The Night She Disappeared

by Kevin O'Brien

  “Mother, I’m sorry, but I don’t feel right going on TV, pretending that Courtney and I were good friends. I’m sure the only reason she paid any attention to me at those parties was because I’m your daughter.”

  “Nonsense!” Sally said. Then she quickly glanced over her shoulder at the TV.

  Courtney’s photo was in a box above the handsome anchorman’s shoulder.

  “Mother, please—”

  “Hush up, I need to see this!” Sally said, putting a hand up to silence her daughter. She swiveled toward the TV, swiped the remote from the makeup table, and turned the volume back up. She turned on the closed-captioning for Taylor, though her daughter was quite proficient at reading lips.

  “. . . reported missing since early Friday morning,” the anchorman was saying—over a shot of Courtney’s floating home, cordoned off with yellow tape. The dock was buzzing with police activity. “Police still have no leads, but they have confirmed that traces of blood have been discovered—Courtney’s blood type—in her living room. KIXI-TV reporter Anna Malone reported on Courtney Knoll’s disappearance for Sunday’s KIXI-TV News at Five.”

  The image on the screen switched back to the news desk with Anna Malone seated beside the anchorman. She was wearing a virginal white blouse—and Sally made a mental note to comment about it in a snarky way on tonight’s show.

  “Anna also spent three days last week with Courtney for a profile we ran on Friday’s news. Anna . . .”

  “Thank you, David,” she said with a nod and a joyless smile. “Along with her husband, Dr. Russell Knoll, I was one of the last people to see Courtney Knoll before her disappearance sometime in the predawn hours early Friday morning. I’ve tried to be helpful to the police. And I tried to be as accurate as possible reporting about Courtney’s disappearance here for KIXI News. I’d come to know and respect Courtney Knoll when we worked together on her profile piece that ran on Friday’s news show. But originally, I didn’t want the story assignment—for personal reasons. And for the same reasons, I didn’t want to report on Courtney’s disappearance. Today, I’m compelled to make those personal reasons public. I spoke to the Seattle Police this morning to clarify my role in the events that led up to Courtney’s disappearance early Friday morning. My story hasn’t changed much from what I’d already told the police and what I’ve reported to you. But I omitted one detail—which is that I’ve been in a relationship with Courtney’s husband, Dr. Russell Knoll, for eighteen months.”

  Anna paused and took a deep breath. “I never would have pegged myself as the type of woman who would get involved with a married man. But at the time, I believed—we both believed—that Dr. Knoll and his wife would soon be separating. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to get hurt. Courtney’s disappearance has completely devastated her husband—and it’s also put an end to our relationship.”

  Her voice quavered ever so slightly, and Sally couldn’t help wondering if it was an act. “So, now you understand that I wasn’t completely forthcoming in yesterday’s report on Courtney’s disappearance,” Anna went on. “I feel I’ve compromised my integrity as a journalist and my duty to our news team here at KIXI-TV. Most of all, I’ve failed you, our viewers. And because of this, I’ve asked for—and been granted—an indefinite leave of absence from KIXI-TV News. I plan to continue helping the authorities as much as I can in the search for Courtney Knoll. And I’m hoping for her safe return. Anyone with information that might be helpful in locating Courtney is urged to call 1-800-647-7464, that’s 1-800-MISSING. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Anna,” the anchorman said solemnly. “We’re all going to miss you here.”

  She merely nodded at him and gave a wistful smile—the kind of smile that said she was aching inside.

  A new image appeared in the box over the anchor’s shoulder as the camera closed in on him. It was a shot of a storefront with a broken window. “Seattle Police are investigating what’s being described as a hate crime in the International District . . .”

  “Goddamn it!” Sally bellowed, switching off the TV with the remote. “That bitch! She just ruined my show for tonight! I was going to expose her and her slimy doctor boyfriend. I was going to drop a bombshell, and now what do I have?”

  “Well, people on the East Coast won’t know,” Taylor argued, signing to her mother. “It’s just your Seattle audience who might have heard—”

  “This show was mostly for my Seattle audience!” Sally shot back. “Don’t you understand? People on the East Coast, in the Midwest, and anyone south of Portland aren’t going to know who the hell Anna Malone is! I wanted to stick it to her here in Seattle—on our turf.”

  Wide-eyed, Taylor shook her head. She didn’t speak, but she signed: “That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? You don’t really care about Courtney.” Then she spoke out loud: “You just want to stick it to Anna Malone because she made you look bad three years ago after that man in Spokane killed himself!”

  “That wasn’t my fault!” Sally argued. “I’m doing this story because it’s important. It’s news. And it’s a travesty! I think Courtney’s husband and Anna Malone killed her. I’ll bet you anything they planned it together. They had the motive and the opportunity. I can’t believe the police haven’t charged either one of them with anything yet. You just heard her admit on TV that she’s a liar.” Sally began to sign as she spoke. “I’m also doing this story for you, sweetie. Courtney was a—a beautiful, accomplished author—and a prominent member of the deaf community in Seattle—”

  Taylor frowned. “Oh, Mother, save it for the TV audience.”

  “Okay, I’d like to destroy that bitch Anna Malone—if I can. But that’s because I think she’s guilty.” Sally braced herself in the makeup chair and took a deep breath. “Now, go pick out a blouse for the show, nothing blue—I’m wearing blue. And nothing beige. You look washed out in beige. Start writing something about how close you were to Courtney and how much you miss your friend. I’ll need to see it before the show. Meanwhile, send Arthur, Crystal, and Lauren in here. We have less than an hour to do some rewrites for the show tonight. And get Chad Two in here so he can finish me and then start in on you.”

  “Anything else?” Taylor asked, and then she folded her arms.

  “You’ve read Courtney’s books, haven’t you?”

  Her brow furrowed, Taylor nodded.

  “Good. I’m going to have you on every night this week, talking about how talented Courtney is, how much of a difference she’s made for the deaf community.”

  Taylor didn’t respond. She just sighed and quietly slipped out the door.

  Sally turned toward the mirror. “This is ratings gold—good for at least a week,” she murmured to her reflection. “You just better hope what’s-her-name doesn’t show up alive anytime soon and ruin this.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Monday, July 13—6:03 P.M.

  One voice shouted out louder than the others: “Anna, do you think your boyfriend murdered his wife?”

  About a dozen reporters, videographers, and photographers had been waiting for her at the station’s side door to the parking lot. They’d instantly swarmed around Anna, thrusting mics in front of her face. Holding a boxful of junk from her work desk, she headed toward her car.

  She’d known they were out there waiting. The receptionist, Rosie, had warned her. They weren’t just local news reporters. There were people from CNN, Fox, and 24/7 News, too.

  So Anna had decided not to change her clothes or wash off her HDTV makeup. Besides, she was in a hurry to get home.

  “No, I don’t think Dr. Knoll murdered his wife,” she answered, not breaking stride as she walked across the lot. “If you check with the police, it was Dr. Knoll who first alerted them to the fact that Mrs. Knoll was missing and that there were inconsistencies in the way certain items had been packed and certain items had been left behind—”

  “How long have you been seeing Courtney’s husband?” someone else yelled—practically cutt
ing her off.

  “As I said in my statement on the news earlier, we’d been involved for about eighteen months,” Anna replied, staring straight ahead.

  “Did the station want to fire you?”

  “No, I offered to take a leave of absence without pay, and they accepted.” She had her key fob in her fist—under the box of junk from her desk. She clicked it to pop open the trunk of her car. She’d already taken another boxload of personal items from her desk down to the car before her spot on tonight’s news. This was the rest of her stuff: a fortune-telling 8-Ball, a stapler that looked like an alligator, a dictionary, a thesaurus, a scarf, and a Seattle Mariners coffee mug—among other things.

  A few coworkers in the newsroom had asked if she’d like to go out for drinks at China Harbor with them, sort of an impromptu farewell party, but Anna had begged off.

  “Anna, are you and Russ glad that Courtney’s no longer in the picture?” the reporter from Fox News asked.

  She frowned at him and shut the trunk of her car. “That’s a terrible thing to say. How can I be glad? How could Dr. Knoll be glad? Our private relationship is now being held under public scrutiny—and it’s finished. Dr. Knoll’s career has been compromised. I just cleaned out my desk and am leaving a job I loved.” Her voice cracked a tiny bit. “And not least of all, someone I never wanted to hurt is missing and may be dead.” She opened the door on the driver’s side. “So, in answer to your insensitive question, no, no one is glad about this.”

  She ducked into the car and closed the door, blocking out all other questions. A couple of the reporters knocked on her window, but Anna ignored them. She started up the car and pulled out of the lot.

  As she merged into traffic on Westlake, she thanked God that she rarely had to do any of that kind of predatory scoop journalism, ambushing whoever was in the news, assaulting them with tactless questions. She realized, after this, she’d be lucky to get any kind of job in TV news. She hoped Russ was right. Maybe the station would hire her back after this blew over—if it ever blew over. Meanwhile, she figured she had enough to live comfortably for the next six to eight months. Certainly she could find a decent job before then—maybe not on TV or in journalism, but at least something to support herself.

  Right now, all she wanted to do was go home, wash off her makeup, change her clothes, put her feet up, and call Russ.

  But that wasn’t going to happen.

  The Sally Justice Show was on in a half hour. Obviously, Sally was out for blood tonight. Anna hoped her statement on the news just an hour ago might take some of the sting out of Sally’s attacks. She couldn’t hope to breathe easy until she’d watched the awful show, and Sally did her usual sign-off: “You get all the true talk on The Sally Justice Show!”

  From the promotional ads for tonight’s telecast, it appeared as if Sally planned to skewer Russ, too.

  This afternoon, Anna had e-mailed Russ her statement for tonight’s news broadcast. She’d wanted to make sure she wouldn’t say anything he might find inappropriate, embarrassing, or incriminating.

  He’d e-mailed back:

  This is fine, Anna.

  I’ve been racking my brain for a way to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am. But you already know that.

  Stay strong.

  Love, R

  Anna tried not to overanalyze the note. One thing was clear: he wasn’t looking for a response. They’d both agreed last night that, unless it was an emergency, they were better off giving each other some space. Basically, it was over.

  She’d texted George this morning, telling him that she was sorry and hoped things would work out with Beebe. And I also hope you won’t stay mad at me forever, she’d added. Not seeing George would be the toughest part about leaving her job.

  She still hadn’t gotten a reply. Anna figured she’d better not hold her breath waiting for one.

  This morning, she’d also talked to Detective Baumann, who had already gotten a “revised” statement from Russ last night. Apparently, Baumann had interviewed him at the precinct station for two hours. Russ’s lawyer had been present.

  Anna had waived her right to an attorney and spent only an hour correcting the omissions from her earlier testimony. As she’d pointed out on KIXI-TV News at Five, the fact that she and Russ were involved didn’t really alter much of what she’d already told the police.

  “I wanted you to hear it from us and not Sally Justice,” Anna had told the detective in her tiny office, which had smelled like stale coffee. “You weren’t the least bit surprised by this news, were you?”

  “No, not really,” Baumann had replied. “In fact, I was hoping you two would fess up about it soon, because I really want to believe your accounts about what happened Thursday night and Friday morning.”

  Anna had told her that, at no time, did she ever pressure Russ to divorce his wife. She’d never issued him any ultimatums. “I want you to know that—in case you think Russ might have gotten rid of Courtney so that we could be together. And you should know this, too: he rarely bad-mouthed Courtney. I don’t think I would have liked it if he had. Then again, I wasn’t very adept in this role as the other woman. I never wanted to be a homewrecker.”

  She’d wondered about Russ’s alibi. She’d asked if there were any police reports about fireworks in the Magnolia neighborhood park around one or two in the morning on Friday as Russ had described.

  “Yes, but it doesn’t necessarily prove that Dr. Knoll was there at the time,” Baumann had explained, leaning back in her desk chair. “He could have easily gotten the information off a police scanner or after the fact. Plus, for a week after July Fourth, there’s always somebody setting off fireworks somewhere in the wee hours of the morning. He could have just thrown in that detail for a bit of authenticity.”

  “Well, if you think Dr. Knoll had anything to do with his wife’s disappearance, just consider this,” Anna had said. “You found all that blood in their living room and bathroom, and on the deck, right? If Russ knew about that, he’d have had two whole days to clean it up before he phoned you and reported Courtney missing. And he’s a doctor. Cleanliness is a big part of his profession. I’m not saying you wouldn’t have found any traces of blood at all, but from what I hear, your guys found a lot. And a doctor, if he was responsible for spilling that blood, he wouldn’t have left so much evidence behind.”

  “Point taken,” Baumann had replied. She’d cracked a tiny smile. “Y’know, any minute now, I expect you to break into a rendition of Tammy Wynette’s ‘Stand by Your Man.’ Actually it’s very sweet. And FYI, for now, you can relax. No one has charged Dr. Knoll with anything yet.”

  Anna had considered telling the detective about the harassing phone calls. But she’d decided to keep it to herself. No doubt, like Russ, she was a suspect—at the very least, a person of interest—in Courtney’s disappearance. Why belabor the point by telling the detective about some anonymous caller who claimed to have seen her murder Courtney? Why even introduce that?

  But Anna thought about it now, as she turned onto Eastlake and headed home. She heard some of the junk from her desk at work rattling in the car trunk.

  Anna still couldn’t remember anything from late Thursday night. Had her anonymous caller actually seen something? How could she be 100 percent sure she hadn’t killed Courtney? She tried to imagine herself bashing Courtney over the head with that heavy glass award. She had no memory of ever picking it up. How did she even know it was heavy? She pictured Courtney’s blood splattering on her jeans and her canvas sneakers. Or had that happened when she’d dragged Courtney’s body out to the back deck and dumped it in the lake? The police still hadn’t found a corpse in the water or amid the pilings by the house. Anna remembered how her skiff hadn’t been properly tied to her deck on Friday afternoon. Was that because she’d taken the boat to Russ and Courtney’s sometime after midnight—so none of the neighbors would see her on the dock? Had she placed Courtney’s body in the skiff and then dumped her weighted corpse
in the lake somewhere farther away? Maybe she’d bundled up her own bloodstained clothes and thrown them in the water as well.

  The whole notion was completely ridiculous. She’d been so drunk on Thursday night she could barely stand up. Hell, she’d even puked. Russ had said that, when he’d left her, she’d been down for the count. She’d been in no condition to carry out a murder and cover it up. She hadn’t even been able to climb the stairs up to her own bedroom that night.

  Cruising down the narrow road that ran along Lake Union, Anna passed by her dock and noticed a news truck parked there. “Oh swell,” she muttered.

  She continued down for another block and a half to the carport. After pulling into her spot, Anna checked her watch. She had about ten minutes to get home, switch on the TV, and endure whatever Sally Justice dished out on tonight’s show.

  It was still light out, but under the moss-covered roof, the old carport was dark and shadowy. For a moment, Anna just sat in the car and watched the dashboard lights fade. She was in no hurry to watch herself get torn to pieces by Sally Justice.

  With a sigh, she finally popped the trunk and stepped out of the car.

  “Anna Malone?” The raspy whisper seemed to come from the darkest corner of the parking shed.

  Gasping, Anna froze. For a moment, the voice sounded like the creep who had been making those menacing calls.

  “Anna?”

  She swiveled around and saw someone emerge from the shadows near the edge of the carport. Anna’s hand went to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  The woman’s face was still swallowed up in the shadows. But Anna saw her signing as she spoke. For a crazy second, she thought the woman was Courtney. “Who’s there? Who are you?” she asked, backing toward her car.

  “I’m Taylor Hofstad,” the woman said, spelling with her fingers. It was slightly difficult to understand her. Her speech was labored, similar to that of someone recovering from a stroke. “You don’t know me. I’m Sally Justice’s daughter.”