The Vanished

by Tim Kizer

  Maybe the kidnapper hadn’t chopped Annie into pieces. Maybe he had only cut off her head. Was Barton going to take him to the morgue and show him Annie’s headless body?

  Barton took him to Interview Room #2. As they went, the detective asked David how he was holding up.

  “Not so good,” David said.

  When he entered the room, David saw a man with a shaved head in a gray suit sitting at the interview table. Barton introduced the man as Ivan Fonseca. There was a black aluminum case with a handle on the table in front of Fonseca.

  “Did you find Annie’s body?” David asked Barton.

  Barton looked at him for a long moment and then said, “Do you have something to tell me?”

  “You took her hair for DNA testing. It means you found her blood or her body.”

  “I’ll tell you what we found in a few minutes. But first I want you to do me a favor. We need to take your fingerprints.”

  “All right,” David said.

  Fonseca popped the latches and opened the case, revealing a fingerprint station kit. As Fonseca placed a fingerprint card into the holder, David noticed that his name was written on it.

  When his colleague finished taking David’s fingerprints, Barton asked David, “Are you in a hurry?”

  “No,” David said, wiping the ink off his fingers.

  “Do you mind waiting here for an hour? We have to check something.”

  When the hell are you going to tell me what you found?

  “Okay.”

  The cops stood up and left the room. David propped his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hands.

  Had they found something that had his fingerprints on it?

  They found the cleaver used to cut up Annie’s body, and it has my fingerprints on it.

  Strangely, this idea seemed very plausible to him.

  David had a feeling that Barton had duped him. He didn’t know how he had been duped, but he supposed he would find that out very soon.

  How did the saying go? If you can’t spot the sucker at the poker table, then the sucker is you.

  Barton came back an hour and ten minutes later with a computer tablet and a manila folder in his hand. He put the tablet and the folder on the table in front of him and then said, “Thank you for waiting, David.”

  “So what did you find?” David asked.

  “I want to show you something first.” Barton pressed the Home button on the tablet, and the device came to life. There was a paused video on the screen, and David quickly realized that it was the video of his hypnosis session with Dr. Weil. The detective tapped the Play button and leaned the tablet against the wall.

  “Now I’m going to ask you a few questions, and I want you to be completely honest with me,” Robert Weil said off-camera. “Your daughter Annie went missing last Friday. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “Yes,” the hypnotized David Miller said.

  “Tell me what happened to your daughter?”

  “I… She’s dead.”

  “How did she die?”

  “I killed her.”

  “You killed Annie?”

  “Yes. I killed her.”

  “How did you kill her?”

  “I stabbed her with a knife.”

  “Where’s Annie’s body?”

  “It’s buried in the forest.”

  “What forest?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “Where’s the knife you stabbed Annie with?”

  “It’s in the bushes behind the restrooms in Ardmore Park.”

  Barton tapped the Pause button. David leaned back in his chair and folded his arms on his chest, his eyes fixed on the door.

  He had been right: the detective had indeed duped him.

  “What do you think about that, David?” Barton asked.

  David licked his lips and said, “You lied to me, Detective. You said you were going to use hypnosis to help me remember what I saw in the park.”

  “The plan changed, sorry.”

  “Do you believe it? Do you believe what I said under hypnosis?”

  “I’d be less inclined to believe it if there were no evidence that it’s true. And the thing is, we have such evidence. Yesterday we went to Ardmore Park and searched the bushes behind the restrooms. Guess what we found? We found a knife with traces of Annie’s blood on it. And here’s the interesting part: the fingerprints on the knife belong to you.”

  “What?”

  “There are your fingerprints on the knife.”

  “Are you sure it’s Annie’s blood?”

  “Yes. A DNA test confirmed that it’s your daughter’s blood.”

  David frowned and dropped his gaze to the table. He had a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

  “Do you think this knife was used to kill Annie?” he asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Are there any other fingerprints on the knife besides mine?”

  “No. Only yours.”

  It was impossible. He had never tossed any knives in the bushes in Ardmore Park.

  And he had not killed Annie.

  “Can I see the knife?”

  “I can show you its photo.” Barton leafed through the contents of the folder, found the picture of the knife, and gave it to David.

  It was a regular carving knife with a black handle. David did not recognize it. He returned the photo to the detective and asked, “When I was under hypnosis, did Dr. Weil ask me about the license plates?”

  “Yes. You said you didn’t remember.”

  Do you still think you have nothing to worry about? the voice in his head said.

  “Can I see that?”

  Why did I say I killed Annie while under hypnosis?

  That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

  “Sure. You can watch the whole thing at home.” Barton took a CD from his jacket pocket and handed it to David.

  “Do you think I killed Annie?”

  How had Annie’s blood gotten on that knife? Had the kidnapper slashed Annie’s hand with it? Had he stabbed her with it?

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Why would I kill my daughter? It just doesn’t make any sense.”

  “That’s a great question, David. Here’s my theory: you wanted to get rid of Annie because she had epilepsy. You got a defective child, and you refused to accept it. I suppose you thought that returning her to the orphanage would make you look bad.”

  “Are you serious? Do you understand how ridiculous it sounds?”

  “You think it’s ridiculous because it concerns you. I’m sure if you were a prosecutor in this case, you’d have no problem with this motive and you’d find convincing arguments for its legitimacy.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  A slight smile touched the detective’s lips. “I’ve been a cop for twenty years, and nothing surprises me anymore. Hundreds of kids are killed by their parents every year, I’m sure you know it. And sometimes they’re killed for strange reasons. There was a woman in New York who slowly poisoned her son to get attention and sympathy. They call it Münchausen syndrome by proxy. Her son was five years old when he died.” Barton paused. “Maybe it was a mercy killing. Maybe you thought she would be better off dead.”

  “Detective, epilepsy is a manageable condition. If Annie keeps taking medication, she’ll never have a major seizure again. Talk to her doctor if you don’t believe me. And I’m sure it’s obvious to you that I can afford her treatment.”

  “It’s only been five months. Who knows what will happen a year from now? Sometimes medication stops working.”

  “I did not kill my daughter! I did not kill her. I love Annie!” David clenched his hands into fists. “I want you to believe me.”

  “You see, David, it would have been much easier for me to believe you if we hadn’t found that knife.”

  “You have to believe me. You can’t close the case. You have to keep looking for the people who took Annie.”

  “How do you explai
n the knife? You must realize that I can’t ignore this evidence.”

  “They’re trying to set me up.”

  “Who’s trying to set you up? The kidnappers?”

  “Yes. They…” David scrambled for an answer—an answer that was somewhat credible. “They must have stolen that knife from my house.”

  That was an excellent explanation. That was the only rational explanation.

  “You understand that the jury isn’t going to buy it, don’t you?” Barton said.

  “If I was guilty, I wouldn’t have agreed to go under hypnosis. Think about it. No killer in his right mind would do that. It’s too risky.”

  “I guess you didn’t think we’d ask you if you’d killed Annie.”

  David looked at the computer tablet and said, “Confessions made under hypnosis are inadmissible in court.”

  “That’s true. We can’t use this confession in court, but we can use the knife.”

  It appeared the district attorney’s office had made the decision to file charges against him, or was seriously considering filing them. When he was charged with Annie’s murder, the police would stop looking for her since she would be assumed to be dead.

  Suddenly David remembered that there was a witness who could corroborate his story: Eddie. He hadn’t told the police about Eddie because Eddie couldn’t contribute any useful information.

  “Listen, Detective. There’s a witness who saw Annie being kidnapped. His name’s Eddie. I spoke to him ten minutes after Annie went missing. He said he saw a woman take my daughter with her.”

  “Do you have this guy’s contact information?”

  “No.”

  “Bring him to me when you find him, okay?” The detective opened the manila folder and lifted the top sheet of paper. “Here’s a search warrant for your residence and your vehicles.” Barton showed the document to David. “Did you come here in your car?”

  “Yes.”

  “We’re going to impound it. Do you want to take a cab or do you want an officer to take you home?”

  Scowling, David said, “I’ll take a cab.”

  2

  He had been an idiot. He shouldn’t have trusted Barton. He shouldn’t have agreed to undergo hypnosis.

  When David was in high school, his best friend’s dad, who was a self-proclaimed civil-rights fighter, had shared with him the rules he followed when dealing with the police. The main rule was: never invite the police into your life unless there's absolutely no other alternative. The second rule was: don’t trust the cops. The third was: deny, deny, deny. And the last rule was that you should never volunteer information to the police. One of the man’s favorite sayings was ‘You can indict a ham sandwich,’ which he viewed as an indication of the unfairness of the criminal justice system.

  Don’t trust the cops.

  He would probably have followed this rule if he hadn’t worked as a prosecutor for nine years.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake to move to Plano. If they had stayed in Tucson, none of this would have happened.

  They moved to Texas seven years ago, shortly after the death of David’s uncle Leonard Miller, who left his entire fortune to David. They had been married for half a year at that time. Leonard had made most of his money in the fertilizer and insecticide business, and after taxes his estate was worth twenty-eight million dollars. The house David and Carol lived in, a six-bedroom Mediterranean villa currently valued at three million dollars, had been Leonard’s last home. They had considered selling the mansion but changed their minds after falling in love with it.

  David supposed Uncle Leonard, who had been widowed and childless, had made him his sole heir because they had been very close since his childhood and because he was not a spendthrift.

  Although David loved his job at the Pima County Attorney’s office, he didn’t hesitate to quit: he enjoyed spending time with his family more than bringing criminals to justice.

  If they had stayed in Tucson, Brian would still be alive.

  3

  When David arrived home, there were four police cruisers and a crime scene unit van parked in front of his house. He found Carol in the dining room, sitting alone at the table with a look of panic on her face. As soon as she saw him, she jumped to her feet and said worriedly, “David, what happened? Why are they searching our house?”

  “They’re trying to establish that Annie was not killed here.”

  Now she’s going to ask if the police consider me a suspect.

  “They took the cars.”

  “We’ll get them back in a few days.” David pulled a chair out from the table and sat down.

  “Should we call a lawyer?”

  “No. Honey, it’s a standard procedure. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  David’s arms broke out in goosebumps when it occurred to him that the people who had put the knife in the bushes behind the restrooms in Ardmore Park might have planted another piece of evidence in his house or his car. Annie’s sock stained with her blood, for example.

  “What did Barton tell you?”

  “He asked me to look at some pictures.”

  David lied because the truth might have confused Carol, caused her to doubt his innocence, which would have made her even more miserable.

  “What kind of pictures?”

  “Pictures of sex offenders.”

  He didn’t care if Carol didn’t believe him. Right now his main concern was the search.

  Carol’s face relaxed a little. “So they didn’t find anything?”

  “No.”

  “That’s good.”

  Barton showed up at six o’clock. David persuaded Carol not to bother the detective with questions.

  The cops searched the mansion for over four hours. To David’s relief, they found no blood-stained garments or other evidence that someone had been murdered in the Millers’ house.

  Later that night David went to the study and watched the video of his hypnosis session. Barton had told him the truth, Dr. Weil had in fact tried to make him recall the license plates of the cars that had followed him into the parking lot of Ardmore Park, and he had in fact said he didn’t remember.

  Chapter 4

  1

  Barton had suggested that he find Eddie, and David decided to give it a try. He realized one witness was not enough to convince the detective that Annie had been kidnapped, but he had no other options.

  David arrived at Ardmore Park at two in the afternoon. He had chosen to come at this hour because his first encounter with Eddie had taken place around three o’clock. David remembered that Eddie had been dressed in a light green sweatshirt and blue jeans when they met. Judging by his appearance, Eddie was dead broke, so it was very likely he would be wearing that same outfit today. Moving at a brisk pace, he walked around the entire park, carefully surveying the grounds. He checked the face of every person he saw, including even those in women’s clothes. He looked in the men’s restroom and the pavilion, stopped by the volleyball court, circled the pond, and searched the parking lot.

  Eddie was nowhere to be seen.

  David took a five-minute break and then scoured the park again. He was going to do this until nine o’clock in the evening, just to be sure. He planned to look for Eddie for at least seven days and didn’t expect to find him today.

  After he walked around the park for the third time, David settled on a picnic bench in the shade of a large elm tree to cool down. His hair was damp with sweat. He took off his sunglasses, wiped them with his T-shirt, and then slipped them back on.

  Was he wasting his time? Was Barton going to talk to Eddie?

  Barton would have to listen to what Eddie had to say. It was his job to talk to witnesses.

  Had the kidnappers planted any incriminating evidence in his car?

  David drank the rest of the water in his bottle. About three minutes later, he heard a male voice: “Excuse me, sir, do you have a cigarette?”

  When David turned to say that he didn’t smoke, he saw that th
e man who had hit him up for a cigarette was Eddie. His hair was still a mess, and the sweatshirt and jeans he had on were almost certainly the same sweatshirt and jeans he had worn on the day Annie had been kidnapped.

  “Hi. Your name’s Eddie, isn’t it?” David said.

  “Yeah. How do you know my name?”

  “We met last Friday. I was looking for my daughter, and you said you saw her with some woman.” David stood up, took Annie’s picture from his shirt pocket, and showed it to Eddie. “This is my daughter.”

  Scratching the back of his head, Eddie thought for a few seconds and said, “Yeah, I remember that. Did you find her?”

  “No. I need your help, Eddie.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “I need you to tell the police what you saw. It’s a matter of life and death, and every bit of information is important.”

  Would it be okay to offer Eddie money for his cooperation? David saw nothing wrong in it. It wasn’t illegal to reimburse a witness for his time.

  “Police?” Eddie said.

  “I’ll give you fifty dollars if you do it.”

  “Fifty? I don’t know.” Eddie wrinkled his brow.

  “Please. My daughter’s been kidnapped. Please help us find her.”

  Maybe Eddie had an outstanding warrant for his arrest?

  “How long is it going to take?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “I don’t have a car.”

  “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “How about a hundred? I’m a busy man, you know.”

  “Okay. A hundred dollars.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “David. David Miller.”

  When they got in the car, David called Barton and asked if they could meet today. He didn’t tell the detective about Eddie.

  “Let’s meet at the station in forty minutes,” Barton said.

  As David pocketed his phone, an idea occurred to him: if the police stopped looking for Annie, he would hire a private investigator. Actually he ought to hire a private investigator as soon as possible.

  2

  “Who is it?” Barton asked, looking at Eddie, who was standing next to David.

  “He’s the witness I told you about yesterday,” David said. “His name’s Ed. He was in Ardmore Park last Friday and saw a woman take my daughter away. Please talk to him.”