The Girl Who Didn't Die--A Suspense Novel

by Tim Kizer

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Do you know what a lie detector is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you take a lie detector test?”

  “What questions are you going to ask me?”

  “We’ll ask you if you’re involved in Melissa’s murder.”

  “Okay, I’ll take the test.”

  Hagan took out his card and gave it to Anita. “When your parents come home, ask them to call me.” He stood up. “Can you show me your brother’s room?”

  Anita led him into the hallway and pointed to the second door on the left, behind which rap music was playing. “This is his room.”

  Hagan knocked and asked if he could come in. Edward let Hagan in, stopped the music, and then sat on the bed, staring at the detective.

  “Did Anita ever ask you to rough up a girl named Melissa Keener?” Hagan said.

  Edward shook his head. “No.”

  “Did she ever mention the name Melissa?”

  “Yeah. It’s the girl who stole her last boyfriend.”

  “Did Anita ever ask you to help her get back at Melissa?”

  “No.”

  4

  Anita’s father, Frank Caruso, called Hagan at half past six, fifty minutes after his conversation with Alice Cannon.

  “Why didn’t you call me before interrogating my daughter?” Caruso said indignantly. “She’s a child. You’re not allowed to interrogate children without their parents present.”

  “Mister Caruso, you’re wrong,” Hagan said. “Police are allowed to question minors without notifying their parents.”

  “Your boss will hear about this, I promise.”

  “Your daughter’s a person of interest in a murder investigation. She’s agreed to take a lie detector test. Does she have your permission to do it?”

  “Anita didn’t kill that girl. She’s not capable of murder.”

  “If Anita’s innocent, she’ll have no trouble passing the test.”

  “Why do you suspect her?”

  “She threatened to kill the victim. Does she have your permission to take a lie detector test?”

  “Okay, she’ll take it.”

  5

  The next day, Hagan interviewed seven of Anita Caruso’s and Adam Linder’s friends. None of them had heard Anita or Adam admit to killing Melissa Keener.

  Chapter 9

  1

  What if the police handwriting experts concluded that it was her signature on the consent to adoption form? LaCross might have hired a professional forger to counterfeit her signature. They might have used her signature on her hospital admission form as an example.

  Alice didn’t want to dwell on that: negative thinking was counterproductive.

  On Thursday she called Hagan to find out if he had gotten a copy of the consent to adoption form.

  “Have you interrogated John LaCross yet?” she asked.

  “No, but I will very soon,” Hagan said. “Maybe this week.”

  “Don’t forget to check my signature on the consent to adoption form. Have you gotten a copy of the form yet?”

  “No, I haven’t. By the way, I need an example of your signature from thirteen years ago.”

  “I can give you a copy of the apartment lease I signed eleven years ago.”

  “Okay. Email me the signature page of the lease.”

  “You should tap LaCross’ phone. And the agency’s phones, too.”

  There was silence on the line.

  “Alice, maybe you forgot that you gave up your daughter for adoption?” Hagan finally said.

  “Forgot? How do you forget something like that?”

  “Did you have a concussion before we met?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Were you hit on the head before we met?”

  Eight years ago, she had rear-ended a car on the way home from work. The impact hadn’t been hard, and neither Alice nor the driver of the vehicle she had collided with had sustained any injuries. Had she hit her head in that accident?

  She hadn’t bumped her head on the steering wheel or the windshield as she had worn a seatbelt.

  “I never hit my head hard enough to lose my memory,” Alice said.

  “Maybe you forgot that you gave up your daughter because it was a highly traumatic event? It’s called dissociative amnesia.”

  Giving up a child for adoption would certainly have been a very traumatic event to her. An event she would have wanted to forget.

  But why would she have given up Melissa? She had loved her baby with all her heart, she had looked forward to raising her.

  She would never have given up her daughter. Never.

  “I’d never have given up Melissa for adoption,” Alice said. “I had no reason to do it.”

  “Did you earn enough money to support a child when Melissa was born?”

  “I wasn’t rich, but I wasn’t dirt poor, either.”

  “Did your parents support your decision to have a child?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have an idea. And I think it’s a good idea. You should try hypnosis.”

  “What for?”

  “It might help you remember if you gave up your daughter for adoption.”

  “I did not give up Melissa for adoption.”

  “Think about it, Alice.”

  She couldn’t blame Hagan for not believing her story, could she? So far she hadn’t presented a single piece of evidence that Melissa had been stolen from her.

  “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

  When Alice got home, she scanned the signature page of the apartment lease and emailed it to Detective Hagan.

  2

  Maybe she had given up Melissa for adoption because she had thought that Ryan would get back with her if Melissa was out of the picture?

  Had she still loved Ryan when Melissa was born?

  She hadn’t hated Ryan then. She might still have had some feelings for him.

  Had those feelings been strong enough for her to give up Melissa?

  No, they hadn’t.

  Maybe I forgot that I was mad about Ryan when Melissa was born?

  Was Hagan right? Had she really forgotten that she had given up Melissa for adoption?

  No one told me that Melissa died and no one showed me her body. I imagined all of it.

  What about the urn with Melissa’s ashes? Had she imagined it, too?

  I shouldn’t have scattered the ashes.

  She should ask the funeral home about Melissa’s cremation. What was its name?

  Alice closed her eyes.

  What was the name of the funeral home?

  She spent five minutes trying to remember the name of the funeral home, then switched on her laptop, and did an online search for “cremation services Riverside.”

  One name rang a bell: Trinity Cremation Services.

  Trinity Cremation Services. Yes, that was the funeral home that had handled Melissa’s cremation.

  Alice picked up her phone and dialed the number of Trinity Cremation Services.

  “Trinity Cremation Services,” a male voice answered after two rings. “My name’s James. How can I help you?”

  “You handled the cremation of my daughter, and I’d like to know the date the cremation took place.”

  “What’s your daughter’s name?”

  “Melissa Cannon.”

  Alice could hear James typing.

  “When did she pass away?”

  Alice told James the date of Melissa’s death.

  “That’s a long time ago,” James said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Half a minute later the operator said, “Can you spell her last name?”

  “C-A-N-N-O-N.”

  “I can’t find her in our system. Are you sure it was us who handled her cremation?”

  “Yes. You sent me an urn with her ashes. Please try my name. It’s Alice Cannon.”

  “Okay. Just a moment.”

  Who had told her that the hospital co
uld arrange Melissa’s cremation?

  It was the nurse who had shown her Melissa’s body. She had said, “Would you like the hospital to arrange your daughter’s cremation?”

  Alice had asked her how much the cremation cost, and the nurse had said that the hospital would pay for everything.

  That nurse must have lied. There had been no cremation. It was Melissa’s abductors who had sent her the urn.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t find your name in the system, either,” James said.

  “Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.”

  Alice hung up.

  Did I imagine the urn and the ashes?

  Whom had she shown the urn to?

  Her mother. Yes, her mother had seen the urn. Rebecca had accompanied Alice to Huntington Beach and watched as she scattered Melissa’s ashes in the ocean.

  Had anyone else seen the urn?

  No, her mother had been the only person who had seen it.

  She had no proof that she had received an urn with ashes.

  So what? To hell with Hagan. Her memory was fine.

  Alice went into the kitchen, took a bowl of mashed potatoes from the refrigerator, put it in the microwave, and then returned to the living room.

  The killer had sent the Keeners text messages from Melissa’s phone to make it look as if she had been at her friend’s place. Why had he done it?

  Perhaps he had wanted to delay the Keeners reporting Melissa missing.

  Why had the killer wanted to delay the Keeners reporting Melissa missing?

  Why had the killer smashed Melissa’s face?

  He had probably wanted to prevent her body from being identified.

  The killer wouldn’t have cared if Melissa’s body was identified if there was no connection between him and the girl.

  The killer wasn’t some random psycho or serial killer. He and Melissa had known each other.

  Her cellphone rang. Alice looked at the screen and saw that the call was from a blocked number. She tapped the Answer button.

  “Hello,” a man’s voice said. “Is this Alice Cannon?”

  “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Jeb. I know who killed Melissa.”

  The microwave beeped in the kitchen.

  “Who was it?”

  “I’ll tell you when the time is right.”

  Was it a prank? It must be a prank.

  “Please tell me now.”

  “I can’t. Don’t tell the police about me, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Because cops are idiots.”

  “When will the time be right?”

  “Soon.”

  “Where did you get my number?”

  “From a friend.”

  “Is this a joke? I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

  “I’m very serious, Alice. I know who killed your daughter and I’ll give you the name when the time is right. Goodbye.” He hung up.

  Did Jeb really know who had killed Melissa, or was he playing a prank?

  Alice hoped it wasn’t a practical joke.

  Maybe Jeb was Melissa’s killer? Some criminals liked to brag about their misdeeds.

  Chapter 10

  1

  Adam Linder and Anita Caruso had not discussed killing Melissa in their text, email, or Facebook messages. On May 18, Anita had sent Melissa a text saying, “If you don’t break up with Dylan, I’ll fuck you up.” Adam had sent no threatening messages to Melissa.

  Neither Adam nor Anita had confessed to murdering Melissa in their text, email, or Facebook messages.

  At 1:04 p.m. on June 27, Adam had called Anita and talked to her for forty-two seconds.

  The geolocation records showed that between 2:00 p.m. and 5:08 p.m. on June 27 Adam Linder’s and Anita Caruso’s phones had been connected to the cell tower on Scripps Poway Parkway and Spring Canyon Road, which was the nearest cell tower to where Melissa had been murdered. This tower was also the nearest one to Adam’s house.

  Between 5:08 p.m. and 7:05 p.m. Adam’s and Anita’s phones had been connected to the cell tower on Mira Mesa Boulevard and Westview Parkway, which was about two miles from where Melissa had been murdered and about three miles from Adam’s house.

  Unfortunately for Adam and Anita, the geolocation records placed them close enough to the scene of Melissa’s murder for them to remain suspects.

  2

  The man who opened the door looked like Henry Dixon. He was slender, stood about five-eleven, and had a narrow tanned face with pockmarked cheeks.

  “Are you Henry Dixon?” Hagan pulled the search warrant from his pocket.

  “Yeah.” Dixon looked at Hagan’s partner, Detective Adolfo Valdez, and Officers Michael McCann and William Kellner, who stood to Hagan’s right.

  “I’m Detective Hagan with the San Diego Police Department. We have a warrant to search your residence and vehicle.” Hagan handed the search warrant to Dixon.

  “Please come in.” Dixon stepped aside, and the cops entered the apartment.

  “Do you know Tyler Simmons?” Hagan asked.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Is your roommate home?”

  “Yeah.”

  On June 26, the day before Melissa’s murder, at 7:12 p.m., someone named Tyler had texted to Melissa: “You wanna hang out tomorrow?”

  Melissa had replied: “Yeah.”

  Then Tyler had texted: “Let’s meet in Scripps Ranch Park at 2.”

  Melissa had replied: “OK.”

  The Scripps Ranch Community Park was just a fifteen-minute walk from Melissa’s house.

  On June 27, Tyler had called Melissa at 11:13 a.m. and then the girl had called him at 1:58 p.m. Both calls had lasted less than one minute.

  Was Tyler Melissa’s killer? He might have murdered her because she had refused to have sex with him.

  Hagan discovered that Tyler had used a disposable phone to communicate with Melissa. The Keeners told him that Melissa had never mentioned the name Tyler.

  The only place in the Scripps Ranch Community Park that had surveillance cameras was the recreation center building. The security tape did not show Melissa entering the recreation center building on June 27.

  Seeking to identify Tyler, Hagan searched Melissa’s Facebook inbox for his phone number and found a message that contained it. The message was from a user named Tyler Simmons, and had been sent on June 9. Tyler was seventeen years old, lived in San Diego, and went to La Jolla High School. The phone number associated with Tyler’s Facebook account was the number the boy had given to Melissa.

  When La Jolla High School told Hagan that it didn’t have a student named Tyler Simmons, he realized that Tyler Simmons might be a fake name. Hagan asked Facebook for the IP addresses from which Tyler’s account had been accessed in June and July, and found out that in that period Tyler had logged into his account every day and always from the same computer and the same IP address, which was assigned to a thirty-two-year old man named Henry Dixon. Dixon lived in an apartment in the Clairemont Mesa East neighborhood, which he shared with a guy named Mark Portin, who was twenty-eight. Neither Portin nor Dixon had a criminal record. Neither of them looked like Tyler Simmons.

  3

  Mark Portin didn’t know anyone named Tyler Simmons, either.

  As Detective Valdez searched Dixon’s desk, he found a cellphone in a drawer. When Dixon saw the phone, he said that it wasn’t his.

  “Whose is it?” Valdez asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  Hagan took the phone from his partner, switched it on, and discovered that it was locked with a passcode. He pulled out his cell and dialed Tyler Simmons’ number. The phone found in the desk drawer began to ring.

  When the search was over, Dixon asked Hagan, “When will I get my car and my stuff back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe never,” Hagan said. “What’s your work schedule like?”

  “I work Monday through Friday from eight to five.”

  “Don’t leave town, Mister Dixon.”

>   Chapter 11

  1

  On Friday, July 14, Anita Caruso took a lie detector test at San Diego Police Department headquarters. The examiner asked Anita three relevant questions: “Did you murder Melissa Keener?,” “Do you know who murdered Melissa Keener?,” and “Were you present when Melissa Keener was murdered?” All three questions were answered no. The examiner concluded that Anita’s answers to the first and second questions were deceptive and her answer to the third question was truthful.

  Anita had murdered Melissa, but she hadn’t been present at the scene of the crime? How was that possible?

  Perhaps she had beaten the polygraph when she responded to the third question.

  “Maybe she had her boyfriend kill Melissa,” Valdez said.

  2

  Henry Dixon sat with his arms folded across his narrow chest, eyeing Hagan with interest. Hagan opened his notepad and said, “I’m Detective Stephen Hagan. We met last Thursday.”

  “I remember you,” Dixon said. “Can I get my car and my stuff back today?”

  “We’ll talk about that later. Do you know why we brought you here?”

  “No.”

  “It’s about your friend Melissa Keener.”

  “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No.”

  Hagan placed Melissa’s photograph on the table in front of Dixon. “Do you know this girl?”

  Dixon looked at the picture and then said, “No, I don’t know her.”

  “You’ve never met her?”

  “No.”

  “You’ve never contacted her?”

  “No.”

  Hagan picked up the tablet computer, opened the Internet browser, and went to Tyler Simmons’ Facebook page.

  “Is this your Facebook page?” Hagan put the tablet in front of Dixon.

  Looking at the screen, Dixon said, “No, it’s not. My name is Henry Dixon.”

  “You logged into Tyler Simmons’ Facebook account from your laptop over a hundred times in the last two months. I believe you set up this account. There’s nothing wrong with that, Henry. A lot of people create fake Facebook accounts.”

  The door opened, and Detective Valdez, who had been watching Dixon’s interrogation in the monitoring room, came in with his notepad under his arm. He set the notepad on the table and sat down next to Hagan.