A Few Days in a Canyon Chapter 7
"We need to get her to Flagstaff. We think the parents—if they are her parents—took off shortly after she was found this morning. Their car left the parking lot around noon. Evidently, the child was given something to make her sleep, giving them time to get away. It made no sense. No one was going to question them again."
Another man took up the story. "Our nurse is a good one. She worked up a physical on the girl, took photographs of some—bruises on her—in places children shouldn't have bruises—you know what I mean?" When Grissom and Sara remained quiet, he continued. "We called the county attorney and child protective services, deciding we could get her out of here on a helicopter."
The Bureau of Indian Affairs officer said, "That's where we need you, Miss Sidle. We need an officer to ride with the girl, take the photographs and other evidence out. We—we don't think it should be a man—you know what I mean?" He checked his watch. "The last helicopter leaves in an hour almost filled with tourists, but they can squeeze you in. If you can do this?"
Sara nodded. "How do we get to Flagstaff?" She knew the city was south of where they were. On the map, it looked like it was miles away.
"The helicopter pilot drops the tourists at the parking lot, then he flies down to Flagstaff every day. So he'll take you and the girl. Tomorrow, he'll fly you back in with the first group of tourists."
"Okay." She stood and entered their room, emerging a few minutes later her face washed and hair combed wearing a fresh shirt and carrying the small backpack. She was quiet as she approached Grissom. "I'll be back tomorrow." She grinned. "Don't leave without me."
Grissom watched as Sara met the little girl, offering a hand, asking if she had ever flown in a helicopter. Within minutes, the child saw this as an adventure. He heard a question about parents and Sara's response included a shake of her head.
They were the last to climb aboard the helicopter and only the pilot knew they were not the usual tourists. Grissom wanted to do more than touch Sara's shoulder before the door closed. He had seen the distress in her eyes.
His last words were, "I'll be here." As the helicopter lifted off, he watched as it rose above the red rock cliffs, turned and headed to the parking lot eight miles away. The trip took minutes but she was gone until the next day. He turned and headed to the café.
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Grissom ate dinner alone in the same café. Don, the owner, came by several times to talk quickly, to bring more food, and to express concern about the lost child, happy she had been found, but perplexed about how parents could leave a child.
The sun had gone down when Grissom returned to his room. It was lonely without Sara and her belongings, he decided. He missed her laugh—the giggle he loved, he missed her smell, her touch, and her youth and enthusiasm. Not for the first time, her absence caused him to worry, to agonize about the difference in age, about his own father's early death, his mother's health, his fear of commitment. Yet, in her presence, he rarely thought of any of these things.
When he slept, he did so in a restless, dreaming attempt. In the early morning darkness, he woke, walked to the helicopter landing and returned, waking at least four dogs in his path. He slept again falling into an exhausted sleep and waking only when he heard the shake of the door knob as someone turned the handle and then heard a key turn the lock. His first thought was of the maid coming in to early—until he heard her voice.
"Grissom?"
He was fully awake. "Sara?"
She was in bed with him, smelling faintly of soap and a scent of some flower. Tasting of chocolate and caramel from the cup she placed beside the bed. "Did you miss me?" She asked before her lips were on his.
His doubts and apprehension and fears of the night evaporated. She was back much earlier than he expected, pulling his shirt over his head, laughing as she struggled to unbutton her own shirt and take off her boots. In minutes, she was underneath him, and he knew he had an idiotic grin on his face.
"Know this, Sara. There will never be a time when I sleep without you that you are not missed—totally, absolutely, without doubt, the last thought I have before sleep is of you, the last word I form in my brain is Sara. No matter where we go with this…"
She stopped his words with her kiss. A deep, passionate, exploring one that met his own desire. When she broke away from him, she whispered, "I need no words, Gil. I have you."
Grissom felt her legs wrap around his; he held her head between his hands. He was determined to say the words both had avoided for months. "You are the woman I love."
All air seemed to have evaporated from the room. Time stopped. Sara's eyes opened to an impossible size and her mouth made an oval as her breath seem to completely leave her lungs.