“You’re her.”
We both looked across the aisle at a teenager with floppy bangs hanging over a forehead of acne. He pulled out his earbuds, the light from his iPad reflecting in his glasses. “You are. You’re her,” he said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re the alien lady. The one who believes aliens took your grandson.”
“What are you talking about?” Roxy demanded.
Taken aback by Roxy’s tone, he pointed to his screen. “I just saw you online. Don’t be offended. I agree with you. I think aliens are real—”
“Give me that.” Roxy strode over and swooped up the iPad.
“Hey,” he said, but her look froze him to his chair.
“Oh sweet Jesus,” she said.
I hurried over. “What is it?”
Roxy scrolled up to the top of the NBC News home page, where a red headline screamed: “Professor arrested in U.S. Senator’s grandson’s disappearance.”
Below the headline, a subhead read, “Video shows Senator’s wife asking for help from UFO researchers.”
I was suddenly so flush I thought I would break out in sweat. I wanted to sit down, but I forced myself to keep reading.
Champaign, Illinois—FBI agents raided the Champaign, Illinois, home of a former University of Illinois professor overnight and announced they have found clothing belonging to the missing grandson of U.S. Sen. Tom Roseworth, D-Tennessee.
Dr. Steven Richards was taken into custody late Thursday evening in Nashville, Tenn.
FBI spokesman Raymond Lewis said Richards had attempted to abduct Roseworth’s wife, Lynn, at a hotel in Murfreesboro, Tenn.
Lewis said Richards lured Lynn Roseworth to the motel with the help of accomplice Barbara Rush, who is also now in custody.
“These two took advantage of a grieving grandmother in her most vulnerable moments to try and convince her of her grandson’s whereabouts,” Lewis said, “when all along it appears the boy’s clothing had been in Richards’ basement. We’re searching the residence now.”
Lewis would not elaborate as to the connection between Richards and the Roseworth family.
Hours after Richards’ and Rush’s arrest, a group of supporters of the professor released a video on YouTube, decrying the charges and posting video of what appears to be Lynn Roseworth meeting with Rush and others in a basement in Champaign late in October.
In the video, Doug Ellis, identified only as a researcher, talks about how Richards and Rush are innocent of any crimes and were only trying to assist Roseworth in finding her grandson.
“The FBI has pushed our hand to release this video,” Ellis said in the video. “But we have no choice but to show the world that Lynn Roseworth herself met with us and acknowledged our work into the existence of extraterrestrials. Barbara sought to help her, nothing else. As did Steven Richards.”
The video shows a brief interaction between Lynn Roseworth and Rush. Ellis can also be seen in the background. You can watch the clip here:
I raised a trembling finger and hit the link.
The video player that emerged showed a still frame of me standing in the basement of Steven’s house, surrounded by the other Researchers.
“That bastard recorded us,” Roxy said. “Little shit had one of those GoPros or something set up.”
I swallowed and hit the play button.
“It really is you,” the researcher in the tweed jacket could be heard saying. “I guess it’s true: You believe in the little green men like the rest of us. You look just like you do on TV.”
Barbara could be seen walking up to me. “Rupert, you prove yet again your impeccable skill for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It’s been a long time, Lynn. You may not recognize the few of us who were here back in the day.”
In the video, you could hear me clear my throat. “I doubt you would have recognized me, or even remembered my name, if it hadn’t been for my husband.”
The video then cut off, and Doug Ellis once again leaned towards the camera. “Lynn Roseworth once was one of us and came to us for help. To think Steven Richards or Barbara Rush had anything to do with that boy’s murder—”
I stepped away. “Put it away.”
“Here.” Roxy thrust the iPad back at the teenager.
“Can I take a selfie with you?” I could hear the teenage boy ask as I ran towards the nearest bathroom.
I barely made it to the toilet. Very little came up, as I’d eaten almost nothing in the last twenty-four hours. I wished for a heart attack or a stroke—any way I could die at that very moment.
Instead, I waited till my temperature dropped, sitting on the toilet. I then flushed and went out to wash my face and hands.
Roxy stood waiting for me. “Lynn, I’m so sorry.”
I rinsed my shaking hands. “It’s what the text messages and phone calls are about. It’s everywhere now. Everyone has seen it.”
“I’ll go see about the latest flight back.”
“No.” I looked up at my haggard face. “Go buy me some sunglasses and a hat.”
The four-wheel-drive Suburban was much too big for the meager clothing and basic toiletries that we carried in plastic bags from the shops in the airport, but when Roxy explained to the rental-car worker where we intended to go and that we needed a Mazda, he arched his eyebrows. “You realize it’s December in Colorado. The mountain towns can easily be snowed in. That car won’t make it.”
Roxy asked for specific directions to Argentum. I stood behind her wearing dark circular sunglasses and a ridiculous sock hat. “I have to be honest with you, ma’am, I’ve never heard of it, and I’m from the mountains near Pueblo,” the worker said.
I’d already worn out my phone’s battery trying to find anything on a town named Argentum, but the search engines gave me nothing. Why the town showed up on the old road map but nowhere else was a nagging enigma.
I showed the guy behind the counter the page from the atlas Steven had given me. He raised his eyebrows.
“Huh. It would have to be San Juan or Hinsdale County. Pretty isolated. It’s all national forest out there. I wonder if it’s not even a town anymore. That map looks pretty old. Are you sure that’s the right place? Do you plan to take a four-wheeler with you? ’Cause that’s the only way you’re going to get in. We’ve had a break from the snow for the last few days, but a whopper of a storm is coming. You’d have to take 160 and just ask around, as long as it stays open. But any roads leading off it won’t be when the snow starts.”
Roxy mumbled that she wouldn’t be riding any four-wheeler, but she would be driving. When the worker explained that they only took credit cards, I mentioned how much he looked like my son, who was waiting tables in Fort Collins. I said that I always carry cash so I can tip people who work hard but don’t make a lot of money. He accepted my cash, including the extra twenty dollars I counted out and gave him, and had me fill out paperwork, which I returned filled with blatant lies. I breathed a sigh of relief when we were safely in the SUV and on our way to the interstate.
From the airport we turned south on I-25. I nervously tapped my phone as it repeatedly dinged. “How easily can they track my cell signal?”
“Easily, but only if they ask the cops to look for you. And they’re probably getting to that point. Say you’re too upset to process what’s happening and need some time alone.”
“It just sounds so pathetic. The girls won’t buy me disappearing like this. They know I wouldn’t leave them under any circumstances. Tom won’t believe it either. I have to convince them that I had to leave. No… you convinced me to leave.”