Chapter 4

            Three days later . . .

            Lester Bartholomew, billionaire publicist and investor, paced the carpeted floor in his study. His wife, Lisa, was watching him as he did.

            “Don’t fret. I’m sure the police will find her soon,” Lisa said with soothing in her tone.

            Lester stopped dead in his tracks. “It’s been three days. Ava couldn’t have wondered off in a haze that far from the crash.”

            “I’m starting to think my original assumption was right, Lester,” she said.  “Ava got to the main road to flag someone down for help. Like you said, it has been three days.”

            “Yes.  Maybe so . . . dear, god. Do you think someone who meant her harm could have taken her?”

            “I hope not, but Ava can be pretty feisty sometimes. She can get away from someone like that.”

            “Not if she was injured, and she had to have sustained some sort of injury in a crash like that.” The pilot and the flight attendant’s bodies had been found in the wreckage. The attendant’s arm and leg were severed. The pilot’s body was burnt to a crisp. Legally, his body had to be identified by his dental records so the coroner would release his body to his family. When Ava’s body wasn’t found, it gave the Bartholomew family hope that she was still alive somewhere. “Damn, I should have had that older plane decommissioned last year,” he said through gritted teeth and bitter regret. His youngest daughter was lost and probably in trouble out there in the woods of Montana all because he was trying to save a few bucks.

            “Either way, making yourself sick isn’t going to make her turn up,” Lisa said gently. “Please sit down for a while. You’ve been pacing for almost an hour.”

            Normally, he would tell her to shut up and he knew what was too much for him. But this time he didn’t feel like being a bastard.  He just walked back to his blasted wheelchair and sat down. He was ninety-three-years-old and he was starting to feel every inch of it. He hadn’t needed a wheelchair until two years ago. His legs were like weak reedy licorice anymore. He had terrible asthma from smoking cigars and cigarettes for sixty some odd years. Yet, he couldn’t complain but so much. Most men were dead at his age. So . . .

            Lester had meant to buy a new jet to replace the old one, but he couldn’t find one that had a price tag he liked. He had thought as long as he kept up with the maintenance on the older jet everything would be fine. It wasn’t often he was wrong, but he sure as hell was this time.

            Damn, I should have told Ava to take the newer one. Damn, damn, damn. If she isn’t found – unharmed, I’ll never forgive myself.

            That would be the only regret he has in life before going to his grave. He knew he was hell on horses and women but his children . . . they were different. All twelve of them were unique and special to him in their own way. Ava was his little girl. A little spoiled but that’s one of the things he liked about her. It gave her a certain charm that was amusing.

            His cell rang on the wooden coffee table. He grabbed it like it was something he needed to save his life.

            “Bartholomew,” Lester answered.

            “Mr. Bartholomew, this is Sherriff Wilson from the Willow Springs County –”

            “Yes, yes, I know. Any news on my girl?” he asked impatiently.

            “I’m afraid not, sir. My deputies and over eighty volunteers have searched the area within a hundred mile radius. Not a trace of her. Not even a blood trail.”

            “Hell, Wilson, she couldn’t have vanished into thin air!” he shouted over the receiver.

            “I know, sir, and I assure you I haven’t given up looking for her. I’m just updating you like you had asked.”

            “All right. What’s the next step?” Lester asked more calmly.

            “Well, my men and I have showed her picture to most of the locals already. The next step is to venture out a little more. Asking folks in the surrounding counties about her and we may even go to the Indian reservation to see if they have seen her as well.”

            “All right.”

            “However, things will be a lot easier if you let me put out a missing persons bulletin –”

            “No,” he interrupted. “Not yet.”

            “May I ask why, sir? It will go a long way in finding your daughter. I don’t have enough men to cover the entire state of Montana.”

            “I understand that, Wilson. I’m not saying never to put out a missing persons bulletin, just not yet. You see, all of Ava’s siblings doesn’t know she’s missing. And . . . I’m trying to keep it out of the papers here in New York. If this gets out, not one member of my family will be able to leave their homes because they will be surrounded by reporters and paparazzi.”

            And her wretched, golddigging mother will find out, too.

            “That might be a good thing. If her picture gets out nationwide we might get a lucky break here. But for the meantime, I’m suggesting a missing persons bulletin that will just cover the state for now.”

            “Hmm. I’ll think about it. In the meantime, keep searching.”

                                                                              ****

            Ava had been discharged from the Billings Clinic Hospital that afternoon. Her assigned case worker was able to file a medical billing hardship on Ava’s behalf. Meaning Ava’s medical bills were covered under a grant. The case worker at the hospital was able to make arrangements with the case manager at the hospital in Helena for when she started therapy for her memory loss.

            The Uber driver pulled up in front of a two-story house in Helena, Montana. The house was two stories with dark blue siding and an attached garage. The shutters were white. The yard was freshly mowed. The driver was kind enough to carry her white plastic hospital bag that had her few belongings in it.

            The woman who lived there took in unfortunate people who had nowhere else to go after they were discharged from the local hospital and clinics. She had grown children and her husband was a truck driver.

            “Welcome, Ava. My name is Mrs. Maeve Porter.”

             “Nice to meet you and thanks for taking me in,” Ava huffed out as she limped into the woman’s living room. She was on one crutch and her lower arm was in a cast.

              “No problem and take your time. If you want to rest in the living room, you can before going to your bedroom. I have a room made up for you down here, so you won’t have to battle the stairs.

              Ava was so relieved to hear that she wanted to kiss the woman.