The Vanished (2 page)

When David and Alvarado arrived at Ardmore Park, the K-9 unit was already there. David spotted four police officers canvassing the wooded area. After he showed the K-9 handlers where he had parked when he last visited Ardmore Park, David joined Carol. She had come half an hour earlier and had to leave their car on the street because the parking lot was cordoned off by police cruisers. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her mascara smeared all over her face. As they watched the police dogs move around the parking lot, sniffing the air and the ground, David said to Carol, “They’re wasting their time. Annie’s not here.”

Carol said nothing.

Twenty minutes after the search commenced, David began to wonder if the dogs, which had been in the parking lot the whole time, were unable to track Annie’s scent. A minute later Alvarado came up to him and asked, “When was the last time your daughter wore those sneakers?”

“Yesterday,” David replied.

Alvarado looked at Carol and then back at David. “It appears that she never left the parking lot.”

If Annie had never left the parking lot, why hadn’t he seen her there?

She must have been hiding behind a car. Or maybe she’d been snatched before he started looking for her.

At a quarter past seven the search was called off, and David and Carol went home. As he drove, David thought about how hard it was going to be to find Annie. They had no leads or clues except for the useless—and questionable—information provided by that Eddie fellow.   

It would be hard but not impossible. Criminals make mistakes all the time. Annie’s abductor was going to slip up at some point. Maybe he or she already had.

David realized that Annie might be dead. Most kidnapped children who were killed were dead within three hours of the abduction, and it was over four hours since Annie’s disappearance. Was the kidnapper going to kill Annie?

If his daughter had really been snatched a few seconds after she got out of the car, her abduction had to have been a planned rather than a random act. The kidnapper must have followed him and Annie from their house to the park. David supposed that most planned kidnappings were committed for the sake of ransom. If it was a ransom kidnapping, the perpetrator would try to keep Annie alive at least until his demands were satisfied. And there was a good chance David would get Annie back after he paid the ransom.

3

Half an hour after they came home, David received a call from Detective Ray Barton, the investigator assigned to Annie’s case. The detective said that he would like to meet David.

“Are you home?” he asked.

“Yes,” David replied.

“Let’s meet at your place in forty-five minutes. Does that work for you?”

“Yes. I’ll see you in forty-five minutes.”

Detective Barton was a tall man in his forties with a small belly, bushy eyebrows, and thick fingers. He was clean-shaven, and his dark hair was smoothly combed back. The little finger on his right hand was adorned with an onyx ring. When David let him in, Barton asked if he should take off his shoes. David said he could keep them on.

“You have a beautiful home,” the detective said as they went to the great room.

“Thank you,” David said.

“Can I have a tour of the house?”

“Sure.”

David suspected Barton asked for a tour not because he was curious about how rich people lived, but because the police were supposed to search a missing child’s home even if the child was last seen elsewhere. They visited every room in the mansion and the garage. The way Barton surveyed the rooms—methodically and carefully—indicated that David’s guess was correct. As they passed through the billiards room, David asked Barton if he had contacted the FBI.

“Yes, I have,” the detective said.

“Are you going to issue an AMBER alert for Annie?”

“We’ve already done it. And we’ve already entered her information into the National Crime Information Center’s database.”

“Have you contacted the National Center for Missing Children?”

“Yes, we have.”

David thought about the missing children posters at the grocery store. Two weeks ago he had stopped to look at them and had been pained to see that some of those children had been missing for over ten years. Soon Annie’s poster would be on that wall, too.

They were in the master bedroom when it occurred to David that Annie might have drowned in Ardmore Park’s pond. It didn’t matter that the police dogs hadn’t found Annie’s scent outside the parking lot because dogs were not infallible.

“Are you going to search the pond in the park?” he asked.

“We’re searching it now.”

After David showed Barton the garage, they went to the great room, where the detective opened his notebook and asked, “Does your daughter have a cellphone?”

“No,” David said. Alvarado had asked this question during the initial interview at the police department. Had Barton read Alvarado’s report?

“Was Annie upset with you today or yesterday?”

“No, she wasn’t.”

“What about you, Mrs. Miller?” Barton looked at Carol, who was sitting on the sofa next to David. “Was Annie upset with you?”

“No.” Carol shook her head.

“Has Annie ever threatened to run away?”

“No,” David said. “Do you think a five-year-old girl could run away?”

“I can’t rule that out.”

“Annie’s a very happy girl,” Carol said. “She’d never run away.”

“What do you think happened to Annie?” Barton asked.

“I believe she was kidnapped,” David said. “I think the kidnapper followed us to the park and took Annie when she got out of the car.”

“Where were you when she got out of the car?”

“I was behind the wheel. I was checking my phone.”

“Was Annie in the backseat?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see her get kidnapped?”

“No.”

“Do you suspect anyone?”

“No.”

“Do you have any enemies?”

“No, I don’t think we do.”

“You told Officer Alvarado that Annie has epilepsy. Is she taking any medication for it?”

“Yes. She’s taking Dilantin and Tegretol.”

“What will happen if she stops taking them?”

“Her seizures will become more frequent and more severe.”

Barton thought for a moment and then asked, “Do you own this house?”

“Yes,” David said.

“You’re a wealthy man, aren’t you?”

“I guess you could say so.”

“Do you think your daughter was kidnapped for ransom?”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

“I want to tell you something important. If you’re contacted by the kidnappers, don’t negotiate with them without informing us first. Call me as soon as you hear from them, okay?”

“Sure.”

“We’re going to monitor your phones in case the kidnappers call you. We’ll monitor your landline and your and Mrs. Miller’s cellphones.”

“Okay.”

“I need the names and contact information of all the people you employ in your house.”

David gave the detective the requested information and then asked, “Do you know if they have surveillance cameras in Ardmore Park?”

“I was told there are no surveillance cameras in that park.”

David clenched his teeth in disappointment.

“What’s the name of your daughter’s dentist?” Barton asked.

“Mark Goldberg.”

“What’s his phone number?”

David gave the detective Mark Goldberg’s office number. He knew why Barton wanted Annie’s dentist’s contact information: the police might need Annie’s dental records to identify her body.

“Do you mind taking a lie detector test?”  

“I’ll take it.”

David wasn’t offended by the detective’s request: asking the parents of a missing child to undergo a polygraph examination was standard practice.

“Are you available tomorrow at one pm?”

“Yes.”

“What about you, Mrs. Miller? Will you take a lie detector test?”

“Yes.” Carol nodded.

“Can I schedule your test for tomorrow at three pm?”

“Okay.”

To David, the detective said, “Is your daughter insured?”

“Yes,” David replied.

“How much is she insured for?”

“I believe it’s five hundred thousand.”

“Why do you ask?” Carol said. “Do you think we killed Annie for the insurance money?”

“No, ma’am. I’m just gathering information.” Barton looked at his notes for a few seconds and then said to David, “If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m retired.”

“What did you do before you retired?”

“I worked in the Pima County Attorney’s office.”

“Pima County? Where is it?”

“Arizona. Tucson is in Pima County.”

“You were a prosecutor?”

David was about to reply when Carol covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

“Honey—”

“I’m sorry.” Carol stood up and hurried out of the room.

Barton closed his notebook and said, “Were you a prosecutor?”

“Yes.”

“Did you win a lottery?”

“No. I inherited quite a bit of money.”

“I see.”

“Detective, I’d like to offer a reward of one hundred thousand dollars for finding my daughter. No questions asked. Can you put this information on your posters?”

“Sure.” Barton reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrew a card, and handed it to David. “Here’s my card. Please call me if you have any new information. If the kidnapper contacts you, call me immediately.”

“I will,” David promised.

Before leaving, Detective Barton asked for a copy of the surveillance footage for the last week, and David gave it to him.

4

They showed Annie’s picture on the 10 pm news, and when David saw it, his head began to throb with pain. After the news ended, David went to the website of the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children and searched for Annie’s name. His daughter’s name was not in the Center’s database. He called the Center and learned that Annie’s poster would be added to the database by midnight.

Then David phoned his friend Noah Hallford, who was the president of a small bank headquartered in Dallas, and asked if he knew the Plano police chief or the head of the Dallas FBI office. Noah said he was friends with the Plano police chief. He had never met the head of the Dallas FBI office.

David told Noah about Annie’s disappearance and then said, “Can you ask the chief to give Annie’s case special attention?”

“No problem,” Noah said. “I’ll talk to him tonight. I’m very sorry about your daughter.”

David spent an hour reading online articles about missing children. He found out that in forty percent of stereotypical kidnappings—that was what they called abductions perpetrated by a stranger or slight acquaintance with the intent to exact a ransom, rape, murder, or permanently keep the child—the victim was killed. And in four percent of these kidnappings the child was never found.

At one o’clock in the morning, David went to the dining room and poured a glass of whiskey. He was tired, but he didn’t feel sleepy. He drank some whiskey, then picked up the receiver and brought it to his ear. The phone was working.

Why wasn’t the kidnapper calling?

Maybe it wasn’t about ransom? Maybe Annie had been abducted by a sex predator? If that was the case, she was probably dead already.

David drew a deep breath.

The abductor might be an organ harvester. David had read that the body parts of one person were worth about a million dollars on the black market.

David began to pace the room.

He needed to be hopeful. He needed to think of a scenario under which Annie wasn’t harmed.

A childless couple. Annie’s life isn’t in danger if she was abducted by, or sold to, a childless couple.

What would a childless couple do when they discovered that Annie had epilepsy?

They might kill her. She had seen their faces, so it would be too risky to let her live, wouldn’t it?

He drank the rest of his whiskey.

He had failed Annie.

And Brian—he had failed Brian, too.

David’s chest tightened at the thought of his son, who had drowned in the pool two years ago at the age of four.

Would he have been more watchful if Annie were his biological daughter? Would he have let her out of his sight in the park that day if she were his flesh and blood?

It was a ridiculous question. He loved Annie as much as he’d loved Brian. He didn’t care that she didn’t carry his DNA.

5

The next morning, at Carol’s suggestion, David called a billboard advertising company and bought a spot on twenty digital billboards in the Dallas area. The company also agreed to design the ad, which was going to feature Annie’s photo, description, and last known whereabouts, as well as the reward amount and the contact number for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children.