by Tim Kizer
“It sounds… complicated.”
“You know how much it costs to adopt a child? Up to fifty thousand dollars. People are willing to pay fifty thousand dollars for a child. That’s a lot of money.”
“They say that the simplest explanation is usually correct.”
What did he mean by that?
He thinks I’m delusional or a liar.
“Usually but not always. I’m telling you the truth, Stephen. They told me Melissa was dead. I did not give her away to the Keeners. You need to check my signature on the consent to adoption form. It was falsified.”
“Who falsified it?”
“The adoption agency. You need to talk to the woman who handled Melissa’s adoption. Her name’s Joanna Styles. She left the agency a few years ago.”
“Did you talk to someone at Cradle Of Life?”
“Yes. I talked to the director of the agency this afternoon. His name’s John LaCross. I believe he knew that Melissa was abducted.”
“Did you say that to him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He told me to leave. He looked really scared when I said I knew that he sold abducted children.”
“Why do you think he knew that Melissa was abducted?”
“Intuition. You have to investigate him. What if I’m right?”
“All right. I’ll check your signature on the consent to adoption form.”
“Thank you, Stephen. And please talk to Joanna Styles.”
“Do you have her phone number?”
“No. I’m sure the agency has it.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to Joanna Styles if I find her.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re saying they tricked you into believing that Melissa was dead. Do you remember the name of the person who told you that your daughter died?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you remember what that person looked like?”
“No. It’s been thirteen years.”
“Was it a woman?”
“Yes. She was a doctor. She looked like a doctor.”
That bitch had given her a discharge form, and she had signed it. Obviously, it was a fake discharge form.
“Did you see your daughter’s body?”
“Yes. A nurse brought it to my room.”
“When a baby is born, they put an ID band on its ankle and wrist. Did you check the ID band on the body the nurse showed you?”
“Of course I did. They must have made copies of Melissa’s ID band and put them on that dead baby.”
“Do you remember the nurse’s name?”
“No, I don’t. It was a woman.”
“Did any of your friends or relatives see the girl’s body?”
“No.”
“Was the body cremated or buried?”
“It was cremated.”
“Who arranged the cremation?”
“The hospital. The funeral home sent me an urn with Melissa’s ashes.”
“Well, now you know it wasn’t her ashes in that urn.”
“You’re right. It wasn’t her ashes.”
Alice wished they were talking in person so she could see if Hagan believed her.
“I have a question about the case,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
“Are the Keeners on your suspect list?”
“Why would they kill their own daughter?”
“A lot of children have been killed by their parents. Did Melissa have life insurance?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d look into that if I were you.”
Chapter 8
1
According to the Keeners, Melissa had had a boyfriend at the time of her death, and his name was Dylan Downing. He was fifteen years old and lived two miles from Melissa. Hagan had read through the text messages Dylan had sent to Melissa in June and hadn’t found any saying that Dylan was going to hurt the girl or that he was mad at her.
Eight hours and fifty minutes before he told Alice Cannon that Melissa’s birth certificates and the adoption order were authentic, Detective Hagan parked his black Chrysler 300 in front of Dylan Downing’s house. A slim dark-haired woman in her late thirties answered the doorbell. Hagan showed her his badge and said, “I’m Detective Hagan with the San Diego Police Department. Are you Dylan Downing’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to ask your son a few questions. Is he home?”
“Yes, he is.”
She let him in, and they went into the living room.
“What’s your name?” Hagan asked.
“Arlene. Let me get Dylan.”
She came back a minute later with her son, who appeared to have just woken up. The boy wore blue shorts and a white tank top that emphasized his tan. He was about five feet eleven, good-looking, and athletically built.
“Good morning.” Dylan sat down on the couch.
“Good morning,” Hagan said. “My name’s Stephen Hagan. I’m a homicide detective with the San Diego Police Department. Do you know why I’m here, Dylan?”
“No.” The boy yawned, covering his mouth with his hand.
“Do you know Melissa Keener?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“I need the exact date.”
Dylan looked at the calendar hanging on the wall to his right for a few seconds, and said, “June twenty-seventh.”
“What time?”
“One o’clock.”
“A.m. or p.m.?”
“P.m.”
“Where?”
“By her house.”
“Did you hang out with her that day?”
“Yeah.”
“Where did you two go?”
“Nowhere. We just walked around the neighborhood.”
“Did you go to your house?”
“No.”
“Do you know where Melissa was between two and five p.m. that day?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Do you know what happened to Melissa on June twenty-seventh?”
“Yes. She was murdered.”
“Oh my God!” Arlene exclaimed. “Dylan, why didn’t you tell me Melissa was murdered?”
“How do you know that?” Hagan asked Dylan.
“Melissa’s dad told me.”
“Did you have anything to do with her murder?”
Dylan shook his head. “No, no!”
“Dylan, don’t say anything,” Arlene said. “Let me handle this.” To Hagan, she said, “Mister Hagan, my son has nothing to do with this girl’s murder. Don’t try to trick my son.”
“Do you know who killed Melissa?” Hagan asked Dylan.
“No, I don’t.”
“He doesn’t know anything about this,” Arlene said.
“Look, Arlene, your son’s not a suspect. I’m not trying to trick him.”
“He doesn’t have to answer your questions.”
“That’s right. Did you ever meet Melissa Keener?”
“Yes. I met her a couple of times.”
“Do you want her killer to be punished?”
“Yes, of course.”
To the boy, Hagan said, “Dylan, do you want to help me find Melissa’s killer?”
“Yeah.”
“Where were you between two and six p.m. on June twenty-seventh?”
Dylan looked at his mother. She whispered something in his ear, and then he whispered something back in hers.
“You can answer this question,” Arlene said to her son.
“I was home,” Dylan said to Hagan.
“Do you know that your cellphone company records the location of your phone?”
“Yes,” the boy said.
“They’re going to tell me where your phone was between two and six on June twenty-seventh, and if it turns out that you lied to me, you’ll be charged with obstruction of justice.”
“I’m
telling you the truth. I was home.”
“Were you alone?”
“My dad came home at five.”
“You said Dylan wasn’t a suspect,” Arlene said.
“He’s not a suspect, Arlene.” To Dylan, Hagan said, “Melissa was your girlfriend, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ever have sex with her?”
“Why are you asking this question?” Arlene said. “My son hasn’t had sex with anyone.” She glanced at Dylan.
“I never had sex with Melissa,” Dylan said.
“When did you start dating her?” Hagan asked.
“Two months ago.”
“Did she cheat on you?”
“No.”
“Did you cheat on her?”
“No.”
“Who was Melissa’s boyfriend before you?”
“Adam Linder.”
“How old is he?”
“Fifteen.”
“Did she break up with him because of you?”
“Yeah.”
“Was he angry that she broke up with him?”
“Yeah.”
“Did he threaten you or Melissa?”
“He told me he’d kick my ass.”
“Did he fight you?”
“Yeah, but he lost.”
“Did he threaten Melissa?”
Dylan shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Do you know where Adam lives?”
“Yes.” Dylan told Hagan Adam Linder’s address.
“Do you know his number?”
“Yes.” Dylan gave Hagan Adam’s phone number.
“Did Melissa have any enemies?” Hagan asked.
“Well…” Dylan hesitated. “My ex-girlfriend hated her.”
“Did your ex-girlfriend threaten Melissa?”
Dylan nodded. “Yeah. She told Melissa she was going to kill her. But I don’t think she meant it.”
“Maybe she did mean it,” Arlene said.
“What’s your ex-girlfriend’s name?” Hagan asked.
“Anita. Anita Caruso.”
“How old is she?”
“Fourteen.”
“What’s her address and cell number?”
After Dylan told him Anita’s address and number, Hagan asked, “Did she try to get back with you in the last two weeks?”
“Yes. She called me a week ago and asked if I still loved Melissa. Then she said she still loved me.”
“Are you done, Detective?” Arlene said. “I’ve got to go to work.”
Hagan nodded. “Yes. Thank you for your time.”
“It was probably Anita who killed Melissa,” Arlene said. “Nowadays teenage girls are vicious.”
2
When Hagan left Dylan Downing’s house, he called Norman Keener and asked if he had told Dylan about Melissa’s murder. Norman said that he had. After talking to Melissa’s father, Hagan went to Anita Caruso’s house. The girl wasn’t home. Her eighteen-year-old brother, Edward, told Hagan that she was at the UTC mall and that she’d be home after two in the afternoon.
Edward might have helped his sister kill Melissa, Hagan thought.
On the way to Adam Linder’s house, he wondered if Dylan had warned Anita that a detective investigating Melissa’s murder might pay her a visit.
It was a quarter past ten when Hagan arrived at Adam’s place. A lean boy wearing shorts and no shirt answered the door. He said that he was Adam Linder and that his parents weren’t home. The boy examined Hagan’s police ID and badge and then let him in.
The living room smelled of fried chicken. There were a half-empty bottle of soda and a plate with three bare chicken bones on the coffee table. Adam grabbed a T-shirt from a chair, put it on, and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”
His freckled face was tense.
“Where were you between two and six p.m. on June twenty-seventh?” Hagan asked.
“I don’t remember. What day was it?”
“Tuesday.”
“I think I was with my girlfriend.”
“What’s her name?”
“Anita.”
“What’s her last name?”
“Caruso.”
Was it Dylan’s ex-girlfriend?
“What’s her address?”
The address Adam told Hagan was Dylan Downing’s ex-girlfriend’s address.
Anita might have asked Adam to help her murder Melissa. Or maybe Adam was the mastermind and Anita was an accomplice.
“You used to go out with Melissa Keener, didn’t you?” Hagan said.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what happened to her on June twenty-seventh?”
“No. What?”
“She was murdered.”
“What? Oh my God!” Adam looked shocked. “She was murdered? How?”
“Were you angry with Melissa when she broke up with you?”
“A little.” The boy paused. “It’s terrible. It’s just terrible.”
“You tried to beat up her new boyfriend, didn’t you?”
“Who told you that?”
“Her new boyfriend, Dylan.”
“I didn’t beat him up.”
“Did you have anything to do with Melissa’s murder?”
Adam frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
“Lying to the police is a crime, Adam. Are you lying to me?”
“No, I’m not. I swear!”
“Do you know who killed Melissa?”
“No.”
“When did you start dating Melissa?”
“Last November.”
“And she broke up with you last May?”
“Yes.”
Adam and Melissa had dated for six months. Considering their ages, it was a very long relationship.
“Did you love Melissa?”
“Yeah.”
“You wanted to get back at her for breaking up with you, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You said you were angry with her.”
“I was a little angry.”
“You were angry enough to fight her new boyfriend.”
“I was angry with Dylan, not Melissa.”
“When was the last time you saw Melissa?”
“A month ago.”
“Did you threaten her after the breakup?”
“No.”
“When did you start dating Anita?”
“Late May.”
“Anita used to be Dylan’s girlfriend, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“Was Anita mad at Melissa?”
Adam hesitated and then said, “Yes.”
“Did she ever ask you to help her kill Melissa?”
Adam shook his head. “No, she didn’t.”
“Anita told Melissa she was going to kill her. Did Anita tell you she wanted to kill Melissa?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did she ever ask you to help her get back at Melissa?”
“No.”
3
While he was eating lunch at a Japanese restaurant in the Mira Mesa Market Center, Hagan thought about Alice Cannon and her crazy child abduction story. Had she made her story up?
Why would she lie? Melissa was dead, Alice had nothing to gain. She wouldn’t have made up such a story for fun, that was for sure.
Either Melissa had really been stolen from Alice thirteen years ago or Alice was mentally ill and the abduction was a figment of her imagination.
Hagan came to Anita Caruso’s house again at two-thirty in the afternoon. Edward told him that his sister was home, and let him in. Anita was lying on the sofa in the living room watching TV. She was skinny and had brown wavy hair. When she saw Hagan, the girl sat up and swung her feet onto the floor.
“I’ll be in my room,” Edward said to Anita, and left the room.
“Hi, Anita.” Hagan pulled out his badge and showed it to the girl.
“Hi,” Anita said.
“I’m Detective Hagan with the San Diego Police Department. I need to ask
you a few questions.”
“Okay.” Anita picked up the remote and muted the TV.
“You just finished middle school, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What school did you go to?”
“Marshall.”
Anita had gone to the same school as Melissa.
“Do you know Dylan Downing?”
“Yes.”
“He used to be your boyfriend, didn’t he?”
Anita nodded. “Yes.”
“He broke up with you for another girl two months ago. That girl’s name is Melissa Keener. Did you ever meet her?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Were you angry with her?”
“I didn’t like her.”
“Do you know what happened to Melissa two weeks ago?”
“I heard she died.”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“A friend of mine.”
“Did your friend tell you how Melissa died?”
“She was murdered.”
“Do you know who killed Melissa?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I was told you threatened to kill Melissa.”
“Who told you that?”
“Dylan.”
“I didn’t mean it.”
“Where were you between two p.m. and six p.m. on June twenty-seventh?”
“I think I was with my boyfriend.”
Anita and Adam were each other’s alibi, and that didn’t help either of them one bit.
“Where?”
“Probably at his place.”
“What’s your boyfriend’s name?”
“Adam Linder.”
“He was Melissa’s boyfriend before Dylan, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was.”
“Did Adam ever ask you to help him kill Melissa?”
“No.”
“Did he ever ask you to help him punish Melissa for breaking up with him?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Did he want to get back at Melissa?”
“I don’t know.”
“He hated her, didn’t he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to get back with Dylan?”
“No.”
“Then why did you tell him you still loved him a week ago?”
“It was a lie. I don’t love him.”
“Are you glad Melissa’s dead?”
“No.”
Melissa’s phone, which lay on the coffee table, beeped twice.
“So you don’t know who killed Melissa?” Hagan asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“And you had nothing to do with her murder?”
