Terry and Kay Mitchell couldn’t wait to get out of Trinidad. The chiropractor and his wife considered the town a pit. When they relocated Dr. Mitchell's practice to the Denver area in December 1983, they assumed most of what had bothered them about the place would be left behind.
Sharon Nelson had other plans. She wanted to keep in touch.
Over the course of 1984, Sharon made several visits to the Mitchell home. Despite the fact her husband was still missing, Sharon seemed happy.
Very happy.
“You haven’t let things get you down,” Kay commented during one of the visits.
Sharon nodded affirmatively. “Things have worked themselves out,” she said.
Kay was uncomfortable with the happy-go-lucky attitude. Perry didn’t even come up in conversation.
It hasn’t been a year since his disappearance and she's not even thinking of him anymore, she thought.
Kay said, “It's amazing how quickly you’ve gotten through this.”
“Everything's just falling into place,” Sharon answered. “Everything is working out so well for me.”
Over the next few weeks and months, it became clear the reason she was doing so much better than most would have expected was on-and-off-again Gary Adams. Sharon brought her new man up to Dr. Mitchell's office in Parker, Colorado, for treatments. Gary had suffered some hearing loss and was treated with acupuncture.
Dr. Mitchell had no doubts—even at the first visit—that Sharon was sleeping with her helpful neighbor. Sharon, as far as he knew, didn’t hang around with a man unless she was having sex with him.
One time in 1984, Sharon arrived alone at the Mitchells’ residence. Her hair was done, makeup perfect. She never looked happier. She was also busting with some news.
“Gary and I got married,” she announced.
Kay acted surprised that she and Terry hadn’t been invited.
As if we would have wanted to go.
“Oh, it wasn’t that kind of a wedding,” Sharon said as the two women sat down to talk. “Gary and I went together to the mountains and said our vows in a field of wildflowers.”
“Oh, I see,” Kay said, thinking it was about the dumbest thing she’d ever heard.
Some wedding… another of Sharon's useless little lies.
Sharon Nelson had her own way of doing things. She was not shy. She didn’t care one bit what anyone thought of her, especially when she was in love. Not too many months after her husband disappeared, Sharon and Gary paid a visit to the single-wide mobile home of Ann and Bernard Parsons. The Parsons were in the midst of building a new home, and for the time being had to make do with the tiny quarters. When Sharon and Gary arrived, they were invited inside. Ann Parsons was the kind of woman who peppered her speech with “hon.” Bernard was a man who never knew a stranger. They were glad for the company. Visits in the country were few and far between and, consequently, almost always welcome. Yet this visit was unsettling to the hosts. Sharon was holding Gary's hand, very much in love. She snuggled up next to him on the couch. In doing so, the glint of gold was unmistakable and overt. If the sun had been shining on the diamond-studded pendant around Gary Adams’ neck, it could have blinded someone.
Sharon noticed Ann's eyes linger on her boyfriend's pendant.
“I had a jeweler make it especially for Gary,” Sharon said. She recounted how she had come up with the design. That was like Sharon, she was always the one with the best, the most unique ideas. She was always proud of her creations. But as she talked, it was the source of the gold that made the Parsons a bit uneasy.
“I had the jeweler melt down Perry's wedding ring. I couldn’t see any sense in keeping it anymore.”
Ann and Bernard exchanged fleeting glances. Neither wanted to call attention to what they were thinking, but neither wanted to miss the opportunity to ensure they were on the same wavelength.
When the visit was over and Gary and Sharon had gone, Ann Parsons immediately turned to her husband.
“What do you think about that necklace?” she asked.
Bernard Parsons shook his head.
“I know what you mean.”
Ann was appalled. “Have you ever heard of such a bloodthirsty thing in all your life? Imagine melting down your husband's wedding ring for jewelry for your boyfriend.”
Bernard was nearly dumbfounded.
“Pretty cold, I’d say,” he finally muttered.
As they talked a bit more, a chill passed between them.
“You’re not going to tell me that Perry's not dead? Those two know something,” Ann said. “I’ve got a gut feeling that he's dead and they know it.”
It was on May 29, 1984. As Perry Nelson's youngest daughter by Julie, Lorri, marked her twenty-first birthday, she came to the realization her father was gone forever.