Sex. Murder. Mystery. (30 page)

Rochelle nodded. The grown daughter of the minister and the murderer did not cry. She seemed to take it all in stride.

The detective said Sharon was on her way to Pueblo for booking and would be formally charged in Adams County. She also told Rochelle she could not go up to Round House. Detectives were conducting a search there.

“Can I see my mother?” the young woman asked.

The detective shook her head. “Not now, but soon.”

Gary Adams’ dogs wouldn’t stop barking. It was around 1:30 P.M., Monday. Gary wondered if a coyote had come down from a mountainside den to tease the dogs and rustle a chicken. At times like that, he often reached for his mini-14 and fired at the coyotes from his back deck. But that morning, he didn’t reach for his gun. If he had, things might have turned out differently.

What in the world were the cops doing at the Dude Ranch? Gary Adams didn’t poke a gun in the direction of the lawmen driving up to his place. He wondered if they had come to question him about poaching a deer.

Glen Harrelson's murder was the furthest thing from his mind. He was certain no one had seen him or his truck in Thornton. He didn’t know what had happened with Sharon at the Pizza Hut.

“Gary Adams?”

“Yeah, how you doing?”

“We have a warrant for your arrest.”

“What for? What’ s going on?”

“First-degree murder. Don’t move.”

Chapter 22

THOUGH IT WAS ALMOST SPRING 1987, WITH winter's leftover chill, it certainly didn’t feel like the warmer season was imminent. Sharon Lynn Nelson braced herself against the cold to retrieve a local freebie paper that had been stuffed into the mailbox of her Denver, Colorado, rental home. It was a Saturday morning and she didn’t have anything to do but sit back and relax. She lit a cigarette and drank coffee as she flipped through the pages before stopping on a personal ad section.

What had once been burn-in-hell taboo was now second nature for the woman starting over without the love of her life, her Mountain Man, Gary Starr Adams.

Sharon had seen other such dating forums before—little rags promising lasting love if the respondent submits an attractive photograph along with a romanticized resume. But this one captured her full attention. It seemed fun. No photo was needed. No games in the mail. Simply by dialing the number and giving the operator her vitals, she would be patched over to voice messages from the men who were desperately seeking Sharon—or women just like her.

Only one of the lonely guys’ bios caught her interest. It was written by a firefighter named Glen Harrelson.

She dialed the number.

Like many of his generation, when Glen Paul Harrelson did his tour of duty in Vietnam and returned to the United States, he wanted to make changes in his life. The handsome young man with the receding hairline had seen too much. He had done so much. Life could be so short. The son of William and Ruby Harrelson, Glen knew that if he was going to do something with whatever time God gave him, he’d do so somewhere else. Somewhere away from home.

Glen was raised in the northeast suburbs of Des Moines, Iowa, and he longed for a change after the war. In short order, on September 20, 1963, he married Andrea, the girl of his dreams. When the two vacationed in Colorado the first year of their marriage something clicked. Glen wanted to live near the mountains; away from the flatlands of the Midwest. Away from his family, but not because he didn’t love them. He just needed a little space.

Settling near Denver, Glen and Andy, as she preferred to be called, eventually had two children. A son, Todd, was born in 1969; a daughter, Tara, two years later. Between the births of what would be his only children, Glen Harrelson found his niche and his life's work when he became a Denver firefighter. It was a perfect fit of man and vocation.

Personalities magnify in the frequently stress-prone confines of a firehouse. Glen's easy nature was always a welcome addition. He played the guitar, sang beautifully and pitched in whenever anyone needed help. He also put up with the good-natured humor of the practical jokers that invariably end up among the eight men who work the long shifts together.

During the middle of one night, a fellow firefighter filled Glen's boots with cold spaghetti. When a false alarm was sounded by the firehouse trickster, Glen jumped up and slid his feet into slimy, wet pasta. Like the good sport that he was, Glen laughed harder than anyone. But when it was payback time, it was Glen who came up with the scheme to put lipstick on the earpiece of the telephone. Red-smeared ears dominated that particular day.

Again, Glen laughed the loudest.

No one would argue that during his tenure at Denver Stations 9 and 26, Glen was one of the most respected and liked of his peers.

During that period his best friend was Jim Schindler. Jim and his wife, Jayne, grew close to the Harrelson family, sharing meals and holidays as time allowed. Jim and Glen also joined forces as business partners on a carpet and decorating sideline, and a few years later, a car wash. Whether it was in the confines of the firehouse or off the job counting change at their car wash, the two men never knew a better friendship. Not in their entire lives. Both figured they’d be best buddies forever, wives included. All four of them, always.

They were wrong. In time, signs were evident and could not be ignored. The Harrelson marriage was ebbing toward failure.

Twenty-two years and the gentle fireman's marriage went up in smoke. For Glen and Andy Harrelson, the split didn’t take place overnight. It wasn’t the jarring and inevitable result of an affair or an infidelity, as often is the case in marriages that fall apart when couples reach the sneaky desperation mat can overtake their forties. Glen and Andy had two children and a fabulous new home on eight acres. They had new cars. Nice manners. But they also had different agendas for their lives. Andy Harrelson was taking Communications classes at the local college and Glen was following his wanderlust for new ventures and new investments. Glen had the heart of an entrepreneur. The car washes and the carpet and decorating business were absolute testament to that.

So sadly, more than anything, it was the financial matters that broke up the Harrelsons. Glen liked to take financial risks and Andy was more security-conscious. She could no longer get by on her husband's promises. Andy didn’t want to worry. She loved Glen, and she knew her complaints—no matter how gently offered—were wearing him down. She was keeping him from doing what he wanted to do.

When the Harrelsons arrived at the Schindler home for a pre-Christmas get-together in December 1984, Jim and Jayne saw firsthand how strained things had become. Things were bad; though they prayed their friends would work it out. Their prayers, it seemed, went unanswered. A few days later, on Christmas Day, a distraught Glen called Jim to tell him Andy had asked him to move out.

“He was at the absolute bottom of the world,” Jim later recalled. “He felt it was coming. He was very much in love with Andy. He didn’t know what to do to put his marriage back together.”

Glen was crying.

“I don’t want my family to break up, I really don’t,” the soft-spoken man muttered over and over.

Not long after the separation, Glen saw a counselor. With help, he hoped he would be able to put his life back together. He was lonely. He missed Andy. As Jayne Schindler later said, “he seemed like a lost puppy.”

It was around that time he decided his lonesomeness could not be slaked by his same old friends. Glen wanted to date again. As his divorce became final, Glen joined a singles group at Northglenn Christian Church. He also bought a toupee.

Starting over in middle age is always tough. It was especially hard for Glen, who had not wanted to start over in the first place. The bar scene was intimidating, and he’d never been the type to strike up a conversation with a woman in the produce aisle at the supermarket, as some of the fellows in the firehouse had said had worked for them. Glen was not overly shy—his music was proof that performing for others was a joy, not a dread. But in his forties, he was awkward and alone.

When Glen talked to Jim Schindler about entering the dating scene again, it was with a sense of worry, not excitement. Glen was lost. He did not know what to do. The singles group at the church was a start, but he felt he was too old for most of the women there. Twenty-year-old Mikki Watson, for one, at half his age, would never be more than a friend.

One night Jim and Glen talked until the sun came up. Glen rambled on about his fears and regrets and Jim, who was worried about his friend's mental state, shirked off much-needed sleep to keep his buddy talking.

Glen Harrelson was not a loner and he was very lonely.

When he told Jim and Jayne Schindler that he was advertising in a singles magazine, they were skeptical. They wondered what type of woman he could meet that way.

Glen told them he had already responded to a woman's ad.

“She told me to bring two six-packs and come over to her place.”

“What did you do?” Jayne prodded.

Glen flashed a smile. “I went,” he said.

The Schindlers burst out laughing. Glen's sense of humor was evident for the first time in months.

“What happened?” Jayne asked.

He let a wry smile cross his face. “I’ll tell you this, I didn’t stay that long. She wasn’t my type.”

A few weeks after the woman with the six-pack, he met a new woman. A fun-loving, classy beauty.

“Her name is Sharon, but she likes to be called Sher,” he said.

Rick Philippi, 38, was glad for the invitation to join Glen Harrelson and Sher Nelson for lunch, even if they were only eating at the Burger King off 104th Avenue and Federal Boulevard, a few blocks west of Thornton. Rick, who knew Glen through a church bowling team and his friendship with Jim and Jayne Schindler, had heard so much about the new woman in his friend's life that he was pleased he’d finally be able to put a face with the name. He had been seeing less and less of his friend around church and around the events that promoted their mutual interest in classic cars. It was high time to meet the woman behind it.

Glen and Sher were already at Burger King when Rick, a good looking fellow with blue eyes and a blond moustache accenting the northern Spanish features of his ancestors, ar-rived from the nearby Ford dealership where he was a lot manager. It was one of those moments that begged for a Kodak to prove the description later, the gal made such an unforgettable first impression. Sher sat like a homecoming queen gone bad in tight slacks with a cigarette lodged in the corner of her mouth, moving like a metronome when she spoke. She was neither warm nor particularly friendly.

The lunch, not surprisingly, went downhill from there. It seemed that Sharon didn’t really want anyone around other than her beau. She sat between the two bowling buddies, intentionally leaning forward to block Rick's view of his pal. It was obvious as could be. She didn’t want Rick involved in the conversation she was having with her new boyfriend.

Once or twice when Rick tried to wedge his way into the discussion, Sharon turned and glared at him. It was subtle and out of Glen's view.

Annoyed, Rick studied his watch as though he was concerned about the time.

“Oh, I have to get back. You guys probably have a lot to talk about,” he said, swallowing hard. He had lied to one of his closest friends. He didn’t have to get back to the car dealership for any reason at all. His lunch hour was far from over. He just couldn’t stand sitting there with Sharon for one more minute.

“She didn’t even have to talk, I just didn’t like her. I tried to be nice. I tried not to show my feelings. The way she looked, the glare, the stare. The way she carried herself like she was cocky,” he recalled later.

As the days passed into weeks of the spring and summer, Glen's circle of friends shrunk until it barely included anyone but Sharon. Old friends were set aside as the friendly fireman and his love took long drives together, went out to dinner, to the movies. Everything seemed to happen so fast.

Sharon complained she didn’t like her rental house. She didn’t like the neighbor's skinny mutt barking all hours of the night. It wasn’t a good place for Danny and Misty to live.

Glen offered Sharon and the kids a place to stay. They could move into his house on Columbine Court. The ranch-style home had a nice yard for the kids, was close to Sharon's job at the eye doctor's and would give everyone a chance to see if they could work things out. When Sharon agreed, Glen told friends he was the happiest man in the world. The haste of their living arrangement surprised many, but no one said a word to Glen about it.

No one wanted to ruin what happiness he had finally found.

Tara Harrelson was a typical teenager of divorce. Though she lived with her mother, she felt a special closeness for her father. The split of the Harrelson family had been hard on the teen. She harbored resentment and a little bitterness, and she rebelled. And even though the stirred-up feelings from her parents’ divorce had settled, she was still hurt that they could not be a family as they had once been. When it came to women and their interest in her father, Tara was fiercely protective. She wanted the best for her dad.

When she met her father's live-in, Sharon, for the first time,

Tara had a feeling that this former preacher's and doctor's wife was different from the others he had dated. She was nice, but a little pushy. It seemed to take no time at all for Sharon to force herself into their lives. In almost the blink of an eye, Sharon took over her dad's house. She posted religious verses throughout the house. She arranged the furniture the way she wanted it. She did a little magazine-inspired decorating makeover on a couple of the rooms. She allowed Danny and Misty to have the run of the place.

Soon after Sharon and the kids moved in, Tara found business cards from an optical company. The surname astonished her: SHER HARRELSON.

What is this? The teenager had not heard any talk of marriage. Not a peep. Her father and Sharon had just started going out. It was true that Sharon had moved into the house in surprisingly short order, but that didn’t mean the two were getting married. What Tara saw on the little card bothered her. Using another man's last name seemed inappropriate even to a sixteen-year-old who might doodle Mrs. So-and-So on the back of a Pee-Chee school folder.