Free From Pharaoh's Hand by Cynthia Green Page A

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                  Beth’s parents put out a desperate media plea and a hundred thousand dollar reward hoping to get their daughter back. The leads came rolling in faster than the police could follow up on them. Most of them led to dead ends, except for two. One was the bus driver of the casino bus who called to say he remembered a girl matching her description riding the bus to Memphis. He was very sorry to hear that she was a runaway. How could he have known? The other lead matched up with the bus driver’s. The Shell clerk had waited on the girl after the bus had departed. She remembered the girl asking for a phone book and buying a map. She said the girl left on foot in the direction of the Wingate. She had paid cash for the map and drink.
          The police pieced together that Elizabeth had hopped the casino shuttle bus after her work shift and rode it as far as Germantown. She had gotten off at the Shell on Exit 16, bought a map and a drink, then checked in at the Wingate. After she left there, it was anyone’s guess where Elizabeth might have gone. Interviews at the bus stations and cab offices came up empty-handed. Wherever Elizabeth was, she had either walked, hitched, or been forced to go there. She had not used any other form of public transport. Her parents were comforted only in the knowledge that Beth was probably alive and on the run, and most likely still in the Memphis area. The police questioned the employees at the Waffle House, thinking Elizabeth ate breakfast there or at the hotel, but none of the employees could remember.
                  “Honey, this place stays full on the weekends. Old people, young people, black people, white people...who can keep track of them all. I just try to get my shift done and get home and soak my tired bunions. I can’t help you,” the waitress glibly answered. The cook was just as helpful.
          “ Hey, my back’s to the crowd all day. I work for a living.”
                  Elizabeth’s parents had even made a trip down to Memphis to hand out fliers and put them on cars at the mall. They showed her picture to countless shoppers. They plastered her picture at the bus terminal and the cab stations, and all the public attractions, including the Memphis Zoo. The King Tut exhibit had been closed due to the investigation surrounding the robbery. But they scoured the ballpark, Graceland, and a host of other tourist spots, just in case anyone had seen their daughter. John and Carolyn returned to Jackson distraught and emotionally drained. All they could do now is pray for news.
                  West Jackson Baptist Church held a candlelit vigil for Elizabeth, and over 300 students attended. Teachers and friends alike poured into the Merriweather home to comfort and help with the daily tasks. Carolyn had been in a constant state of turmoil. Ladies from the church brought casseroles and made coffee. The men took up an offering from all the Sunday School groups, the choir, the missions groups, every department in the church gave to help pay the Merriweather’s expenses while they took time off from work to devote to their daughter’s search. A gospel singing was held at The Old Country Store to raise money and awareness for the missing teen. It was a given in the rural South that when your neighbor was in trouble, you were there to help out in any way you could. It was one of the reasons  John never considered moving up north. The Hub City was known for making newcomers feel welcomed and loved.  He just could not imagine why his daughter would want to leave.
          It was mid-April when the officer rang the bell and asked to speak to both John and Carolyn. John trembled as he led the officer in to the living room. The look on the officer’s face was not one of joy. It was somber and foreshadowed bad news.
                  “What is it officer? You’ve found her.” John questioned. Carolyn