The Vanished (20 page)

Vincent went back to the hotel at a quarter past seven.

After he changed his clothes, he called Bob Navarro and Dennis Hatton and told them to keep the surveillance going until seven o’clock tomorrow evening. He said they could leave the vans unattended for the night, and instructed them to take cabs to their hotels.

“I’ll sleep in the van,” Bob said.

Dennis told Vincent he would spend the night at the hotel.

At 7:58 pm, while Vincent was still on the phone with Dennis, Elizabeth’s car began moving. At 8:23 pm it stopped in the parking lot of the Antonio’s restaurant in Tempe, which was less than thirteen miles from Vincent’s hotel. Vincent went to the restaurant and watched Elizabeth for some time from a distance. Sitting with Elizabeth at the table were her husband and two other people, a man and a woman in their sixties. Elizabeth’s car left the parking lot of Antonio’s at 9:35 pm and pulled into the driveway of Elizabeth’s house twenty-seven minutes later.

Later that night, Vincent listened to the recordings of the transmissions from his bugs in Elizabeth Riggle’s house and Sam Powell’s apartment. He learned that Elizabeth had told her husband the news about Tom when he had come home at ten minutes to six. Sam shared the news with his girlfriend at five past seven.

Vincent stayed up until four in the morning, checking Elizabeth’s and Sam’s email accounts and cellphones every five minutes. He woke at eight am, when his cellphone alarm went off. Without getting out of bed, he grabbed his laptop from the nightstand and opened the cellphone spy program. Since Vincent had fallen asleep, Sam had sent one text message and Elizabeth two. The recipient of Sam’s message was Elizabeth, and the recipient of both of Elizabeth’s messages was Sam. There was nothing of interest in these texts.

Neither Sam nor Elizabeth had sent any emails while Vincent was asleep.

After he talked to Bob and Dennis, Vincent took a shower and then had breakfast at a nearby fast-food joint.

Carol called at a few minutes past noon and asked if he had any good news for her. Vincent said that he didn’t.

“So neither of my parents contacted Tom?” Carol said.

“Not yet.”

“Do you think they will ever contact him?”

“Well, I’m beginning to think your parents don’t know that Tom faked his death.”

“And you still have no proof that he did fake his death?”

“No.”

“I really hope it’s Tom who did it.”

“Why?”

“He won’t kill Annie. I’m sure he won’t kill her.”

You want to believe he won’t kill Annie.

“I hope you’re right.”

“What are you going to do now? Do you have a plan?”

“I’ve got a couple of ideas. Are you still in Phoenix?”

“No, I’m in Plano. My mother found some of Tom’s credit card statements. I should receive them tomorrow. When are you coming back to Dallas?”

“Friday.”

“David’s sentencing hearing is in nineteen days. Do you think you can find Annie before then?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think I can find your daughter before the hearing.”

5

Neither Sam nor Elizabeth tried to get in touch with Tom on Wednesday. They didn’t try to contact their son on Thursday, either. They didn’t say anything suggesting that they knew Tom had faked his death last year.

Evidently Tom didn’t trust his parents enough to let them in on his big secret.

Vincent canceled the surveillance at ten pm on Thursday. On Friday, after they returned the vans to the rental agency, he called Carol’s mother to inform her that the body “found” on Monday didn’t belong to Tom. To cover his tracks, he used a disposable phone. Elizabeth said that she remembered him and that she had been waiting for his call.

“I’m calling to let you know that there’s been a mistake,” Vincent said. “It wasn’t your son who was killed last Monday in Avondale. It was someone else. I’m sorry for the error, Mrs. Riggle.”

“You said you were sure it was Tom.”

“Turns out we were wrong. Mistakes like this happen from time to time. I’m very sorry.”

“Do you know where my son is?”

“No. Your son is still presumed to have been murdered last year.”

“I see.”

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Riggle.”

He terminated the call and then dialed Sam Powell’s number.

“Hello, is this Sam Powell?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Detective Duncan. We spoke last Tuesday.”

“How are you doing, Detective?”

“I’m great, thank you. When we met three days ago, I told you we’d found your son’s body in Avondale. It turned out we were wrong. The victim is not Tom. I’m sorry for the error, Mister Powell.”

“It wasn’t Tom?” There was a pause. “Well, everyone makes mistakes. Thanks for the call, Detective.”

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day, Mister Powell.”

Chapter
25

1

A few minutes after he talked to Sam Powell, Carol told Vincent that she had found Tom’s old girlfriend’s cellphone number.

“Her last name’s Meyer,” she said.

The number still belonged to Christina Meyer. Tom’s old girlfriend was thirty-two, owned a seven-year-old Toyota Camry, and currently lived in Tucson. Posing as a cold-case detective, Vincent met her later that day at her apartment.

“When was the last time you talked to Tom?” he asked.

“About a year and a half ago,” Christina said.

“What did he say?”

“Not much. He just wanted to tell me he got out of prison.”

“Did he contact you after that?”

“No.”

“Did you visit him in prison?”

Christina pushed her hair behind her ear and said, “No.”

“Do you have any idea who killed him?”

“No, I don’t.”

Vincent followed Christina for two days and then went back to Dallas.

He spent the next eight days investigating the spectators from Tom’s guilty plea hearing. There were seven of them. Luis Olivares, 40, worked for the Collin County Health Care Services Department. Caterina Schier, 25, was a journalist from The Dallas Morning News. Jordan Richter, 32, worked for an oil company. Amy Tran, 26, was a law student. James Garside, 29, worked for a bank. Reuben Harman, 30, was a salesclerk at a department store. Angus Graham, 38, worked for an IT company.

Vincent and his investigators followed each of them for three days and saw nothing suspicious. None of the spectators appeared to be involved in Annie’s kidnapping. It was another dead end.

He went through all of Tom’s credit card statements that Elizabeth had given to Carol. Five of them were for Tom’s Visa card and four for his MasterCard card. Among the charges that caught Vincent’s attention was a charge for two hundred and fifteen dollars from the Flamingo Las Vegas Hotel in Las Vegas dated March 11 of last year. As Vincent studied the March credit card statement, he became curious about a $49.99 charge from a Las Vegas business called Showtime Theater. The charge had been posted on March 10 and, considering the name of the business, must have been for a show ticket.

On July 19, driven by intuition, Vincent searched for Showtime Theater’s website, wanting to find out what show Tom Powell had seen at that venue. Showtime Theater did have a website, where one could peruse the current show schedule and purchase tickets. Located on Fremont Street in downtown Las Vegas, the theater had an eclectic lineup, which included a music revue, a magic show, and a burlesque musical. When Vincent saw the name of the show that was going to return in September, his heart began to beat faster with excitement. The show was called Phenomenal and was described as a unique hypnosis experience. The star of the show was award-winning hypnotist Devon LeRoy. The website invited prospective audience members to watch LeRoy control perfect strangers’ thoughts and actions, and promised an unforgettable comedy thrill ride. “You won’t believe what he can make them do!” the website said.

Vincent called Showtime Theater and asked if Devon LeRoy had performed in March of last year.

“Yes, he did,” said the woman on the other end of the line.

“How much was the ticket?”

“Forty-nine ninety-nine for general admission and fifty-nine ninety-nine for a VIP ticket.”

Tom Powell had gone to the Phenomenal show and met Devon LeRoy, Vincent was sure of it.

Tom might have asked LeRoy to teach him hypnotism, and LeRoy might have agreed to do it.

Could Devon LeRoy have hypnotized David Miller himself? Vincent didn’t rule that out.

Why would LeRoy have agreed to hypnotize David?

Vincent believed that all show business people were crazy to some extent, so it was possible that LeRoy had helped Tom just for shits and giggles. Maybe LeRoy had thought that hypnotizing David to confess to murdering Annie was a cool trick.

As he searched for Devon LeRoy’s address, Vincent saw an ad for his show in Houston. LeRoy was going to be in Houston until July 26 and was scheduled to perform in New York from July 30 to August 25.

Vincent decided to meet LeRoy tomorrow after a show.

2

LeRoy’s show was an hour and twenty minutes long. As soon as it ended, Vincent climbed onto the stage and caught up to the hypnotist. Devon LeRoy was a lean man in his early forties with thin lips, neatly combed dark hair, and a triangular soul patch.

“Hi, how are you doing?” Vincent said. “I loved the show.”

LeRoy glanced at him and replied, “Thank you. Do you want an autograph?”

Vincent smiled. “Yes, please.” He pulled out his notebook, opened it to a blank page, and held it out to LeRoy.

The hypnotist grabbed the notebook and asked, “Do you have a pen?”

Vincent gave him the pen, and LeRoy signed an autograph.

“Thank you. My name’s Vincent, by the way.” Vincent put his notebook back in his pocket. “Do you perform in Vegas?”

“Yes. I love Vegas. The problem is, Vegas is too hot in the summer for my taste.”

LeRoy stopped, took a key from his pants pocket, and slipped it into the lock of his dressing-room door. He gave Vincent an assessing look and then opened the door.

“I’ve got a proposition you might be interested in,” Vincent said as LeRoy entered the room. “Do you mind if I come in?”

“Please come in.”

LeRoy motioned Vincent to sit down on the small leather sofa.

“I have a friend,” Vincent said. “He has a drinking problem. A severe drinking problem. I wonder if you could hypnotize him to quit drinking. He’ll pay you a lot of money.”

“What’s wrong with a drinking problem? I think it’s a good problem to have.” LeRoy smiled.

“It’s not the worst problem, for sure. Have you ever done anything like that?”

“No. But as they say, there’s always a first time for everything.”

“Will you help my friend?”

“It’s an interesting challenge. How much is your friend willing to pay?”

“Eight thousand dollars.”

“I guess I could give it a shot. Let me think about it.”

“Thank you.”

“And your friend must understand that hypnosis doesn’t always work.”

“He understands that.”

“I think I might be able to squeeze your friend into my schedule in the next three months. Can you give me your number?”

“Sure.”

Vincent told LeRoy his phone number, and the hypnotist saved it in his cellphone.

“Do you teach hypnotism?” Vincent asked.

“I used to, a long time ago.”

“Would you consider giving lessons?”

“Do you want to become a hypnotist?”

“Yeah. I think it would be nice.”

“I don’t have time for that, I’m sorry.”

“Do you know Tom Powell?”

“No. Who is he?”

“He’s a friend of mine. He wants to become a hypnotist, too. He told me he met you in Vegas last year. Do you remember talking to him?”

LeRoy shook his head. “No.”

“He said he asked you to teach him hypnotism.”

“I must have said no.” LeRoy smiled.

3

Vincent was awakened by his cellphone. As he looked at his watch, he realized he wanted badly to go back to sleep. I wouldn’t get out of bed even if they offered me a thousand dollars, he thought.

It was 10:08 am. He was still in Houston.

Vincent picked up his phone from the nightstand. It was an unknown number. He tapped the Answer button.

“Hello,” he said.

“This is Devon LeRoy. How are you doing?”

“I’m fine. How are you?” Vincent swung his legs out of bed and sat up.

“Good. Are you still in Houston?”

“Yes.”

“I thought about your proposition and decided to accept it.”

“Thank you.”

“I’d like to discuss the details in person. Can you meet me today?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a café called Figaro a couple of blocks from my hotel. Let’s meet there at noon.”

“Okay.”

Vincent wrote down the address of the café and then hung up.

Figaro was situated on the first floor of a three-story building, between a bar and a law office. Outside it, soothing jazz was playing, a pleasant change from the traffic noise. As Vincent approached the café, he saw LeRoy sitting at a sidewalk table with a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. LeRoy waved to him and flashed a big smile.

“The weather is gorgeous, isn’t it?” LeRoy shook Vincent’s hand.

“Yes, it is.” Vincent sat down and picked up the menu.

“I hope I didn’t ruin your plans.”

“I didn’t have any plans.”

Vincent began to scan the menu. The sweet smell of pastries wafted from inside the café.

“Good. Are you staying in downtown?”

“Yes. I’m staying at Crowne Plaza.”

LeRoy took a sip from his cup. “I can see your friend in three weeks. Please ask him if he can come to New York in three weeks.”

“How much do you want him to pay you?”

“Eight thousand dollars. I’ll have four sessions with him. I believe four sessions will be enough.”

“Sounds good. I hope it works.”

“It should work.”

Vincent closed the menu and laid it on the table.

“Where does your friend live?” LeRoy asked.

“Dallas.”

“Where do you live?”

“I live in Dallas, too.”

“What’s your friend’s name?”

“Joe.”

LeRoy smiled. “Honestly, I thought you were talking about yourself when you told me about your friend with a drinking problem.”

“Do I look like an alcoholic?”

“No, not at all. I’m sorry.” Looking in Vincent’s eyes, LeRoy turned his cup in its saucer. 

“How old is Joe?”

“Thirty-five.” Vincent withdrew Tom Powell’s photo from his jacket pocket and put it on the table. “This is my friend Tom Powell. Do you recognize him?”

LeRoy looked at the picture for a long moment, then reached over and took Vincent’s hand. Staring into Vincent’s eyes, he said, “The weather is beautiful today, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

LeRoy let go of Vincent’s hand. “I want you to get up.”

Vincent rose from his chair with a vacant expression on his face. LeRoy grabbed Tom’s picture from the table and slipped it into his pants pocket.

“Sit down.”

Without saying a word, Vincent sat down. LeRoy called the waiter over and asked for the check. Then he extracted a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and winked at Vincent, who continued to be silent, staring blankly into space. When the waiter brought the check, LeRoy handed him the twenty-dollar bill and told him to keep the change. The waiter thanked the hypnotist and went inside.

LeRoy glanced at his watch, then stood up and said to Vincent, “Get up.”

When Vincent rose to his feet, the hypnotist said, “Now I want you to follow me to my car.”

LeRoy’s rental car was in a parking lot one block from Figaro. As he had expected, he had no trouble getting Vincent there: the guy followed him like a duckling follows its mother.

LeRoy unlocked his Camry, opened the front passenger door, and ordered Vincent to get in the car. Vincent did as told. LeRoy slipped behind the steering wheel and unbuttoned Vincent’s shirt. There was no microphone taped to Vincent’s chest or stomach.

“What’s your real name?” LeRoy asked as he reached into the breast pocket of Vincent’s suit coat.

“Vincent Daley.”

In the breast pocket, he found a receipt from a restaurant called Golden Phoenix. LeRoy put the receipt back in the pocket and asked, “Do you work for the government?”

“No.”

The side pockets of Vincent’s suit coat were empty.

“Are you wearing a wire?”

“No.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a private investigator.”

“Did you come here alone?”

“Yes.”

“Is anyone watching us?”

“No.”

“Are you wearing a tracking device?”

“No.”

“Very good. Give me your cellphone.”

Vincent withdrew his cell and handed it to LeRoy.

“We’re going for a ride.” LeRoy removed the back cover of the phone and pulled out the battery. Then he dropped the battery in the center console and said, “When I count to three, you will fall asleep. One. Two. Three.”

Vincent shut his eyes.

LeRoy folded his hands in his lap and remained in this position for half a minute, deciding whether or not to proceed with the plan.