The Fourth Woman: Chapter 6

“Lovelock, Nev. (AP) – One woman found, second remains missing. Authorities call off search after no further evidence located. Investigators are seeking information from public about motorcyclist’s seen in area.”

Three days later, with no more signs of either women found, the search was called off. The disappearance, though considered extremely suspicious, was officially listed as a ‘Missing Persons’ case.

Ten days after the two women disappeared, a woman called the Lovelock police station, “A girl jus’ came walking out of the desert, naked, crying and terribly sun burnt.”

The dispatcher told her to keep the girl safe, that both a sheriff’s deputy and an ambulance were en route. It took nearly twenty minutes for the deputy to arrive, with the ambulance pulling onto the long dirt road two minutes later.

“What’s your name?” the deputy asked.


“We’ve been looking for you, Lori.”


“You were reported missing by your friends.”

“Where are they? Are they okay?”

“One is still missing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You and Marilyn were reported missing by your two friends.”

“Marilyn’s missing?”

“Yes,” the deputy answered as the paramedics helped her to a stretcher, loading it into the waiting ambulance. The deputy took note of the confused look on the woman’s face as the door to the vehicle closed.

The deputy then turned his attention to the woman who had made the call. “Where did she come from?”

“Over there,” she pointed.

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Not really. She wanted some water, which I gave her. I asked what happened, but she said she couldn’t remember.”

“Thank you ma’am. You did the right thing.”

He walked over to the area where the woman said Lori had appeared, but couldn’t find a single footstep. As he got in his car to leave, he wondered if he should include that information in his report or pretend like he never looked in the first place.

The two original detectives were quickly notified that one of the missing women had been found. They rushed over to the county hospital with the hopes of interviewing her while everything was fresh in her mind.

“She’s going to be okay,” the doctor told them as he ushered the pair into the private room they’d placed Lori in.  With window curtains drawn nearly closed, the woman lay on her back, covered only by a single sheet, her right arm pierced with the needle that held the tubing in which fluid from a clear plastic bag flowed.

“I know this is a difficult time,” one of the detectives said, “But we need to understand what happened to you.”

“I don’t know,” Lori answered, “I was asleep, but can’t recall any thing after that.”

“Nothing? How about a feeling, a sound, maybe an odor or smell?”

She laid there and thought for minute, closing her eye’s as if to see backward, into her memory, “A deep growl. I remember a deep growl. Also the smell of rotten eggs. Does that help?”

“Possibly. How about Marilyn? Do you remember what happened to her?”

“No. I was asleep and she was next to me on the blanket. That’s all I can remember.”

“Okay,” said the doctor, “That’s enough. She needs to rest.”

“Here’s my phone number, call me if you remember something, anything more. Okay?”

“Thank you,” she said as they left the room.

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