by Jay Begler
As in the past, her view of sex was that it was so pleasurable that there was nothing wrong when she experienced with different partners or when it was self- induced. To Rebecca, the morality of her sexual desires and acts was irrelevant. Right or wrong, this is who she was. In the moments before her consciousness gave way to sleep, she recalled the last time she and Daniel made love. At that point, post Event, her sex drive had evaporated, and they went through the mechanical motions until it was over, not that it ever began for her. She thought of it as “robot fucking.” As sleep was overtaking her, she thought, “He’s a wonderful guy, not much of a lover.”
When she awoke the following morning, Rebecca first thought Morales was lying next to her, but when she looked to her left, the bed was empty. He had never been there. “Wishful thinking” she said aloud.
PART FOUR
—
The Trial
and Tribulations
of Daniel
Twenty-One
•
The Rottweiler’s Head
Terror was not something new to Daniel. In the Syrian city of Aleppo, one decimated for decades by a succession of conflicts between religious zealots, each more ruthless than their predecessors, he was on a mission to root out and kill, not capture, a terrorist known only as “Oxford,” so named because the intelligence on him revealed that he was from a wealthy British family and once attended Oxford. Weeks earlier, after midnight, Oxford and his men infiltrated the “impenetrable” US army’s barracks, planted four bombs and detonated them five minutes apart, a methodology used to ensure the maximum number of deaths. That night, 300 American soldiers died. Ironically, the White House characterized the troops as non-combatants, words used to support a pledge violated in successive administrations to never put boots on the ground again in Syria. Virtually all men in the American camp volunteered for the mission but those in command chose only twenty. Daniel was the leader of ten men, “team one.”
At three a.m. his team deployed to one house in Oxford’s compound. Team two deployed to the second house. The teams climbed over a barbed wire ladened wall and entered the grounds of the compound. Armed with automatic weapons and flash grenades used to stun and disorient adversaries, his group pressed hard against the house’s wall. No one knew what was on the other side of the door they were about to smash through. Daniel was at the head of the pack.
Later, when he spoke about that night, he described the intense heat that had not dissipated with nightfall. It was still 103 degrees. With the heavy bulletproof vest Daniel was wearing, he was sweating more profusely than he could remember. He felt heat radiating from his body. For no reason, a moment before he and his second in command, Ryan, used a battering ram, Daniel had an image of himself as a teenager swimming in an ultra- cool lake. He later captioned that thought as an “out of context moment.” His description of the incident would provoke similar tales from other combatants, where images would come to them that were totally unrelated to the moment. Daniel sometimes joked, “It was God’s way of preventing us from shitting in our pants.”
He pressed his ear to the door, heard nothing, and, with Ryan, smashed the battering ram into the door which gave way instantly. They expected heavily armed men, but found instead a pack of charging dogs. There were twelve to fifteen of them; large pit bulls and Rottweilers trained to kill, mouths open, drool spewing out of them, and eyes on fire. Daniel yelled, “Grenades” and four stun grenades went towards the pack, exploding and disorienting them. Daniel screamed, “Fire!” Through the smoke the men sprayed the room. Yelps and whimpers came from the dogs fatally wounded, followed by silence.
As he signaled for the group to proceed in single file to the second floor, he heard a growl and, through the dissipating smoke, saw the gigantic head of a Rottweiler flying towards him ready to latch onto and destroy his face. To Daniel, the dog’s head seemed to be three times its normal size. He never remembered pulling a knife from his belt, but apparently did, and as the dog came down upon him, he stabbed it in the neck. The Rottweiler fell to the ground, trying to comprehend in its own way what had happened when Ryan shot it.
His men climbed the stairs in single file, guns ready and pointing in different directions. On the second floor of the house the men, in a prearranged cluster, went from bedroom to bedroom. In the third bedroom they found a pudgy, nondescript man, with a short white beard. The man, covered by a sheet, sat up. He reminded Daniel of a professor he had in college. There was a book on the night table next to the bed; not the Koran, but, curiously, Daniel thought, an old James Patterson novel, appropriately titled 1st To Die. The man said with an upper crust British accent, “I surrender. Please don’t kill me.”
Ryan said, “Are you Oxford?”
“No. My name is Milo Keyes. I’m a British citizen.”
An intelligence officer said, “That’s Oxford.”
“I wish to remind you that your bound by the Geneva Convention.”
Ryan replied, “Fuck you” and shot the man in the head and chest.
The moment when the dog was almost upon Daniel was the most terrifying of his life, and profoundly affected his psyche. For several months afterwards, Daniel had nightmares about the incident, often waking up screaming or in a pool of sweat. A staff psychiatrist diagnosed his condition as post-traumatic stress disorder and required weekly therapy sessions. When Daniel was at his worst, he was hospitalized in a makeshift field psychiatric ward.
After two months, his superiors approved of his release, though they and the chief psychiatrist on the base believed the potential for a recurrence of psychological problems, made him unfit to serve. Daniel received an honorable discharge, and several months later, a personal handwritten letter of thanks from the Secretary of the Army. He never cared for dogs after the incident and for the rest of his life was uncomfortable with them, particularly Rottweilers. Daniel just couldn’t be near them and would occasionally cross the street if he saw one walking towards him, even if it was on a leash, even if it had a muzzle.
The terror that gripped Daniel in Aleppo differed from what he was experiencing the night of Rebecca’s abduction. Ever since the Event he continually worried that the thugs might make good on their promise of returning. If she was over ten minutes late fear would well up in him. Over time, this fear qualified a neurosis. His mindset was similar to that of a passenger who had a severe fear of flying and was on a plane when the pilot announced that one of the plane’s engines malfunctioned.
When Rebecca did not make a timely return from her night of playing bridge, he looked at his Find Friends app, one which he used to track Rebecca. Daniel used this app whenever she was late. It always comforted him to see exactly where she was, but not tonight. To his dismay, he saw that she (her cell phone) was moving further away from their house, not closer. He texted her. There was no reply. She always replied to his texts instantly, sometimes only with a thumbs up emoji to show that she received his message. Then he tried to call her. The only response was, “I can’t come to the phone right now…”
His only option was to catch up to her but each time he came within a mile of her, the signal disappeared because one of Morales’ men shut off Rebecca’s iPhone. When Daniel returned two hours later, her car was in his driveway. His temporary relief gave way to panic when he realized she was not in the house. Luring Daniel away from his house gave the Cartel’s special services team time to plant highly incriminating evidence, discovered later after police pegged him as a possible homicide suspect. After calling everyone he knew to check Rebecca’s whereabouts and thereafter making calls to hospitals, he finally had to call the police, something he dreaded because it was a tacit acknowledgement that Rebecca was truly missing.
An hour after Daniel’s frantic call, two police officers arrived at his house for some routine questions. With Daniel’s permission, one officer filmed the interview on his cell phone and later transmitted it to a specific web address in the precinct bearing Rebecca’s name and a file
number. Protocol dictated that the police wait forty-eight hours to search for a missing person unless the person in question was in danger or a child.
Thus, under ordinary circumstances, the detective assigned to the case, Adam Squire, would not have contacted Daniel immediately, but the video piqued his interest. Squire worked as a detective for thirty years and investigated fifty spousal homicides, each one beginning with a phone call by one spouse saying the other was missing. So many marital homicide investigations began this way, and so many ended with the spouse confessing or being convicted, that the pattern almost seemed to be a cliché at this point. He waived the waiting period.
Squire and Detective Maria Bowden arrived at Daniel’s house late in the afternoon for a pre-arranged meeting. He phoned Daniel, introduced himself, and asked if Rebecca turned up, learned she had not, and told Daniel he would like to drop by to discuss ways of helping him find Rebecca. When they met, Daniel gave them an envelope with various photographs of Rebecca and a list of virtually every one of their friends and business associates. Because of the transient nature of their meetings months earlier, Morales was not on his list.
Squire asked if they could record the interview; Daniel agreed. Before putting on the recorder, Squire said, “Even though we are recording you as part of our search to find your wife, I don’t think we need to be formal. I’d like to call you Daniel and you can call me Adam and please call Detective Bowden, Maria. Is that ok?” Daniel agreed without concern.
“I’ll start rather formally but then we can relax and go to first names. OK?” Daniel nodded. “Case Number-1277-Missing Person-Rebecca Levy -Interview August 1st with Daniel Levy at his residence in Sands Point, Long Island, 3:30 PM. Present are myself, Daniel Levy and detective Maria Bowden. Daniel, thank you for meeting with us. We’ve had many cases where a spouse goes missing and more often than not returns or, though alive and well, decides not to return. Nevertheless, we fully understand the sheer terror that you must be experiencing.”
In a hushed tone, Daniel replied, “Yes, terror is the right word. I’m worried sick, literally.” From the tone of his voice and his body language, Daniel seemed to be sincere, but Squire knew that some people were innately good liars. He often said “Murderers make the best liars.”
Maria asked, “Can you tell me what Rebecca was wearing when she left the house the other night?”
“Yes, she was going to play bridge with three of her friends. The women always dressed up for the occasion. It was sort of secondary competition besides the bridge itself. Two weeks ago, she purchased a pin-striped Armani suit; grey silk blouse and Armani pumps, suede with black patent leather tips. She loves Armani”
Maria said and meant it, “I’m impressed. Most men know little about their wife’s clothing.”
“I was there when she bought the outfit. She values my opinion. We often go shopping for clothing together. I value her opinion as well.”
Squire noted the use of the present tense, “we often go” as opposed to the past tense, “went” and thought that was a good sign. “I assume that you contacted a bunch of people before contacting us. Can you tell me who you contacted?”
Wringing his hands and in a state of agony, Daniel described the various steps he took: phone calls and texts to Rebecca, calls to his daughters, calls to their friends and neighbors, “then out of desperation I emailed virtually everyone on my email list.”
Squire interjected, “Would it be possible for you to provide us with a copy of that email and the addressees?
“Sure; no problem. I’ll give it to you before you leave.”
“When was the last time you saw Rebecca?”
“Last evening. She was getting dressed in the outfit I described.”
Squire asked, “How would you describe her mental state on that date?”
“Not very good. No. I think it’s fair to say, horrible.”
The candid nature of the answer surprised Squire slightly.
“How so?”
Daniel described the Event and its aftermath, and in particular the devastating psychological impact on Rebecca. Squire recalled hearing about the case. Daniel added, “To make matters worse, a few days before she disappeared, her father died. I should also mention that the company that we both built is facing bankruptcy. We are close to losing everything. We’ve been scrambling for capital, but every potential investor so far has passed. So, I suppose the word horrible is an accurate description.”
“That’s understandable. Sorry, but I’ve got to ask you this. Any talk of suicide.”
“After the Event she mentioned thoughts of suicide once or twice, but never threatened it. She’s been going to a psychiatrist since the Event and hospitalized twice, but I’m positive that at this point she is not suicidal.”
His answer was another point in the plus column for Daniel. If he raised suicide as a real possibility, it might be a ploy to steer the investigation away from him as a suspect. “Good. And what about you? How are you doing?”
“I’m a wreck.”
Squire thought, “He seems very believable, and yet I really don’t believe him.” He asked, “Forgive me for asking, but how were you and Rebecca getting along?”
“We’ve always had a strong and loving relationship. I loved her very much. Squire made a mental note of the past “loved,” but Daniel quickly corrected, “I meant to say I love her very much.”
“I assume that she and you have no enemies you are aware of?
“Of course not, except for the two thugs. Who would want to harm Rebecca?”
Squire noted the word “harm.” No one had mentioned the possibility of harm. Squire stood and said, “OK Daniel, that’s it for now. Keep your chin up. Can you get that list for us?
A few minutes later, Daniel returned and handed Squire a copy of his email and a list of employees and outside vendors, bank account information and credit card data.
Squire said, “Thank you, Daniel; this has been very helpful. Hopefully, we will find your wife quickly or she may return. But you need to be patient; these cases can take some time.”
As they drove away, Maria asked Squire. “Well, what do you think?”
Squire had earned the nickname among his fellow detectives of “50-50 Squire.” He garnered that name because every time he began an investigation his colleagues asked him the odds that the suspect was guilty or innocent, he’d hedge his bets and say ”50-50,” This time he replied “60-40 for guilt”
“That’s a pretty aggressive prediction for you at this point. Anything prompting that?”
“Just my gut. His story seems strange, but you know how these things are; the odds can change from day to day as we learn more.”
When they returned to the precinct, Squire contacted the department’s media officer and instructed him to put Rebecca’s story out to the press and local media. That tactic had two goals, the first to help find Rebecca, and the second, to unearth potential witnesses who might suspect that there was foul play. The extent to which people would come forward and project scenarios regarding a missing person’s fate always surprised him, though he had a theory on its root cause. Two of the most enduring and popular shows on television were 48 Hour Mystery and DateLine NBC, both involving actual homicide cases. The shows often involved a husband or a wife being murdered, but first reported by the spouse as missing. More often than not, the documentary ended with the spouse being convicted. There were just too the many crime shows, which he and his fellow detectives had rated as “the good, the bad and the ugly.”
The collective impact of these shows was undeniable, however. A large segment of the public fancied themselves as knowledgeable about crime. This phenomenon irked Squire. People would watch medically or legally oriented shows and not think of themselves as experts in the fields of medicine or law. Those who watched crime shows, however, were quick to offer tips, which were often not true tips, but suggestions on how to solve a particular crime. Virtually all of these theorists’ tips would b
e a waste of time. Squire knew that after the arrest of a suspect, real and reliable witnesses would surface.
Ten minutes after his call, the media officer called back. “Pull up, www.Pix11.com. A missing person’s story about Rebecca is already out and on every local news channel.”
Daniel, not constrained by the precinct’s 48-hour rule, called every channel he could, both local and national. Emails which supplemented his calls contained an awkward and shaky selfie video of himself pleading with the public for information about Rebecca. The wobbly and unkempt nature of the video made it more compelling, and it went viral, but only for a day. In the days to come, Daniel spared no effort or expense to find Rebecca. He even hired a company that specialized in getting the message out to find a missing person. On a crash basis, the company put up a website, www.findrebeccalevy.com. Apparently, there were so many “finds” followed by a person’s name that Daniel had to include “Levy” to differentiate from the other sites.
A banner bearing many photos of Rebecca ran across the top of the webpage, followed by:
“MISSING: REBECCA LEVY. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS WOMAN?”
Below the headline there were many more photographs of Rebecca and the notation, “$100,000 reward for information that leads to her safe return. No questions asked.” The $100,000 would exhaust most of their remaining savings but Daniel didn’t care. The completion of the website and its launch gave Daniel a false glimmer of hope, which faded day by day when no realistic leads surfaced. Virtually all the responses were from scammers or people best characterized as “crazy.”