Getting to her feet, she padded toward the glass door and peered out. Beyond the glare of the overhead light on the deck—and all the insects swirling around it—she could see the dinghy gently swaying on the dark water. Nothing had been disturbed. Nothing looked suspicious.
She glanced out the picture windows on her left and right. She didn’t see anybody out there. And yet, she still felt someone watching.
There were a couple of things she’d never completely gotten used to in all her years living on the lake. First, every little noise carried on the water. Worse, she felt so exposed—particularly in that living room with its huge windows. There were no bushes or trees between her and the outside world. All it took were a good pair of binoculars, and anyone could have watched her—from a boat, a neighboring dock, or even the other side of Lake Union. Anna rarely closed her curtains in the living room except in her most private moments. The main point to living on a floating home was the incredible view. The trade-off was her privacy—and feeling vulnerable on nights like this when she was scared.
It was quiet now.
The ringing phone startled her. A hand over her heart, Anna hurried back to the sofa and swiped the phone off the cushion. The caller ID read: Unknown Caller.
She immediately thought of Courtney. Every time Anna had called her today, it had gone directly to the provider’s impersonal voice mail greeting, leading her to believe that Courtney’s phone was damaged or disabled.
Was this Courtney, calling from a pay phone or some kind of burner phone?
Anna tapped the phone screen to pick up. “Hello?”
A strange groan came from the other end. It sounded almost inhuman.
Anna winced.
Somewhere nearby, a car alarm went off. It competed with the raspy voice murmuring something on the other end. It came across as gibberish.
Anna covered her left ear to hear whoever was on the phone. “Hello?” she repeated.
“You’re . . . not . . . fooling . . . anyone,” the unknown caller said in a strange, singsong tone.
“What? Who is this?”
Anna listened. The person hadn’t hung up yet. But she could clearly hear an echo in the background. It was the car alarm that had gone off.
The caller was close by.
“Who’s there?” Anna asked, her voice turning shrill. “Who is this?”
Then she heard a click.
“I remember hitting her in the head with that thing. It’s so clear to me now. I can almost hear the crack—and the strange, sickly warble that came out of her mouth. I was splattered with blood . . . It was all down the front of me—on my clothes and my sneakers. I felt the droplets on my face . . . A drop must have gotten in my mouth. It tasted like copper. When I went into the bathroom to get the towels to wrap around her head, I stopped and rinsed out my mouth at the sink. But I could still taste that little bit of blood—like an old penny.”
—Excerpt: Session 3, audio recording
with Dr. G. Tolman, July 23
CHAPTER FIVE
Saturday, July 11—12:47 A.M.
On Golden Girls, Blanche said something funny in her Southern accent, and it sent the studio audience into hysterics. But Anna barely cracked a smile.
She was too damn nervous to find anything amusing right now.
Curled up on the sofa, she had the phone and a steak knife on the cushion beside her. The living room lights were on. The curtains were drawn. And she’d double-checked that the windows and doors were locked. With everything closed up, she had the fan on to keep from sweltering.
Anna desperately wanted to call Russ, but figured he was asleep.
She kept reminding herself that what the caller had said wasn’t exactly threatening. In fact, it hadn’t made much sense—unless it had been Courtney, saying she knew all about her affair with Russ: “You’re . . . not . . . fooling . . . anyone.”
But it couldn’t have been Courtney. She couldn’t hear and talk on a regular pay phone or a burner phone. She usually texted.
Anna couldn’t help thinking about her stalker back in October. The unnerving late-night calls and hang-ups had been her tormentor’s specialty. But the creep had never actually said anything to her. Whenever she answered the phone, she’d hear background noise, and maybe an occasional sigh. She could feel the person listening—as if he or she just wanted to hear her voice. One night, she’d gotten nine calls at various intervals until she’d finally switched off her phone at two in the morning.
Was her tormentor back?
The car alarm from somewhere nearby had stopped blaring moments after she’d hung up. It hadn’t started up again. Anna knew the sound of her Mini Cooper’s alarm, and that hadn’t been it. So she knew her car was okay. No one had keyed it again. She figured the car alarm probably had nothing to do with the call.
Glancing at the clock on her cable box, Anna realized the call had been nearly forty-five minutes ago. If the caller had planned to phone again or pay her a visit, it would have happened by now. At least, that was what she told herself.
She would keep watching Golden Girls until she started to nod off. Even if she ended up falling asleep on the sofa, that was better than fretting over every little sound and tossing and turning until dawn in her bed upstairs.
Once again, the TV was her substitute for a boyfriend, keeping her company through the lonely hours and scary nights.
It was all she could do to keep from calling Russ. Sometimes, she wished she’d never met him. Maybe she would have been better off staying in Spokane.
She’d gotten her first job after college there, working as an associate producer for a Spokane station’s evening news. After a couple of years, she began to work with some of the news reporters, and on occasion, she put together little feature stories. Eventually, one of those stories came to the attention of the station head of KIXI-TV in Seattle, and Anna got the offer to work there.
Anna had been renting out the houseboat all that time. She gave her tenants their notice, cleaned up and remodeled the place, and moved back in. She focused on her career. KIXI-TV felt like a stepping-stone to a job with one of the networks. In fact, Anna could more clearly see herself on a prime-time network news show or a popular podcast than she could see herself in a steady relationship. She dated, but never really clicked with anyone. She remembered one guy asking on their first date about her previous relationships. When Anna admitted she’d never really had a long-term relationship, he said he felt sorry for her.
Last year, turning thirty had been damned depressing. Anna suddenly realized just how lonely she was. The milestone birthday had her suddenly aware of other women her age with husbands and families. Her clock was ticking, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was going to be alone for the rest of her life.
Anna remembered when she had a story assignment at Children’s Hospital, looking at all the sick kids and their families. She knew the parents were going through hell, and yet, she almost envied them, because they had someone to love and care about.
Anna was at the hospital because her program manager wanted coverage of a special visit there from Olympic gold medal figure skater Margaret Schramm. Anna hated doing stories like this because she knew it would feel exploitative, what with all the heart-tugging shots of the sick kids, some of them bald. But Margaret Schramm turned out to be a good sport and so much fun. Plus the kids and hospital staff were ecstatic to see her.
While Anna and George got coverage of Margaret chatting with some kids in the physical therapy room, Anna noticed a tall doctor among the parents and staff watching off camera. He wore a white coat with a visitor’s badge. He was so handsome that Anna thought he looked more like a soap opera actor playing a doctor than a real MD.
Everyone was watching Margaret Schramm, but the handsome doctor was looking at Anna—and smiling.
During a break in filming, he approached her. “You’re Anna Malone, aren’t you?” he said. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting you. I’m Russ Knol
l, and I’m a huge fan of your work.”
He was so charming, Anna might have been tongue-tied if she hadn’t managed to slide into her professional reporter mode. “Well, thank you,” she said, smiling cordially. She stole a glance at his left hand: no wedding ring.
She learned that he was a pediatrician in private practice. He was visiting one of his regular patients who was recovering from surgery there. She and Russ didn’t talk long, and no phone numbers were exchanged. But later, she couldn’t take her eyes off him as he talked to a little boy in a wheelchair and then conferred with the child’s parents.
The following afternoon, he called the station and left a message on her voice mail, asking her to dinner. By then, Anna had already Googled him and learned that Russell Knoll was thirty-three, and for the last six years, he’d been at First Hill Medicine, chalking up glowing reviews and recommendations online. Anna also came across a gorgeous photo of him in Seattle Magazine from a silly article entitled “Seattle’s Sexiest Doctors.” It was a strange, double standard because the article didn’t include any women doctors; and yet, if women doctors had been included, labeling them as sexy would have been viewed as incredibly chauvinistic. The feature was five years old, and there was no mention of a wife or girlfriend, just that he was a Mariners fan and loved swimming and rock climbing.
Anna was cautious during their first date—dinner at the Tin Table, a chic, semi-bohemian eatery in Seattle’s trendy Pike/Pine neighborhood. Working in TV, she’d encountered her share of glamour boys and been burned the few times she’d allowed herself to be vulnerable. She’d made up her mind that she wouldn’t let this gorgeous doctor sweep her off her feet.
But then, at dinner, he admitted he’d seen her on TV three years before, when she’d been at the station in Spokane. He’d been at a medical convention there. He even remembered the feature she’d done—about a decorated Vietnam vet, who was a mailman, ready to retire. “It was so well done,” Russ told her. “In just a couple of minutes, you made me feel like I really knew the guy. And when I saw you after the segment, talking about him, I have to admit, I was instantly smitten.”
Anna couldn’t believe a man nowadays actually used the word smitten, and she liked him for it. “Anyway, about a year ago, I caught you on the news here in Seattle,” he said. “I realized you’d moved. And I’ve had KIXI News programmed on my DVR ever since.”
He held her hand as they walked back to his car together. Then Russ kissed her good night at her door. By then, she was pretty damn smitten herself. It took all the willpower Anna could muster not to invite him in and take him to bed. That didn’t happen until the end of their third date. But a part of her still held back. She was wary about falling in love and getting her heart broken.
But she fell in love with him anyway. And the more Anna found out about Russ, the deeper she fell. He was a good man. He spent three weeks every year working nonstop and sleeping in a tent wherever Doctors Without Borders happened to need him.
Like her, he’d lost both his parents. He was the only child of a wealthy couple from Colorado Springs. During his third year in the University of Washington’s medical program, his parents were traveling with friends whose private plane crashed thirty minutes after takeoff from Phoenix.
Anna’s friend in Spokane, Christie, summed it up for her: “So—in addition to being gorgeous, he’s also sweet and altruistic, and rich. Plus, if you marry him, you won’t have to deal with any in-laws. Honey, hold on to him.”
Though she’d told her friend in Spokane all about Russ, Anna didn’t say anything to George—except that she was seeing someone. She claimed: “I’m afraid I’ll jinx it by talking too much about him.” But that was only half-true. She didn’t want to rub George’s nose in her happiness. She knew he and his drippy wife, Beebe, were having problems. Telling him about some guy who had her walking on air—that just seemed cruel.
Still, Anna figured the two men in her life had to meet sometime. A Humanities Washington fund-raiser dinner seemed like the perfect occasion. Anna and George had done a ten-minute promotional film for the nonprofit. It would be shown at the dinner, to which they’d both been invited. George was bringing Beebe. So Anna invited Russ. But he said he had to attend a medical convention in Tacoma that evening.
So Anna was dateless for the swanky dinner in the Spanish Ballroom of the Olympic Hotel. Still, she looked pretty sensational in a black Calvin Klein spaghetti-strap sheath. In fact, she seemed wildly overdressed next to Beebe, who wore a brown jumper over a black leotard. Her mousy brown hair was swept up in a messy bun with a couple of sticks in it. And around her neck, she sported a clunky piece of jewelry she’d made herself. Beebe considered herself an artist. She eyed Anna’s cocktail dress and put on a puzzled look. “Aren’t you afraid people won’t take you seriously when you’re wearing something so provocative?”
Beebe was always trying to put her down one way or another. She was such a sourpuss. Everybody at the station loved George, but no one could stand his wife.
“I don’t think this dress looks particularly provocative, Beebe,” she answered. “I think it’s pretty. That’s why I wore it. Excuse me . . .”
Anna glanced around for an escape route. That was when she noticed a tall man over near the bar.
It was Russ, looking handsome in a dark blue suit.
Anna figured he must have gotten out of the medical convention early or something. She couldn’t believe he’d decided to surprise her. It was the kind of thing a boyfriend or a husband did. She felt as if he was taking their relationship to another level by showing up like this. They weren’t just dating; they were a couple.
Anna eagerly headed through the crowd, toward Russ. She could see he was checking out the room. Obviously, he hadn’t spotted her yet.
She was just a few feet away when his eyes met hers.
“Well, this is sure pretty wonderful!” she called to him, beaming.
But he just stared back at her with a stunned, almost horrified look on his face.
Anna hesitated. She watched him turn away—toward another woman, a strikingly beautiful brunette in a blue sequined sleeveless dress. She planted a kiss on Russ’s cheek and set her drink in his hand. Then she turned to someone else and started talking in sign language.
Anna stood there frozen. Russ glanced her way for a second. He looked sick.
She was close enough to notice he was wearing something she’d never seen on him before: his wedding ring. It was there on his left hand, the same hand that held his wife’s drink for her.
Backing away, Anna bumped into another guest and knocked the woman’s wineglass out of her hand. The glass shattered on the floor. Utterly demoralized, Anna felt tears sting her eyes as she apologized to the woman. Everyone in the general vicinity was staring at her—except Russ’s wife. Had she not heard the glass break? She was still talking in sign language to someone. Was Russ’s wife deaf?
Anna managed to find George and told him she wasn’t feeling well. Then she got the hell out of there. She kept thinking Russ might try to meet up with her before she left the hotel, but he didn’t.
He probably never left his wife’s side.
During the taxi ride home, Anna felt sick to her stomach.
He called her an hour later, but she didn’t pick up. She listened to his message. “Hey, it’s me. God, Anna, I’m so sorry. I—I’m still at the hotel, in the lobby. I had no idea this was the same dinner you invited me to. Anyway, okay, yeah, that was my wife with me. Anna, please, I don’t expect you to forgive me. But just let me explain. I feel terrible. I’ll try to get away in a little while and come over.”
Ninety minutes later, he left two more voice mails and a text for her. He said he was at the locked gate at the end of her dock. He really needed to talk with her. Could she please let him in?
Anna didn’t respond to any of his messages, nor did she reply to the countless others that followed in the ensuing days. He even sent a long, rambling e-mail explaining his s
ituation. He and Courtney had been married for five years, the last three of which had been bad. They were both married to their careers. It was Courtney’s goal to become a bestselling author, and she’d decided to create a public image of herself as a strong, independent deaf woman. So she’d practically cut him out of her social life. Just weeks ago, they were on the brink of separating, and that was when he met Anna at Children’s Hospital. So I took off my wedding ring and introduced myself to a woman I’d had a crush on for years, he explained in his e-mail. I figured Courtney and I were separating soon, and then I could tell you. But around that same time, she got this new publicist who thought she should promote herself as half of a “high-profile Seattle power couple,” whatever the hell that means.
What it meant was that Russ had agreed to make several public appearances with Courtney if she agreed to a friendly divorce settlement in a year—sometime after her next book came out. Their marriage was just a facade.
He wrote to Anna that he hated deceiving her: I should have told you at the start that I was married, but I didn’t want to lose you. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Anna didn’t answer the e-mail.
She Googled Courtney Knoll and found several links: mostly book reviews and author interviews. Russ wasn’t mentioned in any of the articles, not until a lengthy interview with Courtney from two weeks before, which included a photo of her and Russ together. No wonder her publicist wanted to exploit them: the beautiful, promising young author and her handsome pediatrician husband—they looked so glamorous. That was one reason seeing them at the Humanities Washington dinner had blindsided her. Anna had felt like such a fool—not just because she hadn’t known he was married, but because Russ and his wife seemed so perfect together.
The Night She Disappeared Page 5
