by Chris Draper
But things didn't work that way. Hawk had been raised a realist and knew the severity of the situation. He had been taught that when the world hands you shit you deal with it the best you can. When Helen had first been admitted into Oxley he wasn't allowed to visit her for an entire month. When they did let him come and see her it was a strange feeling standing there in front of your wife, the person you'd made love too and said your vows with, now nothing more than a vegetable lying on a hospital bed. It crushed him inside to see her that way and he wanted more than anything to help her. The most frustrating thing of all was that not even the doctors and nurses who cared for Helen seemed to know what to do. Sure they monitored her brain activity through CT scans and moved her to her side once a day so she wouldn't get pneumonia and develop sores on her body, but when it came to actually making progress it seemed that they were no closer than they had been a year ago.
Lucy O'Donnell, the head nurse in charge of Helen's care, came into the room and Hawk followed her in.
“Any progress?” He asked.
“We've been reading her breathing patterns and brain waves and she's steady.” Lucy said. “All we can do is keep an eye on her and hope she recovers on her own.”
Hawk stepped into the room and Lucy said she would be back in a few minutes. He looked down at Helen laying there and she looked like a sleeping beauty with her soft lips, porcelain skin, and dark features. Although her eyes were closed now, he could still remember how they looked when they were staring into his. They had a dark and mysterious quality to them, the first thing Hawk noticed about her when he first met her at a police gala 3 years ago. They were sad eyes Hawk thought, like an old 1920's movie actress. Hawk could recall being introduced to her from a friend and how shy she was then. How they had started going on dates then moved into together, met each others' parents and friends. How quickly they had fallen in love. And how quickly that had been taken away from him.
Hawk pulled up a chair and sat down near her bed. He placed a hand on hers and whispered, “Hey Babe, it's me again. I'm going to work on a new case soon and may be gone awhile. When I come back I might have a way to get you well.” He looked at her face for a second and thought he saw a quiver of her lips. Say something babe, he thought. Tell me you're okay in there. That there's still a part of you listening somewhere.
But she didn't reply. She just lay there surrounded by all those beeping and blinking electronics he didn't understand. Her world was a world shrouded in mystery, a world he could never begin to comprehend. He sometimes wondered if she was living another life in there, had met another man, maybe had his baby; or maybe she was a child again, reliving some long lost adventure she'd had as a little girl. Whenever he came here he sometimes had these thoughts then would feel silly and silently chastise himself for thinking such ludicrous things. Helen would have laughed if she knew about them. He sat there a little longer, watching her breathing rise and fall, then got up after a few minutes, kissed her on the forehead, told Lucy that he would be away for awhile and that he would call, and left Oxley to make his way South towards Wagner's house on Telegraph Hill. He found the address, 3177 Sacramento, parked his truck on the curve with the parking brake on.
Telegraph Hill was a rich neighbourhood that boasted a sprawling view of the other hills of the city of San Francisco. He spotted the mansion across the street, a 19th century brick Victorian with steeply pitched roof angles and turreted corners, and it faintly reminded Hawk of those old mansions you'd see in crime movies of the 1940's. The old house sat incongruously between two smaller, more modern houses and had a distinct Gothic look that gave it plenty of character. A few small palm streets lined the steps to the front door and the yard looked like a postcard with finely-trimmed hedges running alongside a low latticed fence.
One thing was for sure: Harvey Wagner was big money. He was about to step out of the car when he remembered he had to call back the 315 Miami number he had found on Dottie's call list the day before. He dialed the number, heard the same old woman's voice on the answering machine, and left a message saying he needed to speak with her regarding Dottie Wagner, left his call back number, then hung up.
He got out of his truck and huffed and puffed up the steep street to Wagner's frontdoor and rang the buzzer on an intercom built into the brick. A moment later Wagner's voice came on the speaker, “Simon?”
“Hey yeah it's me.”
“Glad you're here. I'll come down and let you in.”
The door opened and Wagner extended his hand. He was a sharp dresser. Grey suits, flannel ties, flat black trousers, nice teeth with an ingratiating smile. His black hair was combed back over his right ear.
“How are you? Please come inside.” Wagner offered him a drink and Hawk said he could use a beer, then he sat down in a leather chair and waited for Wagner to come back. He looked around the room. A large triptych painting covered most of the eggshell wall near him depicting a Greek scene from a bygone era. The room was nicely furnished with oriental rugs and dark oak cabinets blended with a tasteful assortment of plants and leatherette loveseats. A single chandelier hung over him and he also admired the elegant crown molding that ran along the 12-foot high ceilings. The room smelled like old books and fancy wine.
Wagner came back in carrying a a bottle of Kronenbourg and placed it on a table beside Hawk. He noticed he was looking at the room and smiled.
“Not bad is it? I purchased the house from an Italian family that owned it for more than 70 years. I think it was built sometime in late 1900's.”
“It's a nice setup for sure.” Hawk said. “My Uncle used to have a place around here, back in the 70s. We could see an entire view of the Pacific from his bedroom window. I miss that place sometimes.” Hawk looked at the walls then looked back at Wagner sitting on the loveseat. “I have the contract with me. It's been signed and dated.” He took out the contract from his bag and Wagner looked it over nodding.
“Looks fine to me. I'll get you a copy made when I get back to the office.”
Hawk nodded, “Well should we get to it then?”
Wagner agreed then led them up three flights of stairs to Dottie's room. Her room was large and had pale-yellow walls with two large windows that afforded a view of Telegraph Hill. Hawk could see Coit Tower poking out of the trees in the distance like a giant needle.
He looked around Dottie's bedroom. Queen size bed with a few stuffed animals on it; office chair and desk with a Mac computer sitting on top; a few posters on the wall of celebrities that looked vaguely familiar. The room looked clean and well kept. He looked behind the door and saw a large dresser and a walk-in closet that was probably 5-feet deep.
“We have a cleaner that comes in once a week.” Wagner said. “She makes sure everything is in order. I told her Dottie was away for school so she hasn't been here since.”
Hawk walked around the room and the old floorboards creaked underfoot. He passed by a bookshelf and eyed a few of the titles. Modular Physics. Advanced Calculus. History of Roman Empire. Dottie was a smart girl. On the top shelf there was a photo of an older woman who was a splitting image of Dottie Wagner. Both had knife-edged cheekbones, jade green eyes with slender supermodel figures. Unconventional beauties. Wagner noticed him looking at the picture. “That was my wife Beverly who passed away during childbirth. I assume you read the report I gave you?”
“Yes I did, and I'm sorry to hear about that.” Hawk said. “How does Dottie feel about her?”
Wagner picked up the picture and blew some dust off the wooden frame. “She feels a connection with her of sorts I think. Although I have never asked her about it directly.”
“Speaking of the Wagner family,” Hawk said. “You mentioned that Dottie was close to a cousin living in Frisco. Have you told anyone else in your family about her disappearance or checked with them to see if she could be staying with them?”
“I have checked yes. We have a small family and that was my first assumption. We also have a close family and they all kno
w about Dottie's disappearance and were the first to recommend me hiring an outside source. Her cousin Rachael was devastated by Dottie going missing. I highly doubt she knows anything about where Dottie could be.”
Hawk fished out a notepad from his pocket and started jotting notes down. He took another look around the room and noticed there was something missing that he thought would have been a staple in all 18-year-old girls' rooms: Pictures of friends. They were virtually non-existent.
“Mr. Wagner did your daughter have a lot of friends?”
“Well I suppose she had a few friends, she didn't need any though. I gave her everything she could have wanted. She was mostly content studying here and kept busy with her piano and ballet lessons.”
“So she didn't go to malls, hangout at movie theatres, that sort of thing?”
“No she took her studying very seriously. Us Wagner's are a hardworking bunch you know.”
Hawk put a finger to his chin and wrote something down in his book, then looked up at Wagner.
“If you don't mind me asking Mr. Wagner, how was your relationship with your daughter?” Hawk could tell the question had caught him off guard. “Sorry, it's just that I need to look at every possible angle available.”
“It's quite alright,” Wagner replied. “I feel my daughter and I have the best of relationships.”
“Can you elaborate? Did you guys do things together?”
“Well, when Dottie wasn't studying or busy with her dance lessons I would sometimes come in and help her with her homework or give her feedback on her piano rehearsals.”
“No I meant like, did you guys ever get ice cream together, or go to a movie, or travel someplace with each other - you know, that type of thing.”
“I was usually pretty occupied with my work and didn't have the time to engage in such affairs. I think Dottie understood how important my work was to me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, she never mentioned anything about it so I assumed it wasn't a problem. Is there a reason why you're asking all of this?”
“I'm just trying to get an idea of your relationship with your daughter Mr. Wagner. I'm sorry if it comes across like I'm investigating. I'm not saying you're a suspect in your daughter's disappearance.”
“But you're not saying I'm not either which perturbs me.”
Hawk sighed. “You have to understand that in my line of business I've learned to expect the unexpected. Sometimes the most obvious answer can be staring you right in the face and you can miss it entirely if you're not careful.”
“I apologize.” Wagner said. “I didn't mean to doubt your investigative prowess Simon. I suppose I can be a stubborn old mule sometimes.”
Hawk laughed. “Don't worry about it. I would probably feel the same in your situation.”
Hawk next focused his attention on the dresser. The top was threadbare except for a jewellery box which contained a handful of bracelets and an assortment of rings and earrings. Next he opened some of the drawers and was met with rows of blouses, socks, jeans, shirts and dresses neatly folded. He bent over to check the contents of a garbage can beside the dresser and saw that it was mostly empty besides a few candy bar wrappers and some tissues. Wagner had sat down on the bed pretending to be interested in anything else besides the stranger going through his daughter's room. It reminded Hawk of his cop days when he would search through rooms such as these - albeit a lot less rich - hunting for drugs and other illegal items. Somehow though he didn't expect to find such things in a room like this.
Hawk ducked his head into the walk-in closet and pulled a cord on a light above which bathed the space in a harsh light. There was a few shelves in front of him and on the top shelf a teddy bear missing an eye frowned down at him. The other shelves were stuffed with rows of sandals and shoes and the space behind him was occupied with jackets hung from hangars. The rest of the space was empty except for a small box in the corner of the closet that contained what looked like Dottie's ballerina slippers and costume. So far Dottie's closet and the rest of her room had looked exactly how he'd pictured an 18-year-old's room to look like, minus the photos of friends of course. Although his own daughter hadn't lived past her first birthday it was everything he imagined she would have had in her room as well. He stepped back out of the closet closing the door behind him and Wagner looked up from his phone expectantly.
"Did you find anything of use?"
"Not a thing, unless you consider some old ballet gear and a teddy bear as clues." Hawk said. "Do you remember what Dottie was wearing the day she disappeared?”
"I don't see how that could possibly help you in finding my daughter. How could what she was wearing the day she disappeared mean anything?"
"Everything is important when trying to track down a missing person, any tiny detail could be the one thing that solves the case."
"Yes...I suppose so. Let me think." Wagner furrowed his brow and put a hand to his chin. "The day she disappeared I remember being quite busy. I had an important business meeting to attend at Saint Francis hospital regarding advances in prosthetic limbs and my company was about to sign a large deal with a third party supplier who would provide artificial limbs for all those in need in the Bay area. I had seen Dottie very quickly in the morning when I had told her I would not be home until quite late that night. If I can recall correctly I believe she was wearing blue jeans with a turquoise blouse, it was an outfit she was quite fond of.”
“Okay and did she say anything to you then? Did you notice anything different about her?”
“Not really but I did tell her that she could order in food that night as I wouldn't be home until late.”
“And that was the last time you saw your daughter?”
“Yes. I returned back here after 11 that night and Dottie was nowhere to be found. I remember being awake all night driving throughout the area searching for her. I stopped in all of the places where I thought someone her age might be including Lou's cinema, the Burger Shack on Weston, the waterfront – all of the places I could think of at the time. But when morning came and she hadn't returned, well, that was when I knew things were more serious.”
“And at no point did you think to call the police to report her missing?”
“The thought did cross my mind yes but I knew it would be better to try and look for her myself. As I mentioned I also had a large business deal I was in the process of closing and didn't want the negative publicity to effect my client's decision.”
Hawk sighed and glanced out the bedroom window again. The day was crystal clear without a cloud in the sky and in the distance he could see children playing hopscotch on a sidewalk. He could see them laughing and enjoying themselves as one girl tossed a stone in the far corner of a chalk outline. He wondered if Dottie had been a happy child playing on that sidewalk or if she had been locked in this room with her school books on these nice summer days. He wanted to trust Harvey Wagner but at the same time something seemed strange about the entire thing. Something that didn't sit right with him.
“You'll have to excuse me if this comes across as impolite Mr. Wagner, but I find it strange that not even once did you try to contact the authorities about your missing daughter. You'd think her well being would be more important to you than the closing of some business deal.”
Wagner looked down at his feet and for a moment Hawk thought he might cry, then he looked back up and the question had seemed to age him by 10 years. It made Hawk feel a tinge of regret at his bluntness. It was something that had been ingrained in him since police cadets and once learned it was hard to break.
“Yes I admit I made a mistake in waiting so long.” Wagner said. “I know it's hard to take the word of a man you just met less than 24 hours ago but I need you to believe that I had nothing to do with Dottie's disappearance. I swear that on everything I've ever known. You have to understand that in my line of work a person's reputation is everything and can be lost at a moment's notice. Having such an affair made public
would have been disastrous for myself and for Dottie. If I thought it would have helped I would have contacted the police in a second. But how would that have looked in the papers? Millionaire healthcare investor's daughter goes missing while working on one of the biggest projects in his career. Come now, you were once a victim of the press yourself and know how they can spin tales out of thin air, there's never knowing how far they'll go for a story. They could have even placed suspicion on me and then everything I've worked for the past 20 years would go down the tubes in a flash. Please understand that I want to find Dottie more than anything but I also don't want to scare her away by having her photograph splashed all over every newspaper across the country. I searched for her fruitlessly for close to 3 months but wherever I went I was met with loose ends. You have connections I do not and you know more about these things. If you fail to find her, only then will I contact the police even if it does soil my reputation.”
While Wagner was speaking Hawk had continued staring out the window. He had to admit that the man had a way with words. Guess years of speaking to the press and closing multi-million dollar deals could do that to a person. Some of what Wagner had said made sense though. What reason did he have to lie? And why would he pay out so much money to find his daughter if he had in fact had something to do with her disappearance? If he was lying it had to be one of the best acts Hawk had ever seen. He resigned himself to believe him for the time being and if it turned out Wagner did have something to do with it then he'd be the first to bust him.
Hawk looked away from the window and looked back toward the bookshelf near the door. Something shiny over there had caught his attention. He crossed back over, got down on one knee and saw that the shiny thing was in fact a satin red ribbon sticking out between some books on the lower shelf. He took hold of the small ribbon and carefully removed a purple book from the dominance of the larger school books. The front of it read 'My Special Thoughts' in crimson cursive writing. It was a diary.
