by Tim Kizer
David glanced at the door, wondering if Carol was eavesdropping on their conversation. He would prefer she not know that he had failed the lie detector test.
“I wouldn’t have done it if I were in your shoes,” Barton said. “I would have adopted a healthy child, instead.”
David had no idea if Barton meant what he said—and he didn’t really care.
“Well, you’re free to do whatever you wish, Detective.”
“Yes, I am. And let me tell you this: choosing a healthy child doesn’t make me a terrible person. I only have one life, and I believe it’s reasonable to want to maximize happiness.”
David conspicuously looked at his watch. “Do you have any leads yet?”
He was mad at Barton for wasting time on him instead of looking for Annie.
“Right now all we have is your polygraph test. I really want to know why you failed it.”
“I was nervous.”
“Your wife passed her test. I bet she was nervous, too.”
“Can you please tell me where you’re going with this?”
“Okay. Have you ever heard of Occam’s razor?”
“Yes.”
“According to Occam’s razor, the simplest explanation is usually the correct one. In this case the simplest explanation is that you lied.”
“Do you think I killed my daughter?”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think.”
Of course, you do.
“The test results are wrong. I didn’t lie. I didn’t kill Annie, Detective. I love my daughter. Don’t waste your time investigating me, because I didn’t kill Annie.”
“I’m not saying you did.”
“Then what’s the point of this conversation?”
“Look, David. You gave a deceptive response not to one or two but to four relevant questions. That’s not insignificant. I can’t ignore that.”
It’s not his fault I failed the test, is it? The man’s just doing his job.
“Am I a suspect?”
Barton shook his head. “No. You’re a witness.”
“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”
“No.” Barton put his notebook in his jacket pocket. “Thanks for meeting me, David.”
“You’re welcome, Detective.”
2
As David watched Barton walk to his car, his mind returned to the lie detector test.
Why had he failed the goddamned test?
Because he had been nervous, that was why.
But why had Carol passed the test? Barton was right, she must have been nervous, too.
If nervousness wasn’t the reason, then what was?
He was as healthy as a horse, so it wasn’t a medical condition.
One thing was for sure: he hadn’t lied during the test.
Maybe he had been subconsciously thinking about Brian during the test? Maybe his feelings of guilt over his son’s death had caused him to have a faster heart rate, higher blood pressure, and increased perspiration—the typical indicators that a person was lying—when he answered those four questions.
Did you kill your daughter Annie?
Did you kill your son Brian?
Yes, Brian’s death was his fault. His negligence had killed his son. If he had locked the pool fence door properly or if he had kept a closer eye on the boy, Brian would not have drowned.
David felt tears prick his eyes. He blinked hard and took two deep breaths.
He missed his son. He thought about him every day, and every day he relived the terror he’d experienced when he found Brian’s small lifeless body in the water.
It had taken them eight months to conceive Brian. When they tried to have another child three years after Brian was born, Carol learned that she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant again because of premature ovarian failure. Half a year after Brian’s death David began to think of adoption. He hoped that having a new child would ease their pain. Carol had accepted the idea without hesitation, and he had been extremely grateful to her for that.
When David sat down next to her on the sofa in the great room, Carol asked what he and Barton had talked about.
“He gave me an update on the investigation,” David said.
He hated withholding information from Carol, but he believed that keeping quiet about the results of his lie detector test was a sensible thing to do.
To hell with this stupid test. He wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. Of course it would have been nice if he had passed the test, there was no denying that. However, a failed lie-detector test was not a tragedy. Because polygraph examinations were not reliable, their results were inadmissible in court. The police couldn’t arrest David or charge him with a crime based on his failed test.
He had nothing to worry about because he was innocent.
Was Barton going to tell the press that he had failed a lie detector test? If Barton didn’t do it, sooner or later someone else would. Such information always became public.
An hour after the detective departed, their housekeeper, Alicia Romero, told David that Barton had spoken to her last night. Although he was curious to know what Alicia and the detective had talked about, David didn’t ask her for details.
Had Barton interviewed Annie’s nanny yet? He probably had.
Could the housekeeper or the nanny be involved in Annie’s kidnapping? It was possible, but David didn’t think they had anything to do with this crime.
3
At nine o’clock in the evening, when David was in the great room searching the sex offender registry on the website of the Texas Department of Public Safety (he learned that there were six sex offenders living within two miles of his house and fifteen within two miles of Ardmore Park), his cellphone rang. It was Detective Barton. He said he had an idea.
“Have you ever been under hypnosis?” the detective asked.
“No.”
“Would you like to try?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“You see, David, you’re the main witness in this case. You were there when Annie was abducted. Hypnosis can help you remember everything you saw in the park that day.” Barton paused. “I believe you might have seen the people who took your daughter, or their car. So what do you say?”
Barton was right. The odds were good that he had seen the kidnapper and his vehicle. For example, assuming that the abductor had followed them from their house to Ardmore Park (and David was sure that was the case), David might have seen his car in the rearview mirror, probably several times. What the hypnotist would have to do was make him remember the license plates of the cars that had been behind him when he pulled into the parking lot of Ardmore Park. He couldn’t have gotten a good look at the plates, but that was okay: it only took a glimpse to memorize a license plate in the subconscious mind.
“It’s an interesting idea,” David said. He was glad Barton had decided to do something productive.
He figured the detective wasn’t an idiot, after all.
“Do the Tucson cops use hypnosis?”
“Yes, they do.”
“I’m sure you know it’s a very effective tool.”
David said nothing.
“Should I call the hypnotist?” Barton asked. “He could meet you tomorrow in the afternoon.”
“All right. Let’s do it.”
4
On Monday morning, while he was eating breakfast, it occurred to David that it had been almost three days since Annie’s disappearance, and he had yet to hear from her abductor (or abductors).
Did the fact that the kidnappers had been silent mean that these people weren’t after ransom? Could he completely rule out this possibility now?
If he were a ransom kidnapper, he wouldn’t wait more than two days to make his demands known. What was taking them so long?
Maybe they had planned to demand a ransom, but then something had gone wrong and they had decided not to do it.
Maybe Annie had died during transportation. The thoug
ht gave David goosebumps.
Barton picked David up at one o’clock. On the way to the hypnotist’s office, David told the detective that he might have seen the license plate of the kidnapper’s car.
“You should ask the hypnotist to help me remember it,” he said.
“That’s exactly what I’m planning to do,” Barton replied.
The hypnotist’s name was Robert Weil. He was a lean man in his fifties with salt-and-pepper hair. According to the diplomas on the wall behind his mahogany desk, he earned a medical degree at the University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine and completed a psychiatry residency at the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center. While Barton was setting up a video camera, Weil told David he was very sorry about Annie. He said he had two daughters; one was twenty-two and the other twenty-six. After Barton explained what kind of information they wanted him to extract from David’s memory, Weil instructed David to lie down on the chaise lounge. The detective said he would wait in the reception area, and stepped out of the room.
“Are you comfortable, David?” Weil asked, looking at David attentively.
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to go into a trance?”
“Yes.”
“Please take a deep breath and relax.”
Then the hypnotist asked David to close his eyes.
5
When David woke, it took him a few seconds to collect his thoughts and remember what he was doing here. He sat up and looked at Detective Barton, who was standing by the camera, watching him, and asked, “Did I tell you anything useful?”
Barton nodded. “Yes, you did.”
“What is it?”
He checked his watch. He had been under hypnosis for about fifty minutes.
“I need some time to analyze this information. Can you meet me at the station tomorrow at four?”
“Yes.”
As they made their way to Barton’s car, David wondered what useful information the hypnotist had managed to pull from his memory. Was it the license plate of the kidnappers’ car? The description of the kidnappers?
“Did I remember any license plates?” David asked after Barton started the engine.
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.”
Barton didn’t say no, which David found encouraging.
“Is this information going to help you find Annie?”
The detective said he didn’t know yet.
David was intrigued by Barton’s secretiveness, but it didn’t bother him. He didn’t mind waiting one day.
That evening, during dinner, Carol told David that the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children had received no calls about Annie so far.
“When did you talk to them?” David asked.
“This afternoon.”
David couldn’t think of anything to say, so he remained silent.
He should try to make Annie’s disappearance a national story so her picture would be shown on TV every day all over the country. He reckoned there were public relations firms that could help him with that.
There was a risk that they would be flooded with false and mistaken reports, but false and mistaken reports were better than no calls at all.
“Why aren’t the kidnappers calling?” Carol said. “It’s been over three days.”
“I don’t know.”
“Maybe she was kidnapped by a sex maniac.”
“Maybe they’re waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“For things to calm down.”
Maybe the kidnappers had left their ransom note on the porch, but the wind had blown it away? It was not inconceivable, was it?
“Let’s raise the reward to half a million,” Carol said.
“Okay.”
Carol sighed. “David, have we done everything we can to find Annie?”
“Honey, we’re doing our best.”
Carol put her fork down and blotted her lips with the napkin. “By the way, did Barton tell you the results of your lie-detector test?”
“Yes.”
“Did you pass?”
David nodded silently.
Carol looked at him for a long moment and then said, “It’s not true. You failed the test.”
David finished chewing the piece of beef he had in his mouth, and replied, “Yes, I failed the test. I was very nervous when I took it. People who tell the truth sometimes fail lie detector tests.”
He didn’t feel embarrassed or ashamed: his mind was filled with fear for Annie, which left no room for other emotions.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Because the test results were inaccurate. I know I told the truth.” David took a sip of water from his glass. “Who told you I failed the test?”
“Barton.”
Why had the detective done it? To turn Carol against him?
What an asshole!
“When did he do that?”
“Two hours ago. He called my cellphone. I passed my test, by the way.”
“That’s great.”
“Why did you fail the test?”
“I was nervous. Polygraph tests aren’t very reliable, you know. A lot of honest people fail them, and a lot of liars manage to pass.”
“I see.”
“What else did Barton tell you?”
“He asked me about Brian. He wanted to know how he died.”
“What did you say?”
“I said that Brian had drowned in our pool, that it was an accident.”
Why the hell had Barton asked Carol about Brian? Did the detective suspect he had killed his son?
Just before they left the dining room, Carol took David by the arm and said, “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Do you think you’re a suspect?”
“No.” David shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m a witness. That’s why Barton asked me to go under hypnosis.”
Because he didn’t want to be alone, he followed Carol to the great room. After about fifteen minutes Carol’s cellphone rang. She tapped the Answer button, put the phone to her ear, and said, “Hello.”
The conversation was short. Thinking the call was about Annie, David watched Carol intently as she talked. When she hung up, he asked her who had called.
“Detective Barton.” Holding her cell in her hand, Carol stood up. “He needs a sample of Annie’s DNA. He asked if I could find a strand of her hair.”
She headed for the hallway. David rose to his feet and followed her.
“Did he tell you why he needs the sample?” he asked.
“No.”
They went to Annie’s room, where Carol picked up Annie’s hairbrush from the vanity table and examined its bristles. David saw there was hair in the brush.
At the moment, he could think of only two reasons Barton would need Annie’s DNA sample: the police had found either Annie’s blood or a piece of her body. David broke into a cold sweat when it occurred to him that his daughter might have been dismembered.
Had they made this find thanks to the information he had provided while under hypnosis?
Carol called Barton and told him she had found Annie’s hair with follicles.
“What did he say?” David asked as they walked out of the room.
“He’s going to come take the hair in an hour.”
Barton arrived fifty minutes after Carol’s phone call. He pulled two strands of hair from Annie’s brush and placed them in a small paper evidence envelope. He also collected Annie’s toothbrush, which he put in a separate evidence envelope. He left without explaining why he needed Annie’s DNA sample.
David wondered if he should tell Carol it was possible that the police had discovered Annie’s body parts. He decided against it: those body parts might belong to someone else, so it was better to wait until more information was available.
6
“Do you think she’s dead?” Carol said, staring at the television, when the 10 pm newscast ended.
“No,�
�� David said. “I think she’s alive, and we’re going to find her.”
“Why do they need her DNA sample?”
“Maybe it’s a standard procedure.”
Carol turned her face to David. “If it was a standard procedure, they would have collected the sample yesterday.”
“I’ll ask the detective about it tomorrow.”
“I know why they need Annie’s DNA sample. They found her body parts.”
“Honey, stop scaring yourself.”
“Half a year ago, they found a suitcase with body parts in Florida. The police used DNA to identify the victim. Do you remember that story?”
David shook his head. He didn’t remember this story, but he knew that more than a few suitcases containing human remains were discovered every year.
He pictured Annie’s dismembered body stuffed in a suitcase, and his hands reflexively curled into fists. He would break the kidnapper’s neck when he met him.
“There’s no point in speculating,” he said. Then he told Carol that he was considering turning Annie’s disappearance into a national story. She said it was an idea worth trying.
Chapter 3
1
Unable to sleep, David stayed up all night, wandering the house, pacing the rooms, gazing blankly at the television screen. He finally dozed off on the couch in the great room soon after sunrise. He was awakened by his cellphone at 10.42 am. It was Detective Barton. He asked if David could come to the Plano Police Department at three instead of four o’clock. David said yes.
“Who was it?” Carol asked when he hung up. She looked haggard and sick; her eyes were bloodshot.
“Barton. He wants me to come at three.”
“Did he tell you what they found?”
“No.”
Annie was dead. David was all but sure of it. Barton would have canceled the meeting if the body parts didn’t belong to Annie.
Terrifying thoughts raced through his mind. Had the kidnapper raped Annie? Had he tortured her? Had she still been alive when he began to dismember her?
His head began to ache while he was waiting for Barton in the lobby of the police department.