Missing Daughter

by Rick Mofina

  55

  Maddie’s heart was pounding a little faster now, sitting in the chair of the interview room at Syracuse police headquarters.

  The detectives, Zubik and Asher, sat across from her, as they had done four years ago with the suspect, Kalmen T. Gatt, her family, her friends, with every person who might have known what had happened the night she’d vanished.

  It had been several days since her return.

  During that time, her family had been inundated with requests to interview her by media from across the country and around the world. Being protective, they’d declined each one, telling journalists, “We need some time to absorb it all.” But when her parents agreed to bring her downtown to talk to Asher and Zubik about her disappearance, they’d insisted on being at her side.

  “We understand your concerns,” Asher had told Karen and Ryan, “but our procedure is to interview her alone. You’re welcome to wait in the unit reception area.”

  Now, after Asher and Zubik explained to Maddie about the camera and ensured she was comfortable, they began.

  “Maddie, it’s important for us to know what happened to you and who was involved,” Zubik said. “You understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “We know,” Zubik continued, “that you’ve been seeing a doctor and a psychiatrist and that you’re starting to remember a little.”

  “Only in teeny bits, I guess.”

  “What do you recall about that night?”

  “I remember eating pizza and I remember going to bed.”

  “Anything else? Anything at all?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  “How did you get to Florida?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is there anything over the last four years that stands out in your mind, any names, faces, locations, landmarks?”

  Maddie thought hard, licked her lips, coughed.

  “No, nothing really.” She coughed again.

  “Are you thirsty?” Asher asked. “Would you like a soda or something?”

  “I like cola.”

  Asher left and returned with a can of cola and opened it for her. She and Zubik watched as Maddie pulled down the sleeves of her hoodie, covering her hands before she cupped the can with them and sipped.

  She smiled. “I’m a little cold.”

  “Maddie,” Zubik said, “do you think it’s possible you ran away?”

  “No, I don’t know. Why would I do that?”

  “Do you remember problems at home?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

  “What has your family told you since your return?”

  “That they love me, and they’re sorry if they made me feel bad before.”

  Asher shot a quick glance to Zubik.

  “Did they say specifically what they did to make you feel bad?”

  “No, not really. I think they’re just happy I’m back.”

  Zubik and Asher let a moment pass before Asher turned her laptop to Maddie. On the screen were photos of Kalmen T. Gatt.

  “Do you know who this is? Have you ever had contact with him?”

  As she looked at it they studied her reaction.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  Next they showed her pictures of Zachary Keppler, then pictures of boys from school Maddie had liked, or who liked her—Caleb Langford, Logan Bostick and Noah Trell. All were pictures from the time she went missing ranging to more recent ones.

  “Do you recognize any of these people?”

  “No, I’m sorry.”

  The interview continued for nearly an hour but yielded little, and Zubik closed his notebook.

  “Thank you, Maddie,” he said. “We’d like to keep trying. Call us anytime day or night if you remember anything, please?”

  “Okay.”

  “Before you leave, we’ll take you down to our ident people so we can get your prints and a cheek swab for DNA, for the case. There was a glitch in Florida. They didn’t save or send us your prints for ID, so it’s just a routine thing.”

  “Okay.”

  In the hall they met Karen, Ryan and Cole, who’d joined them.

  “How did it go?” Karen asked.

  “Fine,” Asher said. “She doesn’t remember much, but it’s a start. We’re just taking her downstairs for fingerprints and a DNA swab for the file.”

  Karen, Cole and Ryan exchanged glances. Karen put her arm around Maddie, pulling her close as if shielding her from a threat.

  “No,” Karen said. “We don’t want that. She was already fingerprinted in Florida, confirming her identification. We confirmed it and signed.”

  Zubik and Asher looked puzzled.

  “But her Florida prints have gone astray. It’s a formality,” Asher said.

  “No, you’re not going to start treating her like a criminal,” Karen said. “My God, do you realize what our family’s been through, how you treated us, how this thing nearly destroyed us? We’re not putting her through that!”

  “But it could help us find out where she’s been, how she disappeared, what happened in the time she was gone, who was behind it.”

  “We said no,” Ryan said. “We have her back home, safe, alive. That’s all that matters now.”

  “Is it?” Asher said.

  “All right.” Zubik ended it. “We don’t need to do any of this now. That’s fine. We just need to be patient and wait for her memory to come back.”

  During the exchange, Maddie had remained silent, watching the faces of Ryan, Karen and Cole, who had not spoken, something that was not lost on Zubik.

  56

  Maddie’s psychiatrist had an aquarium in her office, and Maddie liked watching the fish glide in the water.

  It was calming.

  “How are you doing today?” Dr. Emily Hartley asked on this, Maddie’s third visit since her return over a week ago.

  “I keep trying to remember but it’s hard. I lie awake at night trying to bring it all back, and when I fall asleep, I try to dream it all back but it just doesn’t come.” Maddie touched a fingertip to the aquarium glass, and a little blue fish bubbled up to it. “My parents keep showing me videos and pictures, telling me who’s who, but hardly anything’s coming back and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Don’t stress over it.” Hartley removed the large glasses she wore attached to a beaded chain, letting them rest on her chest. “We know head injuries like yours cause memory loss, or what we call post-traumatic amnesia. In some cases, it only lasts a few hours while in others it lasts for months.”

  “Months?”

  “Yes, and in some cases, longer,” Hartley said. “The trauma can manifest itself in a multitude of ways. It can take a toll on your sleep, your appetite. It can even alter the color of your eyes and hair.”

  “It can?”

  “Yes, and yours is an unusual case possibly linked to other, unknown trauma. It’s quite possible that subconsciously your brain is suppressing troubling memories, terrible things you’ve experienced, as a type of protection. But as I’ve said, it’s unlikely your memory loss will last forever. Everything will come back to you in time.”

  * * *

  At home, the calls from newspapers, online media outlets and TV networks wanting to interview Maddie and her family had not subsided. Friends, neighbors, strangers who’d helped search for her also wanted to see her and her family.

  A few of Maddie’s friends and Ryan and Karen’s coworkers were allowed to see her in what were short, teary hugging sessions. Still, her parents remained steadfast, protecting her privacy. Eventually, after discussing it with Cole and Jill, the family decided to have a celebration event where Maddie could make a statement, but nothing had been finalized yet.

  For now, Maddie spent most of her days in her room using the new laptop
her uncle Cole had bought her to look at family photos and videos.

  Here she is at age four singing, “You Are My Sunshine,” for her mother; here she is at six with her family at Christmas, then blowing out the candles on the cake at her eighth birthday party. Here she is on a school trip at Lake Placid with friends; now here she is at Uncle Cole’s family barbecue, at the pool with Dalton and Tyler. Here she is messing around with Tyler in his room, looking at all those knives in his collection. With each image Maddie fought to remember, tried to put herself in those moments. But nothing worked.

  It was as if she was never there.

  Then her concentration shifted, and she began researching news reports online about her disappearance.

  She devoured headlines, TV news videos and story after story about the search, the reward, her parents pleading for her return, her distraught friends, police dogs, helicopters and people scouring the woods, going door-to-door.

  She came to the stories about the convict, Kalmen Gatt, who died while grabbing a police officer’s gun after being questioned about her when they found pictures he’d taken of her.

  Oh my God! Who was this creep, lurking out there in the woods? Taking pictures. That’s so gross! At least he’s dead.

  Maddie then digested the in-depth newspaper pieces and anniversary features that examined the speculation, theories and rumors concerning her disappearance.

  Then she came to Ryan and Karen’s TV interview with Morgan Stone, Maddie’s pulse pounding as she absorbed it all, parts of it bursting upon her like emotional fireworks.

  How everything pointed to Gatt, the pervert in the woods; how Karen begged for her life; how some people suspected her family was involved in her disappearance; and how Karen and Ryan had denied any part in it. Then came the security camera footage of Ryan violently dragging her into his truck and striking her. She was stunned as she watched. Then came Ryan’s explanation and response, which ended with “We’re not perfect people.”

  Maddie stared at the screen for a long moment before continuing and coming to a headline and article about Karen: Missing Girl’s Mother Has Tragic Family History. She read the article about how Karen was present at the deaths of her sister and mother.

  Maddie caught her breath.

  Transfixed by all she had seen and read. Tears rolled down her face.

  57

  Pop music throbbed from the Ruby Green Community Hall.

  Just a few blocks from the Lane family home, the brick building that once served as the Maddison Lane search center was now a place of celebration.

  The parking lot was jammed. Cars lined both sides of the street, and a new billboard-sized photo of Maddie stood above the entrance.

  Inside the packed hall, the air was jubilant. Bunting and colored lights looped from the rafters and stretched the length of the main room. Music flowed from speakers suspended on walls covered with rainbow-colored crepe-paper streamers.

  At one end, a line of buffet tables offered a variety of food donated from local restaurants, including a never-ending supply of pizzas. At the opposite end was the stage and a podium adorned with flowers. High above it was a massive banner that read: Welcome Home Maddie!!!

  Maddie, her family and several people joined her uncle Cole onstage as the music died and he got things started.

  “Are you guys ready?” Cole nodded to the news cameras. He’d made an arrangement with the media—local, national and international were there—that they were welcome but would leave after Maddie’s statement.

  There would be no interviews at this time.

  “Thank you everyone for coming to help us celebrate. I’ll try to keep it short,” Cole started. “You all know that when my niece vanished four years ago, a light in our world went dark. Ryan, Karen and Tyler suffered the agony of her absence every day. So did everyone who cared about her. Not knowing where she was, if she was alive, was almost more than any of us could bear. Believe me, I know. I also know, from my own life, that with faith, courage and the help of others, nothing’s impossible.” Cole pushed back his tears and tightened his grip on the podium. “We know it’s true because a couple of weeks ago, thanks to Anna Croll, a miracle happened in Florida and we got our angel back. We flew Anna up to join us here now, so we can present her with a check in the full amount of the reward. Anna.”

  Croll hugged Cole to the sound of applause, accepted the envelope then said, “Words cannot describe our gratitude and happiness for Maddie and her family. I’m happy to announce that this full amount will be donated in her name to our nonprofit national missing children’s organization, Searching for Lost Angels.”

  “Okay, now,” Cole said, “what you’ve all been waiting for—Maddie will say a few words. But first, as most of you know, she’s endured some trauma and has not yet recovered her full memory, so it will be short.”

  Maddie smiled and with Karen and Ryan at each shoulder, holding her arms, she went to the podium. A long moment passed as she stood in the glare of the news cameras taking in the audience, their joyful faces, and the news people, all staring at her. At the back she saw detectives Zubik and Asher. Watching.

  She took a breath, unfolded a single sheet of paper and read.

  “‘I’m so, so grateful to be home. I know how lucky I am, how loved I am and I want to thank my family, and, and—’” Maddie’s tears gushed and her mother crushed her tighter “‘—and everyone who searched for me, worked so hard to find me and prayed for me. I love you all with all my heart. It’s good to be home. Thank you.’”

  The hall shook with thunderous applause and cheers. Cole, Jill, Tyler and Dalton joined them and helped Maddie from the podium as Cole waved, the music thudded and the party began.

  * * *

  After Asher got some wings then joined Zubik, who’d heaped potato salad onto a paper plate, Cole, Ryan, Tyler and Dalton arrived at their table.

  “This is a nice way to thank everyone,” Asher said above the music.

  “We didn’t expect to see you here,” Cole said. “Any new leads?”

  Chewing slowly, Zubik said, “We’re working on it. We need to keep talking to Maddison, see what she can recall.”

  “In the meantime, have you thought of an apology?” Cole said.

  Zubik’s eyes narrowed. “A what?”

  “An apology. For the hell you put my brother and his family—all of us—through.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? Because we were, and are, investigating a disturbing case. If things got unpleasant, it’s because they were unpleasant for everyone. We were doing our job, Cole. You better than anyone would know that. Above all, we’re happy that Maddison is safe and home with her family.” Zubik looked at Cole, then Ryan, Tyler and Dalton. “We still need to know what happened, and until we do this is an open case.”

  A few seconds passed.

  “Fair enough, Stan,” Cole said. “Been a tough four years for all of us.”

  “It has, Cole.”

  “I had to release a little steam. No hard feelings.” Cole offered his hand, which prompted a round of handshakes for everyone. “I hear you’re leaving for DC, Fran,” Cole said.

  “Not for another eight weeks. I may extend it to see this case through.”

  Cole nodded, then said to Zubik, “You gotta be thinking about retiring, Stan.”

  “I’m thinking about a lot of things, Cole.”

  * * *

  “Oh my God!” Amanda Morber threw her arms around Maddie.

  Maddie was in a corner of the hall encircled by some of her friends who knew her best before she disappeared. They were juniors and seniors in high school now.

  “You look so different than you did when you were twelve.” Caleb Langford showed Maddie an old picture on his phone.

  Nicole Webb started taking selfies. “That’s because she
’s older, we’re all older. It’s been four years, you idiot.”

  “I never stopped thinking of you, Maddie,” Amanda said.

  “So you really don’t remember what happened?” Lily Wong asked.

  “Not really,” Maddie said.

  “There were all kinds of reports and rumors, like everyone thought that convict killed you.” Noah Trell had a picture on his phone. “His name was Kalmen T. Gatt. See?”

  “Yeah, he was creepy,” Amanda said.

  “We thought you were dead,” Caleb said.

  “So much has happened,” Amanda said. “You know Gabriela Rios died and Logan Bostick moved away?”

  “Tyler told me.”

  “So what do you remember?” Brooke Carson asked.

  “Not much at all. It’s kinda scary,” Maddie said.

  “We heard you were coming to school. Is that true?” Amanda said.

  “Yes, my folks talked to the school. They’re going give me some tests to assess me or something, then put me in some classes, I guess.”

  “How the hell did you end up in Florida?” Noah asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Somebody take you from your room?” Noah asked.

  “I’m not sure. I can’t remember.”

  “You remember us, though, right?” Brooke said.

  “A little. I mean, at home when I saw pictures it started to come back a little. It comes in bits. The doctors said it could be a month or so before it all comes back.”

  After several more minutes of questions from the group, Brooke Carson grabbed Maddie’s arm, taking her aside.

  “I need to talk to my girl,” Brooke told the others. Then, when they were alone, she said, “Maddie, do you remember anything about what you told me just before you went missing?”

  Maddie shook her head, and Brooke stared at her without saying anything. “No, what is it, Brooke? What did I tell you?”

  Brooke looked around, bit her lip, then spoke into Maddie’s ear.