Kristina Sauerwein - Invisible Chains: Shawn Hornbeck and the Kidnapping Case that Shook the Nation

This book would not have been possible without the perseverance and the faith of my agent, Ted Weinstein, whose calm, concise and friendly demeanor makes him a pleasure to work with, as well as all of the talented professionals at The Globe Pequot Press. In particular, I give my greatest gratitude to associate editor Jennifer Taber, whose keen editing style elevated the manuscript and whose patience is much appreciated, as I am fully aware that I can be a bit anal-retentive during the copyediting and fact-checking stages. Id also like to express my appreciation to Ronnie Gramazio, former executive editor, and Inger Forland, executive director of Marketing, Publicity, and Design, for their support with this project.

Additionally, I thank the dozens of people who took time out of their busy schedules to share their expertise and/or their personal stories with me. Although there are too many people to name individually, Id like to recognize those who went the extra mile in helping me with my research: Dr. Fred Berlin, Dr. N.G. Berrill, Dr. C. Robert Cloninger, Ron and Shirley Cobb, Kim Evans, Dr. Charles Figley, Dr. David Finkelhor, Dr. Robert Keppel, Dr. Kathryn Kuhn, Kenneth V. Lanning, Nancy McBride, Dr. Carlton Munson, Dr. Frank Ochberg, Mike Prosperi, Dr. Lenore Terr, and Stephen Thompson.

Personally, I have dozens of people to thank for helping me with this book, including all of my family and friends, whose enthusiasm kept me afloat during stressful times. In particular, I thank Laura Geiser, Steve Justus, and Joy Shioshita, three of the smartest people I know, for reading my manuscript before I turned it in formallyyour fine copyediting and excellent suggestions saved me from looking like a fool; Sue Wilfing for her speedy transcription of hours of taped interviews; and my husband Tom Geiser and my father-in-law, Jerry Geiser, for taking photographs for the book.

From an emotional standpoint, my friend, Tricia Gianino, offered her near-daily support and, frankly, kept me sane as I struggled to balance being a mom and working on this project. And perhaps most helpful of all was the child care I received from my mom, Mary Justus, who flew in from out of town to watch my daughter while I worked, and my mother-inlaw, Nancy Geiser, who often dropped what she was doing to babysit. I cannot describe how much it meant to me to have Zoes nana and grandma caring for her.

I also appreciate my familys support during this project: My husband, Tom, whose intelligence, humor, and enthusiasm sustained me; and my spunky, sweet-soul of a daughter, Zoe, who had to make-do without me on many weekends while I worked. My parents also deserve recognition: My mom has always thought that Im the greatest thing ever, and that means everything to me. So, too, does the delight that my father, the late James Sauerwein, always showed in my writing since I was a pig-tailed girl scribbling stories about my stuffed raccoon.

Finally, I express my sincere admiration to Shawn Hornbeck, Ben Ownby, and their families for their strength, their character, and their ability to hold on to hope. Youve inspired me, and, Im sure, hundreds of other people.

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Copyright 2008 by Kristina Sauerwein

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted in writing from the publisher. Requests for permission should be addressed to The Globe Pequot Press, Attn: Rights and Permissions Department, P.O. Box 480, Guilford CT 06437.

The Lyons Press is an imprint of The Globe Pequot Press.

Designed by Sheryl P. Kober

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.

ISBN 978-1-59921-344-6

Printed in the United States of America

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For my family: Tom, Zoe, and my babies; you are always loved.

Two Missouri families prayed for a miracle on January 12, 2007.

One family had started praying four and a half days earlier, when their thirteen-year-old son disappeared after a school bus dropped him off in front of their home in Beaufort.

The other familys prayers had begun 1,558 days earlier, when their then-eleven-year-old boy vanished on a sunny Sunday afternoon while riding a bicycle less than a mile from their house in Richwoods. Every day, for four years, the boys parents appealed to a higher power to bring home their son.

On that bleak, icy day in January, the families prayers were answered.

The miracle had occurred.

CHAPTER 1

Richwoods, Missouri, is the perfect place to get lost.

The area is shrouded in lush layers of trees: red oaks, white oaks, pines, hickory, ash, cherry, walnut, and other native eastern hardwoods in forests so dense, there are parts where the sun struggles to shine through and temperatures drop slightly. The thick trees offer obscurity, as do rocky ridges of limestone snaking across the bramble. Its a topographical topsy-turvy, where sinkholes and cave pits depress into the countryside, rolling hills meander across the landscape, and cascading creeks canter every which way. Inexperienced trekkers, beware: Abandoned mine shafts and tailing ponds threaten to swallow. Old rusted farming equipment, shabby sheds, and mangy mobile homes litter the hollows.

In these woods, it is easy for a person to disappearby choice, or by accident.

CHAPTER 2

October 6 had all the makings of a memorable day.

The frothy forests surrounding the small town of Richwoods still resembled summer on that Sunday afternoon in 2002. Big, green leaves draped the rising red oaks. The townsfolk still favored cotton shirts, drove with the windows down, and relished ice-cold cans of Pepsi-Cola and Milwaukees Best beer. Daytime temperatures with highs in the sixties had replaced the scorching heat and suffocating humidity that mark summers in Eastern Missouri. Lower temperatures seemed to have buzzed away the pesky mosquitoes that thrive in the old tailing ponds left over from the towns mining days.

Not too hot. Not too cold. Just perfect. Even the children seemed to know that they had to seize the day and play outside, realizing that soon they would be confined inside, cooped up. Bone-chilling temperatures were only weeks away, or possibly days away, given the areas unpredictable weather patterns. It seemed as if all the boys and girls of Richwoods spent that Sunday outside, jumping on trampolines, tossing balls and Frisbees on green grassy lawns, and riding their bikes along Highway A, a windy, two-lane road that cuts through the towns center.

Shawn Damian Hornbeck had awakened to a day that seemed to promise the carefree spontaneity that eleven-year-olds like him reveled in and that overworked, over-scheduled adults envied. His stepfather, for one, probably would have appreciated such a luxury. That morning, Craig Akers had skipped his Sunday ritual of cooking a hearty breakfast of sausage and eggs, according to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch ; instead, he opted to sleep late, exhausted from all of the overtime he was working at his job as vice president of technology at Fastrans Logistics, located about an hours drive away in north St. Louis County. That morning, with his parents and two teenage sisters all doing their own things, Shawn basked in his freedom to spend his time as he pleased, the newspaper reported: he fueled up with a Pop-Tart, the sugary sweetness most likely a treat in itself, and set out for a day of fun in his hometown.