Authors: Tim Kizer
The Vanished (25 page)
“So we have a deal? You get seven grand, and we leave the police out of it?”
“Yeah. That’s what Bob said, isn’t it?”
Bob patted the door of the car and announced, “Okay, I’m done. You can go. I’ll be right behind you.”
As he pulled into the road, Richard asked, “Is Bob your boyfriend?”
It crossed his mind that the picture Bob had taken of his license plate might have a location stamp. He was sure it had a date stamp. Potentially, this photo could be used to prove that he had been in that forest the day Laura had gone missing.
“He’s my brother.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
Interestingly, Richard was pleased to hear that Mary was single. Again, he noted that Mary was very beautiful. He wouldn’t mind if she made a move on him.
One day, Mary or Bob might happen to learn that his sister’s body had been found in that forest. He wondered if he ought to be worried about it.
She did notice the blood stain, didn’t she?
If he were a ruthless cold-blooded monster like Freddy Krueger, he would have killed them both to eliminate any risk. But he was not Freddy Krueger.
3.
When he pulled up in front of the hospital, Mary said, “I think we're going to become friends.”
She proved to be right. They got married three months later. After spending one and a half years in Mexico, they moved to Mill Creek, a small town twenty miles north of Seattle. Bob moved to the Seattle area, too. For five months after they had first met, Richard wondered if Mary suspected that he’d had something to do with Laura’s disappearance. As far as he knew, his sister’s body had never been discovered (he religiously searched the news on the Internet for any information on Laura for a year; he stopped doing it because every time he had performed a search, he had relived Laura’s death). However, Richard was willing to bet Mary believed that Laura was dead.
Something was telling him that he should not let Mary out of his sight. Since she was good in bed, living with her was a pleasant proposition.
By the time they moved back to the States, Richard did not feel disquieted anymore. The memory of Laura’s death had faded and settled at the bottom of his consciousness.
Eighteen months after their arrival in Mill Creek, he buried Mary’s body in the woods.
CHAPTER 3
1.
“Hello!” Richard waved to Jim Dystel, his next-door neighbor, who stood on the porch, smoking a cigarette. Jim nodded in response. Richard took the mail out of the mailbox and went back into the house. He tossed the mail on the coffee table in the living room and proceeded to the kitchen, where he grabbed a can of beer from the refrigerator. Sipping beer, he returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa. He was home alone. Mary was probably at a beauty salon: yesterday she had complained that she looked like an electrocuted poodle.
When Richard was about to start sorting through the mail, the phone rang. He checked the caller ID and saw that the number was blocked. Lowering the volume on the television, he picked up the receiver and said, “Hello?”
“Can I talk to Richard Brower?” a man’s voice replied.
“Yes. I’m Richard Brower.”
“Are you alone?”
“Who is this?”
“Is your wife home?”
“Can you tell me who you are?”
“My name’s John. I have important information for you. It’s about your wife.”
“Okay, I’m listening.” Richard pressed the mute button on the TV remote.
“Is your wife home? I don’t want her to overhear us.”
“I’m alone.”
“Good. Your wife is cheating on you, Richard. Did you know that?”
No, Richard did not know that.
“No, I didn’t. Who is he?”
He leaned back and crossed his legs.
“I could give you the guy’s name and address. For a price.”
“How much?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“Do you have proof that he’s fucking my wife?”
“Yes, I do. So you’re interested?”
“I am. But I’m not sure I can pay you five grand for this.”
“How much can you pay?”
“A thousand. If you give me the proof.”
“Let me think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.” John hung up.
Richard put the receiver down on the cradle and then folded his arms on his chest, staring blankly into space.
He was still getting used to the idea of Mary cheating on him. He was not shocked or astonished, though. He did not find it hard to believe that Mary had been sleeping with someone else. He had read that people were genetically programmed to cheat, so he was not going to make a big deal out of this. He was not going to go ballistic or get depressed like most cuckolds.
She might be with that guy right now. She might be riding his cock at this very moment.
Richard drew a deep breath and took the can of beer from the table.
What should he do? Should he interrogate Mary now or wait until he had her lover’s name?
He ought to wait. He needed to see what kind of proof John had. What if John was simply playing a practical joke on him? Or trying to besmirch an honest woman?
Suppose it’s true. Suppose Mary is actually cheating on me. What then?
It depended on whether he loved Mary.
Did he love her? It was a difficult question. In the beginning, when he had decided to marry Mary, he had been attracted to her because she was pretty and easygoing. There had been a certain fondness, but it had mostly been sexual in nature.
Had he fallen in love with Mary over the years?
Mary was a beautiful woman, there was no denying that. However, beauty alone was not enough. To fall in love, Richard needed to have a spiritual connection with a woman. And he had to trust her, too. He felt no spiritual connection with Mary, and he didn’t trust her. The conclusion was clear: he had never been in love with Mary. But it didn’t mean he was unhappy living with her.
Anyway, if she wanted to sleep with other guys, let her do it, it was a free country, after all. He was not going to treat Mary like his property. He would not stand in her way.
But what if she decided to solve her financial problems by blackmailing him? What if one day she came up to him and said, “Richard, I just found out that there was a series of horrible murders in Cincinnati eight years ago. You lived there around that time, didn’t you? I think it was you who killed those people.”
She could certainly do that. She hated to work. Her whole family hated to work.
Richard closed his eyes and imagined Bob Logan sucking marijuana smoke out of a bong.
And she might tell her lover about her suspicions.
Mary, fucking traitor. Was she really capable of this?
Richard grimaced with pain. Then he told himself that he shouldn't get anxious. Care killed the cat, as they say.
Richard did a few breathing exercises to calm down his nerves.
Why did he think that Mary knew about the killings?
The damn blood stain—she may have figured out how it had gotten on his shirt.
She hadn't taken that stain seriously when she had seen it, and it was highly unlikely that she still remembered it now, over three years later. She had never followed the news, both local and national, so the odds were she didn’t know about those murders in Cincinnati.
Richard walked up to the window.
Besides, she would never voluntarily live under one roof with a serial killer, even for the sake of money. She was a woman, a fragile, weak thing.
Richard crossed his arms on his chest, and a small smile touched his lips. He was going to have a chance to play a jealous husband. It might be fun.
He would make lemonade out of this lemon. He was going to get the last laugh, he was sure of it.
2.
That night, Richard stayed in the living room until three o’clock. As he walked down the second-floor hall, he strained his ears, listening for sounds indicating that Mary was awake. Moving as quietly as a burglar, he entered the master bedroom and approached the bed. He observed Mary for a few seconds to make sure that she was asleep, then took her cellphone from the nightstand and went to the study. There, he installed on the cell the spy application he had purchased on the Internet two hours after John’s call. According to its developer, the app could record all incoming and outgoing calls and allowed its user to read all sent and received text messages. The software was completely undetectable by the owner of the phone on which it was installed.
When he returned to the bedroom, Richard was pleased to see that Mary was still in the arms of Morpheus. He put the cellphone back on the nightstand and got into bed. He fell asleep half an hour later.
CHAPTER 4
1.
While eating breakfast, Richard decided to stay home until John called. He regretted not having given John his cellphone number. He checked the spy application control panel every thirty minutes after Mary left for the mall at half past eleven. By two o’clock she had received three text messages, all of which were from Bob Logan, and sent two text messages, both of which were to Bob Logan. Mary came home at ten minutes past three. While she was in the kitchen, making herself a salad, Richard went to the study and checked the control panel once more. He saw that someone had called Mary about fifteen minutes before she had returned from the mall. Richard stuck the earphones in his ears and opened the audio file for the phone call.
”Hello, Mary. Are you busy?” said a man's voice. Richard did not recognize it.
The fact that a man he didn’t know was talking to Mary on the phone wasn’t suspicious in and of itself. This guy might be a coworker, or a friend, or a relative. And the question the man had asked was quite innocent.
“No, I’m not busy,” Mary replied. “What are you doing? Where are you?”
“I’m home. I miss you so much.”
Now
that
was suspicious.
”But it's only been two days.”
It would be nice if Mary called this asshole by name.
Richard swiveled his chair to face the door. He didn’t want Mary to enter the study unnoticed.
”Every day away from you is torture. We should have met yesterday. Why didn’t we meet yesterday? I feel so empty without you.”
This son of a bitch was talking like a character from a soap opera.
By the way, Mary was an attractive woman, but she wasn’t hot enough to warrant all this melodramatic exaggeration.
Every day away from you is torture.
Really?
“I told you I was very busy.” Mary sighed. “Besides, we need to be careful. I don’t want Richard to get suspicious.”
Name. Say the name, you whore! Richard clenched his right hand into a fist.
”All I want is for you to be happy. It kills me that I can't be with you every minute of every day.”
Well, it was official now: Mary was really cheating on him. John had told him the truth.
Richard smiled. It took him less than a day to find proof of Mary’s infidelity.
”We will be together, I promise. You know that I love you.”
Say his name, dammit! What's his name?
Richard pressed his lips tightly together. He couldn’t wait to go online and perform a reverse search on Mary’s lover’s phone number. Since the phone call was being recorded, Richard didn’t have to listen to it live; however, he found it extremely hard to take his focus off the conversation. For some reason, he was mesmerized by this lovey-dovey exchange.
”I wish we could meet more often. I can't live without you, Mary.”
They were silent for a few seconds. Then the lover asked, “What about our plan?”
”What about it? Did you change your mind?”
”No... Does your husband know about the plan? Does he suspect anything?”
Mary didn't answer for such a long time Richard began to think the call had gotten dropped. At last she said, “No. He doesn’t suspect anything.” Mary breathed a sigh. “To tell you the truth, I'm afraid.”
”Afraid of what?”
There was another pause.
”I think Richard will kill me if he finds out about us,” Mary said in a low voice. “I mean he’ll actually kill me.”
”Kill you? Did he threaten you? Mary, tell me.”
”No, he didn’t threaten me. I just feel it.”
”Calm down, honey. You’re exaggerating. It must be stress. Why would he do that? Is he violent?”
”No. It's hard to explain. Call it intuition.”
”I think you should relax and forget all your fears. You'll be free very soon.”
”I’ll try.”
“So are you ready? Do you remember what you have to do?”
”Yes, I do.”
Was Mary deliberately avoiding calling this moron by name? Richard did not rule that out.
“Preparation is the key to success.”
“I understand that.”
”Do you have any doubts?”
”No.”
”He’s not going to feel any pain. If you have second thoughts or are scared, tell me. It's not too late to pull the plug.”
”I said I'm in. Let's not talk about it on the phone.”
“Okay.”
“I’m about to enter my house. I’ll call you later.”
“Is your husband home?”
“Yes.”
“Can you come over tonight?”
“Maybe. I’ll do my best. Goodbye, honey.”
“Goodbye.”
Mary hung up.
Richard stared at the laptop screen for a moment and then removed the earphones. When he closed the laptop, the door opened, and Mary entered the room.
“Are you busy?” She stood behind his chair and put her hands on his shoulders.
“I’ve been checking the markets.” He pointed at the computer monitor on his desk, on which the Dow Jones chart was displayed.
“Are they up?”
“Slightly.” He turned his face to Mary, and they kissed.
“Good. Did you do anything fun today?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you be.” Mary headed for the door.
After Mary left, Richard went on the Internet and did a reverse search on Mary’s lover’s phone number. The search came up empty. He did not find the lover’s number in the unlisted number directory, either. It appeared that the guy was using one of those prepaid disposable cellphones.
Disposable cells were very popular among drug dealers. Was Mary’s lover a drug dealer? It was certainly possible. Drug dealers usually had a lot of money, and women loved rich men.
He would ask John what Mary’s lover did for a living.
THE END OF SAMPLE