The Night She Disappeared Page 3

  But she never heard back.

  She did, however, receive a text from Russ at 4:52 P.M.:

  Just spoke to C’s agent. C has been texting/talking to her every day since book release last week. And today, nothing. Am really worried now. Call if you hear from her. Sorry about this. xxx

  Anna’s segment ran on the six o’clock news—right after the weather. It made Courtney out to be warm, friendly, smart, and down-to-earth—a poster girl for the deaf community, as well as the talented author of a series of books that inspired teenagers everywhere.

  As the piece wrapped, Anna felt like such a hypocrite, live, on camera, sitting at the news desk, singing Courtney’s praises and pushing her stupid books.

  And all the while, Anna couldn’t help wondering if Courtney was putting the screws to Russ and her with this disappearing act.

  Then again, maybe it wasn’t an act at all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Friday, July 10—7:11 P.M.

  As she turned left off Eastlake Avenue, Anna had a feeling she’d find some jerk’s car in her parking spot. It hadn’t happened in a while, but considering her awful day so far, she figured the shitty streak hadn’t quite ended yet.

  She never understood how people rationalized parking in a spot clearly marked PRIVATE PARKING—VIOLATORS WILL BE TOWED. Maybe they thought if they got away with it, then they didn’t really do anything wrong. Perhaps they told themselves, It will only be for a few minutes or Everybody does it. Nice people always had rationalizations for their bad behavior. Or maybe they were just assholes.

  A breeze off the lake swept through the open car window. Anna told herself to perk up. She didn’t have to go back to the station for tonight’s eleven o’clock newscast. They were repeating her segment without her live intro and wrap-up. Before leaving the studio, she’d washed off her HDTV makeup and changed into a pink sleeveless top and khakis. Unless they called her during the weekend with an emergency assignment, she didn’t have to work until Monday morning.

  And her headache was gone.

  It was a gorgeous evening. She planned to order some cashew chicken from the local Thai place. She’d walk over to the restaurant, pick up dinner, and bring it back to eat in front of a movie on Netflix.

  And she’d try not to obsess over Courtney.

  Cruising down the narrow street that ran parallel to Lake Union, Anna looked at the long, slightly dilapidated carport in the distance. Under its moss-covered, corrugated tin roof, the carport sheltered a dozen vehicles—all of them belonging to residents of the floating homes off the two nearby docks.

  One of the drawbacks to owning a floating home was that parking wasn’t nearby. Anna had to walk about two blocks from the car to her front door. It wasn’t too bad, unless she had a ton of groceries or it was raining. When it was dark, she sometimes got spooked walking by herself down that shadowy, tree-lined road close to the water’s edge.

  That had been particularly true last fall, when she’d had a stalker. Somebody had attempted to break into her house; then her Mini Cooper had been keyed in the carport. She’d also had countless calls and hang-ups at all sorts of hours. For two weeks, she’d endured other little acts of sabotage, and she’d called the police on several occasions. Then, the harassment had stopped just as abruptly as it had begun. The police never found out who had been responsible.

  For a while, she’d suspected Courtney. She’d figured Russ’s wife had found out about them, and this was her revenge. But Anna had told herself she was just feeling guilty and paranoid. Her stalker was probably someone who had seen her on TV. Maybe he—or she—didn’t like one of her news stories. She was a public figure. It came with the job sometimes.

  Yet, occasionally, Anna got a feeling that the culprit was still out there watching her, ready to start up again and make her life miserable.

  Right now, it was still light out. People were walking or jogging along the side of the road, and boats were out on Lake Union. Anna heard laughter and music in the distance.

  As she pulled closer to the carport, she saw her spot was empty. Maybe her night would be okay after all.

  She backed her blue four-year-old Mini Cooper into the spot. She was just climbing out of the car when her phone rang.

  Stepping out from under the cool shade of the carport, she checked the name on the caller ID: Russell Knoll, MD. Anna clicked on the phone. “So, have you heard from Courtney?”

  “No, I was hoping she’d watched your segment and called you.”

  “Nope, sorry,” Anna muttered. “After the broadcast, I left her another text message. That makes three unanswered texts I’ve left for her today.”

  The voice mail greeting on Courtney’s phone hadn’t been her usual recording. Instead, each time Anna had called, she’d gotten an automated message from the provider. It made her wonder if Courtney’s phone was out of commission. Was the battery dead? Anna figured Russ had gotten the same impersonal greeting when he’d called his wife. So she didn’t say anything. But it was troubling.

  “Well, your segment was terrific,” Russ said. “I figured, for sure, Courtney would text you after seeing that.”

  “Thanks,” Anna said. She started walking toward her dock. “Anyway, she didn’t get in touch with me. You sure she didn’t go to your cabin on Whidbey Island?”

  “Positive. I checked with the neighbors. They have a key. They said the place is empty.” He paused. “God, I’m so torn. Part of me is like, good riddance. But I’m terrified something bad has happened to her. And I miss you. I really want to be with you right now, even if it’s just for a walk.”

  Anna hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Russ.”

  “Are you mad at me or something?”

  She sighed. “No, I’m just tired . . .”

  “Boy, do I feel like an idiot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I thought you’d be happy to see me. Turn around.”

  Anna stopped. “What do you mean?”

  A woman jogger ran past her.

  “Turn around,” Russ repeated.

  Anna obeyed and saw him about a hundred feet behind her. Russ had the phone close to his ear. He stood six feet four inches tall and had a swimmer’s build. He was handsome with thick, wavy black hair and brown eyes. In his sage-colored polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals, he looked like a J.Crew model, the summer catalog.

  As the woman jogger passed him, she slowed down to check him out. Then she moved on. Women—and quite a few men—were constantly checking him out, and he was oblivious.

  Anna gave him a tentative wave. “Hi,” she said into the phone.

  “Can I walk you home at least?”

  “Sure,” she said, working up a smile, which quickly faded. “So, is Courtney’s car still in the parking lot?”

  She saw him nod as he walked toward her. “Yeah,” he answered on the phone. “I checked the house, and it doesn’t look like she’s been back. I even left a voice mail with her mother on the off chance Courtney’s been in touch with her. I haven’t heard back yet. It’s really driving me crazy.”

  “I’m sure that’s her intention!” Anna called to him as she put away her phone.

  She watched him slip the phone into his pants pocket as he approached her. He shook his head. “I’m sorry to go on about this, honey,” he said. Russ cautiously glanced around and then drew her close and briefly kissed her on the lips. “How are you doing? Feeling any better?”

  She nodded. “Better than this morning. It’ll be a cold day in hell before I ever drink another Lemon Drop.”

  He put his arm around her as they started walking. “I think I’m starting to get your headache. I’ve been a wreck all day. I can’t help thinking that something’s happened to her.”

  “You said she packed a bag,” Anna pointed out. “That’s usually an indication someone has gone away of their own volition.”

  “I know, that’s what I keep telling myself. At the same time, I wonder if I should call the
police. I keep going back and forth about it. I don’t want to jump the gun. She hasn’t been missing twenty-four hours yet. And like you say, the packed bag’s an indication . . .”

  Anna squirmed away from him.

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Russ said. “I’ll shut up. I know you don’t want to hear it. But you can’t expect me not to worry about her.”

  “Of course you’re going to worry about her.” Anna sighed. “And I really don’t mind you talking about it. I just feel a little ridiculous hearing it while you have your arm around me.”

  Russ shoved his hand in his pocket. “I was right earlier. You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

  Anna shook her head. “No, I’m just disappointed in how this is all—evolving. For a while, the last thing I wanted to do was break up your marriage. I never thought of myself as a homewrecker. But then, I knew you were miserable. I kept hoping you’d pack a bag and walk out on her. Instead, last night, Courtney did the packing and walking. And now you’re worried about her. She’s not here, and yet she’s still making you jump through hoops. The kicker is, I can’t really blame you for letting her do that to you, Russ. I mean, I don’t even like her. Yet, an hour ago, on the news, I sang her praises to half of Seattle. I don’t even like her writing, for God’s sake. So Courtney’s been controlling me, too. And like you, I’m worried. If something serious has happened to her, we’ll never forgive ourselves. And if she’s purposely disappeared just to screw with our heads, I’m worried you and she are going to reconcile.”

  Anna turned down a short path to the chain-link gate to the dock. A wood placard was attached to the gate: PRIVATE PROPERTY—NO TRESPASSING. Russ opened the gate for her, and they both stepped down onto the wooden dock. Seagulls squawked overhead. A gentle breeze drifted off the lake. Anna could smell someone barbecuing dinner on an outdoor grill.

  “I promise you, Courtney and I are finished,” Russ said, shutting the gate behind them. “I’m sorry she beat me to the punch and left first. But the point is—she and I aren’t getting back together after this. We’re done.”

  “Meanwhile, she’s putting us through the wringer, isn’t she?” Anna said.

  They passed the other floating homes off the dock. Anna noticed her neighbors out on their deck—with the grill smoking. Ordinarily, she would have held on to Russ’s hand, but not now. She waved and nodded at the older couple and kept walking toward her place at the end of the dock.

  Anna often referred to her home as a houseboat, but it didn’t sail out on the water, so technically her place was a floating home. The cedar shake–style bungalow had a fresh coat of white trim. There was a deck in the back, and a second deck off the boxy-looking master bedroom loft upstairs. The front door was painted red, with a porthole window beside it. The potted azaleas by the entrance were in full bloom.

  “Anyway, Courtney’s gone,” Anna whispered, reaching into her purse for her keys. “But we can’t exactly kick up our heels about it, not until one of us hears from her—or her lawyer.”

  “I’ll know more by tomorrow afternoon,” Russ said. “Courtney has a book signing at noon on Bainbridge Island, Eagle Harbor Books. If she doesn’t show up for that, well, then I’ll know for sure something’s wrong. She wouldn’t miss one of her author events. Courtney could have triple pneumonia, and she’d still drag herself to a book signing.”

  “In the meantime, you and I can’t afford to be seen together,” Anna said. She unlocked the door and turned to face him. “What if something really did happen to Courtney, and you end up calling the police tomorrow to report her missing? I can just hear it now. So what did you do on that first night after your wife went missing, Dr. Knoll?—Why, I took a nice, little stroll with my mistress and hung out with her for a while. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  She collected her mail from the box. “Anyway, in answer to your question ages ago, no, I’m not really mad at you. It’s the whole situation I’m mad at.”

  Russ nodded sheepishly. “I understand. And I agree. It’s just there’s a part of me that feels like we’re finally free, and I want to start my life with you right now.”

  He leaned in close. His mouth brushed against hers.

  Anna pulled away. She glanced out at all the boats on the water. She couldn’t help wondering if Courtney was very much alive and on one of those vessels right now, spying on them through a pair of binoculars, maybe even reading their lips.

  “Russ, we can’t,” she whispered.

  He nodded again.

  In their silence, Anna heard a knocking noise.

  “What is that?” Russ asked, obviously hearing it, too.

  They followed the noise down to the end of the dock, near where Anna had her dinghy tied to the lower deck of her floating home. In the gentle breeze, ripples ran across the water, and the dinghy kept tapping against the deck. The boat was a good size—with room enough for four passengers. A power motor was attached to the stern. The shiny, dark blue tarp covering the boat was slightly askew. Anna hadn’t taken the dinghy out on the water in two months. It didn’t make sense that the lines had suddenly gotten loose. It hadn’t stormed or anything last night.

  “How did that happen?” Anna heard herself ask.

  “Weird,” Russ murmured. “I didn’t notice any tapping noise when I brought you home last night. At least, let me secure the boat for you before I go. You don’t want it drifting away.”

  The dinghy couldn’t be reached from the dock, only from the water or from Anna’s deck.

  She had some weatherproof patio furniture from Costco on the deck—along with a few potted plants. There was also a cheap, portable outdoor grill. A metal railing surrounded the outdoor space, except for a gap that left access to the dinghy. A gate was supposed to slide across the breach, but it had been stuck in the open position for years.

  Anna noticed one of the patio chairs was tipped over. As she started back to the front door with Russ, she wondered if somebody had broken into her houseboat—or at least, had tried to break in.

  Russ must have been thinking the same thing. “Better let me go in first,” he said, reaching the front door. He stepped inside, and Anna followed him into the house.

  On the wall in the front hallway, Anna had a huge, framed poster for the Seattle World’s Fair from 1962, with the Space Needle prominently featured. To her left were the bathroom, linen closet, and the study that had been her mother’s old bedroom. The steep stairway led to the master bedroom in the loft. Anna headed in that direction and took a quick glance around. Nothing seemed out of place. Her laptop was still on the desk in the study. The built-in bookcase still had her TV journalism awards on one shelf. Some of them were silver- or gold-plated, and the rest at least looked expensive. But nothing was missing.

  Meanwhile, Russ headed in the other direction—past the front hall closet and into the living room. It was only a few moments before Anna caught up with him. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed in there, either. One wall had another built-in bookcase; and the various family antiques her mother had managed to hold on to were still on the shelves, untouched. On the other side of the bookcase was the kitchen entrance. Anna poked her head in. Everything was as she’d left it this morning. The kitchen was small, lacking in counter space. Her empty coffee cup was still on the slightly banged-up table of the built-in breakfast booth, the same table where she’d often done her homework while in high school. The appliances were all new, stainless steel and “apartment size.” A Tiffany-style lamp hung above the breakfast table. The lamp always swayed a bit during windstorms.

  The door connecting to her mom’s old bedroom was open—just as Anna had left it this morning.

  Russ headed for the sliding glass doors at the far end of the living room. The spectacular view included the lake, the Space Needle, and Queen Anne Hill with all the lights twinkling. The dusk sky was beautiful, almost surreal against the gleaming water. A big picture window—with a built-in love seat—provided a view to the north with Gas Work
s Park and the Aurora Bridge. On the other side of the room was a stand-alone cone-shaped midcentury modern gas fireplace and, behind that, another picture window that looked out at Lake Union Park and the downtown skyscrapers.

  She watched Russ move the sawed-off broom handle she always kept lodged in the grooves to the sliding glass door for extra security. Then he unlocked the door. It squeaked as he slid it open.

  She told herself that if someone had broken in and gone out on the deck, they’d certainly done a damn good job of covering their tracks. Nothing was out of place or missing.

  Anna wandered out to the deck. She watched Russ climb down to the lower tier and retie the lines to secure the boat. He peeled back the off-centered tarp. “Have you used this at all recently?” he asked.

  “Not since we took it out on that warm Saturday in May,” she said. She remembered Courtney had taken a weekend alone to write at their place on Whidbey Island. So Anna and Russ had spent that Saturday aimlessly motoring around Lake Union in the boat together. Then they’d had a cozy dinner at her place, where he’d spent the night, quite the rarity.

  “I remember,” he said with a brief, wistful smile. But then he looked down toward the floor of the boat and sighed. “Anyway, there’s some water in here, just a couple of puddles. You sure no one has taken this out in the last day or two?”

  “Not that I know of.” From where she stood at the edge of the deck, Anna craned her neck to have a look. “Are the paddles still in there?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. Russ checked the outboard motor. “You still have half a tank of gas. The motor looks okay.” Balanced on the ledge, he started to tug the tarp back in place over the top of the dinghy. “Maybe I’m making too big a deal out of this. Some rain might have gotten in here or something. But it’s weird that the lines suddenly came loose for no reason.”

  Biting her lip, Anna watched him for a moment. Then she looked at all the boats out on the water—at least twenty of them cruising around this part of the lake.