quick response that prevented Eli from getting out of the city before a patrol car pulled him over, then detained him until Henry could get there.

“I saved Sarah that night. But this time…damn it!”

Violet sat at the kitchen table with her mother and sister, crying as she had been for months. She jumped up, almost tipping her chair over, when her brother entered the room.

She searched his face for any sign, and not seeing what she looked for, she knew the answer, but found it too difficult to admit, and asked between sobs, “Did you find her, Henry? Did you find my baby girl?”

“Not yet, sis, but we’re still searching. He will make a mistake, eventually, and when he does, we’ll find her. I promise, we
will
find her, Violet.” 

Henry acted calm while fighting back his own tears, and thought: I’m a cop, damn it! I’ve seen everything. I learned to disconnect myself. Keep emotions out. Be objective. See all angles of a crime. I can’t let myself be drawn in. I have to be strong! But damn it! Hurting a child…that, I just can’t handle.

He put his arm around Violet, and whispered, “Vi, I’ll bring her home. You can count on that. You can count on me.”

More days, weeks and months went by without a word. Violet continued to drink more and more, and Barbara’s hostility was relentless. Jack began to tire of it all, and Margaret, at her wits end, didn’t know what to do.

Jack tried to referee, and although he wasn’t a violent man, he had to fight the impulses of slapping his daughters, landing them both on their keesters. Jack and Margaret looked as if they’d aged ten years since Sarah’s disappearance. 

Driving to the station, Henry wondered if he’d be able to keep his promise. Would the FBI find Sarah so he could bring her home? And, the questions he didn’t want to think about, but knew were a possibility, would they find her unharmed? Had she been molested? Was she still alive…? 

“No! I can’t think about that now! I’m too close to this case, but how can I step aside? I have to stay involved. I have to keep my promise! Somehow
I
have to find Sarah, and
I
have to bring her home—
safe
.” 

Henry gazed toward Heaven, and whispered, “Please help me, Lord. She’s just a little girl. We love her so much. Please, help me find her.” He kept asking himself over and over again, “How can a man vanish with a three year old? You’d think someone— somewhere—has seen them!” 

He’d solved hundreds of cases with less to go on. But, he had to believe someone would call, and they’d state they’d seen a man fitting Eli’s description with a little girl who looked like Sarah.

“And, they’ll say the little girl appears okay,” he whispered.

Pulling into his parking spot:
H. Frye, Detective Sergeant
, he took a copy of the flyer sent to the FBI out of his inside suit pocket, and asked himself, “Is there something I forgot to list? Is that why no one’s called? I must’ve left out something…some very important detail needed for someone to notice the bastard! I know the pictures of Sarah and Eli were the most recent at the time.”

He looked over the flyer.

“Damn it! I can’t find anything missing!” 

Getting out of his car, he shoved the paper into his pocket and went into the station. Sitting down at his desk, he pulled the flyer back out, and went over every word again. 

ABDUCTED — HAVE YOU SEEN ME?

Name/Race
:  Sarah Freedman – Caucasian Female

DOB
:  1/12/1951      
AGE
:  3

Hair
:  Light brown

Eyes
:  Blue

Height
:  3’ 2”

Weight
:  32 lbs.

DATE MISSING: 
January 24, 1954

SUSPECT
:  Victim’s Father

Name/Race
:  Eli Freedman – Caucasian Male

DOB
:  8/20/1922

Hair
:  Black

Eyes
:  Blue-grey

Height
:  6’

Weight
:  135 lbs.

Vehicle
:  1949 Charcoal Grey

4-door Hudson

License # 40 – 728

CALL: 
Lubbock Police Department

Hot Line:  (555) 455-4455

Victim may now have short hair and/or dyed

a different color. If you think you see this little girl

or her father please call.

REWARD FOR ANY INFORMATION

LEADING TO THE APPREHENSION OF THE SUSPECT

“Everything’s listed. Damn it! They have to stop for gas; for food! Why aren’t people more observant!?” Frustrated, Henry went into the back office to check the teletype.

Still nothing. 

Returning to his desk, he buried his head in his hands until he heard a light tap at his door. Looking up, Captain Miller stood in the doorway.

“Henry, anything new on the tele?” 

“No, Cap. Nothing. It’s been so long. I keep asking myself—why hasn’t he been spotted? Why hasn’t anyone called?”

“Don’t beat yourself up, Henry. You know this type of case can take years to solve. You’re doing everything possible.”

“But there has to be something I’m missing, Jake. There has to be!” Henry shook his head. 

“How’s your sister doing?”

“Bad shape. Her drinking’s only gotten worse, and she’s become promiscuous. She says drinking’s the only thing that stops the empty, lost feelings. I’m worried she’ll hurt herself, or someone else, drinking and driving.” Henry paused, shaking his head.

“Barbara’s still living at the house. Almost every night they get into fist fights, and Mother calls me to break ‘em up. I don’t want to lock her up again, but damn it, I may have to.”

“Well, hang in there. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Jake smiled.

Henry nodded and returned the smile as Jake Miller left his office. He usually kept his personal life separate, but his captain wasn’t just his boss. Jake was also a long-time friend. Ever since the day they met at the academy, they’d been close. 

“If there’s anyone I can talk to, it’s Jake,” Henry whispered as the phone rang. 

“Detective Frye.”

“Henry, – ave – you – heard – anyting – anyting – atall – bout – my – baby?” Violet’s words were slurred.

Shocked, Henry thought: how in the hell did she get drunk so fast? I’ve only been gone from the house an hour. Also—where is she?

“No, Vi, not yet. I’m sorry.”

“Henry…” she began to cry.

“Vi, how much have you had to drink?”

After a long silence, with spite, she answered, “Not – you – too – dear – brother! I – never – shtopped – from – lasht – night! – If – it’s – any – of – your – bishness!”

Violet then slammed down the phone and, Henry, stunned, listened to the dial tone in his ear for several minutes before putting the receiver back on the cradle. She hadn’t seemed drunk an hour ago, he thought.

He knew alcoholics can have moments of clarity before taking that next drink. Early on in their illness, that was one of the ways an alcoholic fooled family and friends from finding out about their problem.

“What am I gonna do with her?” Henry shook his head. “I can’t let this go on.” Getting up from his chair, he picked up his hat, turned off the lights, and left the office.

He’d always kept a bottle of Jack Daniel’s tucked underneath the front seat of his car for times when he needed a quick belt. Climbing behind the wheel, he pulled the fifth of whiskey from under the seat, and muttered, “This
is
one
of those times when I really need a drink.”

He started to remove the cap, then paused. Feeling he’d rather be around other people at the moment, he slid the bottle back under the seat, deciding to go to Barney’s Tavern, a little hole in the wall place across town that had been his favorite watering hole for years.

Pulling out of the parking lot, he hoped some of his buddies from the station would still be at Barney’s. Turning onto the highway, he mumbled, “I need distractions. I
need
to get my mind off my sisters, Eli and Sarah.” 

When a Tex Ritter song came on the radio he turned the volume up. He tried not to think about anything except the scratchy-sounding voice of ol’ Tex, but instead, he thought back to the first time Sarah had heard Tex Ritter singing. It had been about six months before her disappearance. She’d laughed and said, “Uncle Henry, he sounds funny.” 

So many things reminded him of Sarah. She’d been so full of joy and laughter… “God,” he whispered, pulling up to the tavern. “I’ll kill that sonuvabitch if he hurts her.”

Henry walked into the tavern, waited for his eyes to adjust to the low light, then looked around for anyone he knew. “Shit! No one’s here,” he mumbled under his breath.