The Vanished

by Tim Kizer

Now he’ll ask me to undergo hypnosis to refresh my memory, David thought.

  Barton folded the map and said, “Why did you decide to confess?”

  “Conscience.”

  “You did the right thing, David.”

  “Can I use my phone? I need to send a message.”

  “Okay.”

  David pulled his cell from his pocket, opened the email application, and composed a new message, which read: “I made the confession.” Then he typed ‘pizza789@mail.ru’ into the To field and tapped the Send button.

  Would the kidnapper believe that he had made the confession?

  He’s not going to take my word for it, that’s for sure.

  The kidnapper would want confirmation. Did he have a friend working for the Plano Police Department or the District Attorney’s Office of Collin County?

  Maybe he was planning to get the confirmation from the newspapers or the TV news?

  “Are you going to hold a press conference to announce that I confessed?” David asked Barton.

  “No.”

  “When are you going to tell the press that I confessed to Annie’s murder?”

  “Soon.”

  “Can you do it today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please do it today.”

  Barton crossed his arms over his chest. “You are one strange fellow, David.”

  “I guess I am.”

  2

  Barton did not arrest him after the interview, but David expected to be behind bars within days: he was sure the prosecution was going to ask the judge to revoke his bail, and he had little doubt the judge would grant this request. When they left the interview room, Barton asked David to try and remember where he had buried Annie’s body.

  At ten minutes past noon David walked into Aaron Brady’s office. The cheerful expression on the lawyer’s face gave way to a mixture of shock and bewilderment when David told him about his confession.

  “Why did you do it?” Brady asked. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “I got tired of lying.”

  “David, they had a weak case. No jury in this country would have convicted you.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Do you want to go to prison? Do you want to die?”

  “No, I don’t want to die.”

  Brady sighed. “You should have talked to me before making this confession.”

  “You would have tried to talk me out of it.”

  “Yes, I would.”

  David checked his email inbox to see if there were any messages from the kidnapper. There were none.

  “We need to get the prosecution to take the death penalty off the table,” he said.

  “How are we going to do it? You’ve already given them your confession.”

  “I’ll plead guilty. I want you to contact the prosecutor today.”

  “Okay.”

  Did the kidnapper think that he would be locked up immediately after he made the confession? Was that why “Ben” hadn’t replied to his email?

  “David, I advise you to recant this confession.”

  “I’m not recanting it.”

  “You’re making a big mistake. A terrible mistake. Are you taking antidepressants? They mess with your head.”

  The kidnapper might conclude he had lied about the confession when he found out he was still free.

  “No, I’m not taking antidepressants. I confessed because I did it.”

  “I don’t care whether you did it or not. You don’t help the prosecution. That’s not how it works, David. You fight them tooth and nail.”

  “I want to pay for what I did.”

  Brady shook his head in exasperation. “Why did you confess?”

  “I already told you.”

  “No, I don’t believe you. You didn’t kill Annie. I’m as sure of it as I’ve ever been of anything.”

  “I did it, Aaron. I killed her. I failed the lie detector test, remember? And I confessed when I was under hypnosis, didn’t I?”

  Tapping his pen on the table, Brady nodded.

  “I want you to ask the judge to revoke my bail.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Please do it today.”

  3

  Pretending to be a Plano Police Department employee, David called The Dallas Morning News’s news tip line and informed the newspaper of his confession. When he got home, he told Carol that his bail might be revoked soon.

  “Why?” she asked. “Did you do something wrong?”

  “I don’t know. But that’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  He asked Carol not to tell Paul Sibert he was in jail.

  There was no mention of his confession on the websites of the local TV stations and newspapers when he searched them before going to bed.

  His bail was revoked the next morning. He turned himself in to the county jail at one o’clock in the afternoon. Carol cried when they parted in the jail lobby. She promised to visit him every day. As David kissed her one last time, it occurred to him that she might find out he had confessed to killing Annie by the end of the day: the news of his confession had been posted on the websites of The Dallas Morning News and the local ABC, NBC, CBS, and Fox affiliates this morning.

  But I won’t have to deal with that because I’ll be in jail, he thought.

  Chapter 15

  1

  On Monday afternoon, David called Paul Sibert to ask if he had heard from the manufacturer of the phone sent by “Ben.”

  “I just left you a message,” Paul said. “This phone was shipped to a store in Dallas called CJ Cellular on April tenth.”

  He gave David the address of the store. After talking to Paul, David passed the name and address of the store along to Vincent.

  Carol visited him on Tuesday morning. When he saw the intent look in her eyes, David thought: she knows about the confession.

  “Is it true?” Carol asked. “Did you kill Annie?”

  “Yes.”

  David felt a hard lump rise in his throat.

  “But you said she was alive.”

  “I lied.”

  “You showed me her picture.”

  “I sent it myself.” David looked away from Carol. “Go home. There’s nothing for us to talk about.”

  He shouldn’t have told Carol Annie was alive. He shouldn’t have shown her the photo. He had given her hope only to crush it later.

  “You said you spoke to the kidnapper.”

  “You didn’t believe me when I told you about it, did you?”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “I did it because she had epilepsy.”

  Carol shook her head. “It can’t be true.”

  “You don’t believe I killed her?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…” Tears sparkled in Carol’s eyes. She bit her lower lip. “I don’t know.”

  Because it’s hard to let go of the hope that Annie’s alive.

  “I did it, Carol. I killed Annie. Go home.” He stood up and left the visitation room.

  When David returned to his cell, he lay down on his bed and clasped his hands under his head. The thought of spending the rest of his life behind bars made his temples throb.

  How did the convicts do it? How did they endure prison for years, for decades?

  How do you stay sane in prison?

  But he wasn’t going to be locked up for decades, was he? He would be released when the kidnapper let go Annie.

  If he lets her go.

  After lunch, a guard escorted him to a small room in the administration block, which was furnished with a table and four chairs. There was a man in a brown tweed suit sitting at the table. He appeared to be in his early fifties and had a short well-groomed beard that covered his chin and cheeks. A black leather briefcase lay on the chair next to the man’s.

  They shook hands, and the man said, “My name’s Jeff Salto. I’m a psychiatrist. I’ve been engaged by the District Attorney’s Office of Collin County
to conduct your psychiatric evaluation. The purpose of this evaluation is to determine whether you’re competent to stand trial and to assess your mental state at the time of the alleged offense. Whatever you say to me during this interview is not confidential. Do you understand what it means?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Great.” Salto opened his notepad. “Do you have any questions before we begin?”

  “No.”

  “Very good.” Salto smiled.

  He asked David to state his name and date of birth, and then said, “I’m going to give you three words, and I’d like you to remember them. The words are: glass, zebra, yellow. Can you repeat them?”

  “Glass, zebra, yellow.”

  “Thank you.” Salto wrote something on his notepad. “Now tell me where we are.”

  “We’re in the Collin County Jail.”

  “Good. Now I want you to remember the following five digits: seven, three, one, nine, four. Can you recall them in reverse order?”

  “Four, nine, one, three, seven.”

  “Excellent. Do you have any trouble sleeping?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long did you sleep last night?”

  “Maybe about five hours.”

  “Do you currently have any emotional problems?”

  “I feel depressed because I killed my daughter.”

  “Sometimes people who are depressed have strange experiences. For example, they feel that others are trying to harm them. Has that happened to you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you believe someone’s trying to frame you for the murder of your daughter?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Have people been harassing you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think someone is plotting against you?”

  “No.”

  “Did you see or hear things other people couldn’t see or hear?”

  “No.”

  “What recreational drugs do you use?”

  “I don’t use any drugs.”

  “Have you thought of suicide?”

  David shook his head.

  “Do you have anxiety or panic attacks?”

  “No.”

  “Do you regret killing your daughter?”

  “Yes, I do. I’m very sorry I did it.”

  “Did someone make you kill your daughter?”

  “No.”

  Salto glanced at his watch and said, “Can you tell me the three words I asked you to remember in the beginning of the interview?”

  After a silence, David replied, “Glass, zebra, yellow.”

  “Thank you, David. Have you ever felt someone was reading your mind?”

  “No. I’m not insane, Jeff. I think it’s obvious.”

  “Do my questions irritate you?”

  David sighed. “No. Keep going please.”

  “Thank you.” The psychiatrist smiled. “Have you ever done something unusual, and then thought someone might have drugged you to make you do it?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Salto picked up a manila folder and opened it. “Can you tell me what you’ve been charged with?”

  “I’ve been charged with murdering my daughter, Annie.”

  In order to be deemed competent to stand trial, the defendant had to be capable of appreciating the charges made against him or her. Other requirements included the ability to understand the possible penalties and the nature of the legal process, and to consult with his or her lawyer with a reasonable degree of rational comprehension.

  “Is it or a major or a minor charge?” the psychiatrist asked.

  “It’s a major charge.”

  “If you’re found guilty as charged, what are the possible penalties that could be applied to you?”

  “Life sentence, death.”

  “I was told that you confessed to killing your daughter. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me how you killed her.”

  “I stabbed her to death.”

  “Why did you do it?”

  “She had epilepsy. I didn’t want to have a sick child.”

  “Have you ever been on trial before?”

  “No.”

  “Do you realize that you’ll have to control yourself in the courtroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think the court where you’ll be tried has authority over you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me what the defense attorney’s job is in the courtroom during a trial?”

  “The defense attorney’s job is to vigorously defend his client. And the prosecutor’s job is to prove the defendant’s guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. I understand how the process works. I was a prosecutor for nine years. It must be somewhere in your files.”

  He shouldn’t be so testy with Salto. The guy was just doing his job.

  “That’s great. Do you have confidence in your lawyer?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  After ascertaining that David understood the roles of the judge, the prosecutor, the defendant, the jury, and witnesses, Salto asked, “What are the chances that you’ll be found not guilty?”

  “Zero.”

  “Suppose your lawyer succeeds in getting you acquitted. Would you accept that?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m guilty.”

  “If you’re found guilty, will you allow your lawyer to appeal the verdict?”

  “No.”

  Chapter 16

  1

  Vincent went to CJ Cellular shortly after he got the address from David. The store was located in a small strip mall in western Dallas. An olive-skinned man in his thirties with slicked-back black hair and a five o’clock shadow was sitting behind the counter. When David entered the store, the man glanced at him and smiled.

  “Hi, how are you doing?” Vincent said.

  “I’m good. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. What’s your name?”

  “Hasan.”

  “My name’s Vincent. Would you like to make five hundred dollars?”

  “Yeah. What do I have to do?” Hasan stood up.

  “About a month ago you sold this phone.” Vincent showed Hasan the picture of the cell David had received from the kidnappers. “It’s LG440G. I’m looking for the person who bought it.”

  “Do you want me to remember who bought it?”

  “No. Do you have security cameras here?”

  “Yes.”

  “How long do you store surveillance video?”

  “Two months.”

  “I want you to give me a copy of the surveillance video from April second to May second. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. Why are you looking for this guy?”

  “I’m a private investigator. I’m doing this for my client.”

  Hasan nodded.

  “I also need a list of all sales of LG440G that took place from April second to May second, and I want it to show what time a sale was made.”

  “I don’t think our system can do that. I can give you a daily sales breakdown report.”

  “Okay, I’ll take it.” Vincent gave Hasan a flash drive and asked him to copy the surveillance video to it.

  When Hasan finished copying the video, Vincent purchased an LG440G phone so his investigators would know what to look for in the surveillance footage.

  He didn’t hold out much hope of finding the buyer of the phone. CJ Cellular had sold three hundred and eleven LG440G phones from April 2 to May 2, and any of those cellphones could be the cellphone sent by the kidnappers. He was going to have the images of the customers who had bought the phones run through the Dallas Police Department’s facial recognition system, but the problem was the quality of the surveillance video was rather poor, and as a result the success rate was going to be low.

  If the kidnapper was smart, he had worn some kind of disguise (a hood and sunglasses, for example) when he purchased the phone, and paid with cash.

 
He had found no fingerprints on the phone that didn’t belong to either him or David. The envelope offered no clues, either.

  He and David were out of ideas, and when you’re out of ideas, it’s time to think outside the box.

  In movies, the culprit was often the person you least suspected. Who was the least suspected person in this case?

  Carol Miller.

  Could Carol Miller be behind all this?

  Yes, she could. What would her motive be? Money. If David was convicted of Annie’s murder, Carol would be in control of his money. She would have all the benefits of being a rich man’s wife, and none of the responsibilities. And she would get all David’s money after he died behind bars, which was highly likely because child murderers tended to get killed in prison.

  Would Carol have dared to kill Annie? Vincent wanted to believe the girl was still alive.

  She must have an accomplice: someone had to take care of Annie. Maybe she had a lover, and the lover was her accomplice? There was only one way to find out: he had to investigate Carol.

  2

  On Wednesday afternoon Aaron Brady came to report on his negotiations with the district attorney’s office.

  “They want you to plead guilty to murder and tampering with evidence,” the lawyer said. “They’re going to recommend a life sentence, and I’m sure they’ll get it.”

  If he accepted this deal, he would be eligible for parole in thirty years.

  Thirty years.

  “What do you think?” David asked.

  “I think we should try to get it down to manslaughter.”

  In his situation, a manslaughter conviction would most likely result in a twenty-year sentence, the maximum prison term for the offense. He would be eligible for parole after serving ten years.

  “They’re not going to agree to it. Annie was only five.”

  As long as his life was spared, the length of his sentence didn’t matter because in six years the kidnapper would release Annie and he would be exonerated.

  How do you know he’ll keep his promise, pal?

  Six years was a long time. The kidnapper might change his mind. He might kill Annie, or she might die in an accident.

  “They can’t get a conviction without your confession,” Brady said. “If you retract your confession, the case falls apart.”

  He had to fight for the best plea bargain possible. End of discussion.