Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

There’s a knock on the door.

“Excuse me, so sorry to interrupt. I’m Deputy Vogul.”

I look up to inspect what I’m up against and see Deputy Vogul is… a woman. OK, not the big macho deputy I was imagining but that doesn’t mean she’s not about to make my life miserable.

“Hi there, are you Andrew’s parents?” My parents nod. “What a tragic thing that’s happened. I want you to know you have my deepest sympathy. I can’t imagine what you must be going through.”

“Oh, well thank you,” my mother says.

“I hate to do this, but I need a couple minutes with your son. The media is going nuts over this. I just need to ask Andrew a few quick questions so I can get these vultures to go away. I promise I’ll make it as brief as possible. We both know Andrew’s gone through a lot.” Deputy Vogul’s attention turns toward me. “Is that OK with you Andrew? Can I ask you a few questions?”

“Sure, of course,” I say but don’t really mean. Deputy Vogul seems nice on the outside, but let’s see what she’s really like when it’s just her and me with the door shut.

She walks my parents out with a big smile on her face, and closes the door behind them.

“Andrew. Andrew. Andrew. How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I say.

“I know it’s just awful, Andrew. Have you had a chance to see your wife yet?”

“No not yet.”

“Oh, I do apologize. I hope she’s all right. I know you’re probably exhausted so I’ll get straight to it. What can you tell me about that day? Did you speak with the kidnapper?”

“No.”

“Then how did you know where to go?”

As friendly as Deputy Vogul seems to be, I want to tell her as little as possible. Abby’s phone call is something I know I can’t lie about, though. At the very least, police are able to track and see she called me. They may even have a tape of the recording.

“She called me and told me where she was. It’s somewhere her and I go frequently when we want to get away.”

“I see, and what happened when you got there?” I’m glad she doesn’t ask why I didn’t call the police first.

“She was in a huge hole. The kidnapper came from behind and pushed me into it, then I grabbed him as I was falling and pulled him in with me.”

Deputy Vogul, surprised by my answer, pauses and thinks before asking her next question.

“So, let me get this straight. The kidnapper pushed you, and then you grabbed him. Then, you both fell into a hole, and then you don’t remember anything after that. Is that what you’re telling me happened?”

“Yes,” I say. “That IS what happened.”

“Interesting story, Andrew. Very interesting. There’s just one little problem, though. There weren’t three people in the hole when we got there. Only one person, your wife.”

“Wait, what?” I say with disbelief. “That can’t be. I’m not lying to you. That’s what happened.”

She proceeds cautiously, “Andrew, that may be what you think happened. I’ve seen it before; traumatic circumstances can play strange tricks on the memory. There’s no way your story can be true, though. You were sitting by a tree when we got there.”

“Sitting by a tree? That can’t be. I remember falling. Falling down that hole with the kidnapper falling down with me.”

“Did the kidnapper have any marks on him? Any scratches or injuries?” she asks.

“Well, I didn’t really have a lot of time to look at him. It happened so fast. The last thing I remember is hitting the ground.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?” she asks.

I only saw him for a second, but I remember what he looks like quite well. I know he has black hair, stands around 5′10″, scrawny guy. I remember he was very hairy, his arms and legs were covered in thick, black hair. How do I know so much about what he looks like?

“I… uh… don’t remember anything.” Why do I have to be such a terrible liar? I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

“Interesting, Andrew. Very interesting,” says Deputy Vogul. “I’m sorry again though, Andrew. I think you remember more about what he looked like than that. Why aren’t you telling me the truth? I’m here to help you.”

“I’m not lying,” I shout. “I was there and this is what I remember happening. Why don’t you believe that?”

In a triumphant manner, Deputy Vogul pulls out a set of pictures from a binder she’s holding. My jaw hits the floor.

The first picture Deputy Vogul shows me is an image of me lying up against a tree. That isn’t what has me in disbelief. The shocking part is that in my right hand I’m holding the ax I bought — only it’s covered in blood. In fact, my shirt is splattered with blood also. I try to have some sort of response, but nothing comes out. Deputy Vogul breaks the silence.

“That was where we found you, Andrew. This is where we found Mr. Jones, Abby’s kidnapper.” She places another picture in front of me. The picture is of the kidnapper, at least from what I can tell. His body is completely mutilated from what looks like several crushing blows from an ax.

It doesn’t take a genius to put this together — bloody ax and clothes on me, dead mutilated body nearby. My God, what have I done? How can this be? I don’t remember any of this. While I get memory bursts here and there, this time I draw a blank. I remember falling down that hole and grabbing this Zach guy on the way down. Did I make all of that up in my head? Did I not want to face the truth?

“I… uhh,” this is all I can say. What is there to say? I’m sure there’s more than enough evidence to prove I did this. Am I going to go to jail for life for something I don’t even remember doing? Deputy Vogul seems to have read my mind and breaks the silence again.

“Andrew, I can tell this is quite shocking to you and that you don’t remember this happening. Is that correct?”

“I don’t remember this happening at all!” I blurt out. I’m not sure if I should have admitted this, but before I can think it through, Deputy Vogul continues.

“I want you to know again Andrew I’m on your side. I can’t imagine what it must be like to find out your wife has been kidnapped. I have two kids, and if I found out a kidnapper took them I would have done the same thing you did, maybe worse.” She gives off a half smile. “I’m going to try to help you, but you have to trust me. I think your situation deals with a case I’ve been working on for over ten years now and I get a feeling you could be a real breakthrough in solving it. It’s for this reason I’m going to help you out Andrew, so listen carefully and do exactly as I say.”

She looks into my eyes, as if to tell me to pay very close attention to every word.

“Andrew, I’d like to make some small modifications to what you think happened. I have some evidence that may prove your innocence, but if you use your current story we could be in trouble. Does that sound all right?” she asks.

“Yeah, sure,” I say, very interested in what she’s going to say next.

“Everything you said about getting the phone call and going to the reservoir you can keep the same. You also need to keep the bit about you going and getting an ax first, because we already have testimony from the storeowner that you bought it. That whole story about you falling down in the hole with Zach obviously has to go, but I don’t want you to say you don’t remember anything. What you do remember is looking down in that hole and then, before you could turn around, someone came up behind you and put something over your mouth. Next thing you knew, you were in the hospital.” She pauses for a second to let me digest the story. “If anyone asks you to provide any details about the attacker, you tell them you know nothing. You couldn’t tell if they were male or female, tall or short, or if their skin was brown or blue. All you know is someone put some kind of rag over your face and you don’t remember anything else. Got it?”