A Few Days in a Canyon Chapter 5
By the time they were dressed, two young boys were waiting—sons of the man from the café. Their shyness evaporated when Grissom shook their hands, called them by name, and handed each boy some type of badge. Sara dropped behind the three as the boys chattered about events of their world. Before reaching the house, the younger boy slowed, reached back and took Sara's hand, giving her a toothless smile.
Breakfast followed introductions—Grissom making the first one of wife, her mother, and an aunt. Don introduced each child—there were five. Everyone sat around the table taking up most of the crowded space in the small house. Sara spooned food on her plate, eggs and tortillas, creamy soft cheese and beans, chopped tomatoes. She could not talk—voices were constantly asking if she wanted more. A quiet little girl offered her a bowl of brightly colored cereal from a box she held. All Sara could do was respond with a shake or nod, yes or no, a thank you. She was the new attraction in this household.
Grissom and Don carried on their own conversation, about tourists, of seasonal flooding, of life in the community.
Don heard raised voices before anyone, opening the door before the sounds alerted others. In an instant, all was quiet as desperate cries were met on the porch. Grissom was close behind him.
Sara heard "lost child" and quickly joined the two on the porch, taking time to express thanks to the women who had suddenly become serious and quiet. The wife gathered a jacket, a small pack, and a water bottle for her husband. This was not the first search for this community.
The frantic camper relayed efforts of others to find the child before coming into the village. Grissom and Sara returned to the campground with the woman, stopping in their room for a few items.
At the campground, hysteria and mayhem had taken over. The crying mother tried to answer questions from a dozen others rarely finishing one answer before another question was asked. Sara looked at Grissom as he stood at the edge of the crowd.
"We need to organize. The locals know what to do, but we can do a few things."
With his statement, he stepped into the crowd, calling for quiet. His voice stopped the clamor and questions. Grissom knew the local men would arrive on horses and with tracking dogs. Several people arrived from the falls, shaking heads when everyone looked in their direction.
"Take the mother near their tent," Grissom whispered to Sara. "Get something for the scent dogs."
Sara moved the woman away from the group. One man reported on their search near the water—finding nothing. By the time he finished, the first of the local men had arrived on horseback with two small dogs. Grissom left the group and found Sara talking to the parents. She had a folded red shirt.
"The girl wore this yesterday. She's wearing green pajamas. Her flip flops are missing."
Without saying a word, Grissom took the shirt to the searchers. Sara continued talking to the parents, calmly asking questions. The tent flap was open when they woke. Thinking the child had gone to the campground bathroom, they were not alarmed—their daughter had been camping from an early age. Thirty minutes passed before the mother went in search of the child.
Searchers were given metal whistles, a description of the child, and a detailed trail map along with cautions to call others if they found or heard anything. The scent dogs picked up a trail from tent to the campground bathroom, and then followed a trail to the river where a shallow, fast flowing current stopped the dogs. Foliage was thick tangled brush to the water's edge.
Sara and Grissom watched from the campground as people spread out. "How long has she been missing?" He asked.
"At least two hours, counting the thirty minutes before the parents realized she was missing. Probably longer." Sara turned away from the river.
"They will find her." Grissom said. "Let's see what else we might do." He watched a few minutes as horses and riders entered the water and started downstream. Searchers on foot waded upstream while others fanned out along trails, all calling the girl's name.
Grissom knelt in front of the mother. He asked questions about her daughter—had she played with any children, was anything missing, could Sara look in their tent. The woman could barely answer his questions, but after someone handed a cup of coffee to her, she became more coherent, giving a nod to Sara.
Inside the tent, Sara found a jumble of bedding and clothes. While carefully lifting clothing, opening backpacks, she immediately smelled a body order—urine—and when she moved a small sleeping bag, she found wet green pajamas bottoms. She called out to Grissom who appeared at the entrance to the tent.
"She wet her pajamas." Sara gathered up little girl's clothing and took them to the mother. "Can you tell us what's missing? I found her pajama bottoms in the sleeping bag."
The mother picked up each piece, finally saying, "Her jeans—they are not here."
Grissom left before she finished, heading toward a woman holding a radio, reporting the change in clothing the missing child was wearing. The woman had heard from a group searching along the river, a flip flop sandal had been found downstream. Someone was bringing it back to the campground.
The dogs had lost the scent at the river and were returning to the campsite trying again to pick up a trail. Once again, they ran in circles at the edge of the water before being urged to cross. Sara watched as the dogs jumped from rock to rock to reach the other side.
"That's what she did, Grissom. Look at the dogs." The small dogs jumped from one rock to another in a zigzag path, hesitating a few seconds before they moved to another rock. "For some reason, she crossed the river." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, one dog found the scent and ran into lush green vegetation.
For the first time, Sara had hope the child would be found. She turned back to the mother sitting with several others at a picnic table, the look of complete despair on her face, hysteria replaced by anguish.
This time, Sara knelt beside her. "The dogs have picked up a scent across the river. They are smart little dogs; if she's there, they can find her."
The woman's tear filled eyes met Sara's. "She's a smart girl. I've tried to think why she would leave—she knows better."
Sara gently covered the woman's hand. "She's a little girl having fun. Does she like animals? Would she have followed one? I'm sure she didn't think she about getting lost."
The mother began to talk about her daughter, how much she enjoyed camping, hiking into the canyon and playing in the water—never a thought of harm or danger.