The Night She Disappeared

by Kevin O'Brien

  Anna listlessly watched the bridge go back down. She waited for the gate to go up and then restarted her car. The light turned green, and she drove on.

  It was dark by the time she pulled into the shadowy carport. But somehow, she wasn’t scared. You have to care what happens to you to be scared, she thought, getting out of the car and locking it.

  As she started toward her dock, she dreaded having to deal with the reporters waiting for her there. She could see the news vans in the distance. Just walk fast, she told herself, reaching into her purse for her keys. She noticed the cluster of reporters and onlookers stirring. She’d been spotted.

  “Anna!” one of them called out. He waved to her.

  Looking down at the pavement, Anna kept walking toward her dock.

  “Anna, do you have any comment on tonight’s Sally Justice Show?” another reporter yelled.

  “Do you think Dr. Knoll is really dead? Did he fake his death?”

  Eyes downcast, Anna threaded through the group. She tried to ignore the cameras and mics pushed in her path. They were all talking at her at once, a few louder than the others.

  “Anna, what are your plans now?”

  “What are the police telling you about Dr. Knoll?”

  She made it to the gate. With a slightly shaky hand, she unlocked it. “Sorry, guys, no comment.”

  “Anna, is the TV station going to give you your job back?”

  “Anna Banana?”

  She stopped abruptly and anxiously searched the faces of the reporters, cameramen, and onlookers. And then, past the first row of them, she saw Stu, looking dissipated. His smile was tentative and hopeful. He broke through the ranks and approached her.

  Astonished, Anna stared at him. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Anna Banana, I’m so sorry,” he said. He started to cry, too.

  Anna couldn’t talk. She threw herself into his arms.

  He hugged her. Anna felt the stubble of his unshaven chin against her face. He didn’t smell so great, but she didn’t care. She kept holding on to him. He patted her back.

  She was barely aware of the buzz among the reporters surrounding them. Then they started to shout questions at her.

  “Who is this, Anna?”

  “Do you have a new boyfriend already?” one tactlessly asked, talking over the rest.

  Stu gently pulled away, but kept his arm around her. “Hey, I’m her brother, Stuart Malone,” he announced, wiping a tear from his eye. He squinted and then scratched his head. “And I haven’t seen Anna in sixteen years. So—I’m sorry if we’re kind of emotional here.”

  Several photo flashes blinded them. Anna brushed away her tears as well. She tried to lead her brother away—toward the houseboat.

  But Stu held his ground. He cleared his throat. “As long as I have you members of the press here, I want to say something for the record. I was on The Sally Justice Show the other night. I really needed money, and they paid me to trash-talk my sister, Anna, here. So I told a bunch of lies on the show. I said what they told me to say. It was all on cue cards. I’m really sorry I did it.” He nodded toward Anna. “See how sweet and forgiving my little sister is?”

  She pulled him past the gate and then shut it. The photo flashes were still going off as she pulled Stu toward the end of the dock.

  “I know what you’re probably thinking,” he whispered. “You saw the show. You heard I’ve had problems. But I want you to know, Anna Banana, I’m not doing any drugs. I’ve been clean for two days—two whole days.”

  Nodding, Anna unlocked the door and opened it for him. She patted Stu’s shoulder as he stepped inside.

  She wanted to believe him. She really wanted to believe him.

  Anna walked in behind her brother and then double-locked the door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Monday, July 20—11:02 P.M.

  “Oh my God, I’m having flashbacks to Crestview Road, Bainbridge Island,” Stu said, leaning back in the breakfast booth. “I haven’t tasted this in sixteen years. It’s the same old recipe, too. I forgot how fucking great your homemade pizza is.”

  On the table in front of him, Anna had set four slices of reheated pizza on a plate along with a can of Coke.

  “Well, if it ain’t broke, don’t change the recipe,” Anna said. She sat on the other side of the little table with her glass of wine.

  She hadn’t wasted much time getting her brother to agree that he’d stay for a few days. He’d left some of his things in a locker at the Greyhound terminal. Anna and he would pick them up in the morning. Anna had also tactfully informed him that he smelled pretty ripe. She’d decided not to say anything about his awful neck tattoo or that he needed a haircut. It was too late to criticize the tattoo and too early to advocate a haircut.

  She had some of Russ’s clothes in her closet and figured Stu could wear them until his clothes were washed and dried. While Stu had showered, Anna had looked up online how to help someone withdrawing from crystal meth. The sites she visited suggested the patient get sleep, a lot of healthy food, a lot of liquids, sympathy, and professional rehab counseling.

  She’d changed the sheets on the daybed in the little study and decided to wait until tomorrow before she’d start talking about rehab places. She didn’t want to scare Stu away on his first night. His coming here was a godsend, a dream come true after sixteen years. And his timing was perfect. She needed the company. Plus she needed to get out of this self-pitying funk and focus on someone else.

  Sitting across from Stu now, a flood of memories—bits and pieces of their life in the Bainbridge Island house—washed over Anna: their brother-sister lip-synching routine to “Bohemian Rhapsody”; the planks of wood across the branches of the backyard maple tree that had been Stu’s tree house; all the solemn funerals they’d held for her various goldfish; the games of H-O-R-S-E using the basketball net above their garage door, which he’d always let her win. And when she was eleven, it was Stu who had managed to console her on 9/11. He alone had understood her panic and sorrow. He’d been the one to come to her rescue.

  Now they were rescuing each other.

  On his second slice of pizza, Stu looked like he was starting to choke. Tears came to his eyes, and he put down the pizza slice.

  “Are you okay?” Anna asked, alarmed.

  He wiped his eyes. “I’m just so fucked up,” he sobbed. “I can’t believe I went on that stupid show and told all those lies about you. It was such a betrayal. You didn’t deserve it, Anna. It was just that I was so desperate. I owed these guys money. And somebody from The Sally Justice Show tracked me down and offered me thirty-five hundred bucks to come on TV and talk about you.”

  Anna took hold of his hand. “Hey, c’mon, let’s forget about it. And not all of it was a lie. You were right. I got away with murder with Dad. And I forgot about all those dinners when I hid his drink.”

  He chuckled and then wiped his eyes again—using the sleeve of Russ’s UW sweatshirt.

  “Besides, you made it all right again and set the record straight when you gave your statement to the press,” Anna went on. “You were very eloquent, by the way. Plus I think you may have given them just what they wanted. Maybe now they’ll leave me alone. Earlier, when I was in Mom’s room making the daybed for you, I looked out the window and noticed that most of them have left.”

  “I wouldn’t have had the nerve to show up here tonight, only this guy I know, Tony, he said he talked online to some deaf girl who’s a friend of yours. He said you wanted to see me and you weren’t pissed off or anything.” He picked up another slice of pizza and glanced around. “I can’t believe you and Mom used to live here together and didn’t drive each other crazy.”

  “Four whole years,” Anna said, sipping her wine. “And believe me, we got on each other’s nerves often enough.”

  “I remember the few times we spent the night here as a family, I thought the four of us would end up killing each other. I was so bored.”

  Anna remembered it
differently. She recalled the family dinners on the deck and playing board games at this same kitchen table. Those nights for her had been fun family mini-vacations. But then, Stu had always been popular, and she’d been kind of a nerdy homebody. So he’d probably been focused on all the partying and carousing he’d been missing. She wondered if he’d already started messing around with drugs back then.

  She wanted to ask, but didn’t.

  He grinned at her. “You don’t know how many times I almost dropped in on you and Mom here.” Then his smile faded. “But I was worried I might be an unwelcome surprise.”

  “You knew we were living here? You knew about Dad?”

  He nodded. “I was in Alaska when that happened, and didn’t hear about the old man until I got in touch with Jim Munchel about a year after the fact. You remember Jim from Bainbridge Island?”

  Anna shook her head.

  “Well, anyway, he told me about the old man getting thrown in the clink and offing himself. He said he’d heard that you and Mom had moved here. So whenever my travels took me back to Seattle, I’d swing by and check on you from one of the neighboring docks. I actually saw you guys a few times—coming and going, and once I saw you and Mom on the back deck. I came so close to rushing over here and banging on the door.”

  “Oh, Stu,” Anna whispered. “Why didn’t you? Mom would have given anything for that.”

  He shrugged. “I was afraid you guys would tell me to go to hell.”

  She shook her head. “No. You should have come by. I would have given anything for that, too.”

  He squinted down at the tabletop and scratched his head. “It wouldn’t have worked out. I’d already started in on the meth. I’d turned a corner. I knew you and Mom would be disappointed in me.”

  “How are you feeling now, by the way?” she asked.

  Stu took another bite of pizza and nodded. “I’m doing okay.”

  “I read up a little about what you’re supposed to be experiencing as you go off crystal meth—headaches, paranoia, body aches, anxiety . . .”

  “The first day was the worst. Today, mostly, I’m just tired. Don’t be surprised if I sleep through the whole day tomorrow.” He smiled, and his dimples emerged. “Thanks, by the way—for not lecturing me about the drugs.”

  She let out a tiny laugh. “Well, thanks for not lecturing me about my relationship with a married man. Mom and Dad raised a fine pair of kids, didn’t they?”

  “Y’know, I saw you guys together once—a few months back.”

  Anna sat up a little. “You saw us?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t stop watching you after Mom died. I checked up on you in Spokane a few times—when you were in college, and then later, when you lived in that duplex. I saw you on TV, and Googled you. Then when you moved back here, I peeked in on you a few times. One of those times, he was here and you guys were sitting out on the back deck, talking and watching the sunset. I was pretty far away, but still, it seemed to me like the two of you were good together.”

  Anna felt a little tightness in her throat, and her eyes teared up. But she managed to smile. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath to compose herself. “I have to admit, knowing you’ve been watching me this long. I—I have mixed feelings about it. I’m not sure if I’ve had a guardian angel all this time or a stalker.”

  “Funny you should say that. A couple of times I’ve watched you come and go in the past year, I thought somebody else might be doing the exact same thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, once I was on the dock over there.” He pointed out the kitchen window by the booth. “And while I was looking at you, I noticed this woman—at least, I think it was a woman—and she was on a boat, looking toward your place through a pair of binoculars. I remember thinking, Well, that’s some strange shit. But then I figured, you’re on TV a lot, and you probably have fans or weirdos following you around.”

  “When was this?” Anna asked.

  Stu shrugged. “God, I don’t remember exactly, last fall sometime.”

  “Last October?”

  He nodded. “That sounds about right—”

  “Did you get a good look at her?” Anna pressed. “You’ve seen Courtney Knoll’s photo, haven’t you? Do you think it’s possible this woman on the boat could have been Courtney?”

  “I was so far away. I could barely tell that it was a woman. It could have been anybody. Plus she had the binoculars in front of her face most of the time. But I’ll tell you, it happened again a couple of months ago. I recognized the boat. I could see someone on deck, but it was night. Whoever it was, this person had on a dark windbreaker with a hood. I couldn’t tell if they had binoculars or a phone or what. But they seemed to be watching you. And I’m like positive it was the same boat, a sports cruiser, about forty feet. I’d recognize it again in a second. It’s just like Terry Adalist’s boat. We took that baby out on the water practically every day my last summer on Bainbridge.”

  Anna glanced out the window—at the dark water and the city lights in the distance. She could almost hear that raspy voice on the phone: “I saw you fucking kill her. I saw it.”

  Stu chuckled. “Hey, I’m sorry, did I freak you out?” He took hold of her hand. “Don’t worry, Anna Banana. I’m here to protect you.”

  Anna worked up a smile and nodded.

  But she was still afraid.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Tuesday, July 21—9:17 A.M.

  The phone’s chiming woke her up. Someone was sending her a text.

  Anna didn’t usually sleep in this late. But she and Stu had stayed up until two in the morning, talking and looking at old family albums. He’d said he would probably sleep all day, so she’d decided not to set her alarm. Picking up his stuff at the bus depot was the only thing they needed to do today.

  Sitting up in bed, Anna grabbed the phone off her nightstand and squinted at the screen. The text was from Taylor:

  Dr. Tolman is on vacation and having her office redecorated. But for me, she says she’ll make an exception. She charges $230 per session, and sometimes it takes a few sessions to start getting results. Believe me, she’s worth it. She says she has time this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon. I can set it up for you. Just let me know.

  Two hundred and thirty bucks a session wasn’t cheap—especially for someone who wasn’t currently employed. Anna also wondered how much it would cost to get Stuart into a decent rehabilitation center. But she figured the sessions with Tolman would be worthwhile if she could remember more about the night Courtney had disappeared.

  Rubbing her eyes, Anna sat up straighter in bed and started working her thumbs over the phone screen’s keyboard:

  First off, thank you so much for bringing my brother back to me. He showed up at my place last night. Thanks to you, I feel like I’m part of a family again. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for your kindness, Taylor. We’re both so grateful.

  Thanks also for volunteering to arrange things with Dr. Tolman. I’m free this afternoon and tomorrow afternoon. You said it will take multiple sessions. Maybe we should schedule both today and tomorrow? One glitch. My brother is staying with me, and it’s close quarters, not much privacy. If Dr. Tolman’s office isn’t available, maybe I can meet her at her house. Could you give me her contact info? Then I can work it out with her. You’ve already done so much. Thanks again!

  Anna pressed send.

  She lingered in bed for a few minutes. When she got up, she staggered over to the window. The blinds were lowered, and she peeked between the slats. She didn’t see any news vans or people near the dock gate—at least not from here. Was it possible they were all gone?

  Anna put on her robe and made her bed. She was about to head down the narrow stairs to the bathroom when the phone chimed again. She snatched it off the nightstand. It was another text from Taylor:

  Dr. Tolman can see you today and tomorrow at 3. Does that work for you? She’ll meet you at my place. I’ll step out and giv
e you all the privacy you want. Not that I can overhear anything! I’m at 186 43rd East in Madison Park, Apartment 301. Does that work for you?

  It struck Anna as a little strange that she would have her hypnotherapy sessions at Sally Justice’s daughter’s apartment. Taylor was just trying to be helpful and accommodating. But this seemed like too much. Then again, Anna couldn’t have the sessions here, not with Stu in the next room, and Taylor had made it clear up front that Tolman’s office wasn’t available.

  With a sigh, Anna texted back:

  That’s great. But I hate to be an imposition on you. You’ve done so much already.

  She sent it, and a text came back a minute later.

  The least I can do to make up for the fact that my mother has made your life hell. I’ll step out while you have your session. See you here around 2:55!

  Anna texted back: Thanks! See you!

  But the moment she sent it, she had this strange feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. She kept thinking that perhaps, deep down, she didn’t want to remember what had happened that night. Maybe she didn’t want to face some terrible truth about something she or Russ had done.

  Anna quietly crept down the stairs to the main level. She was about to duck into the bathroom when she noticed the door to the study was open. She didn’t want to wake Stu while she washed up. She tiptoed over to the study door to close it, but hesitated and peeked inside.

  The daybed was rumpled—like he’d napped on top of it without getting under the sheets. Anna glanced over toward her desk. A couple of drawers were half-open. On the built-in bookcase above the desk, a few of her journalism awards—the expensive-looking ones—were missing.