Jonathan Kellerman - Self-Defence

"I was hoping someone from the outside could see clearer. Barnard was slow. Very easygoing. All of Malibu seemed that way, people smiling but moving very slowly. I'd never been to California, wasn't used to it."

"When did you move out here?"

"Two years later. Permanently, that is. Before that, I was coming out every two months for a couple of weeks at a time. I stayed in motels or lived in a rented car, driving up and down the coast every day, from Manhattan Beach to Santa Barbara. Once I went as far north as San Simeon. Every canyon or state park I'd pass, I'd drive through, walk around, talking to the rangers, ground crews, campers, anyone. It became my job. My business suffered. Then Mrs. Best developed an aneurysm and died and I sold what was left of the business and came here to settle. Craig and Taffy were starting out, and I let them live in the house. A few years later, they bought it. It was a good time for me to leave- they needed their own life and I wanted to devote myself to looking for Karen. I spent ten hours a day in the car. Hoping one day I'd run into her somewhere. Maybe she'd lost her memory and was… somewhere."

He pushed the cookies away. "What does your witness remember?"

"Just what I told you, Reverend."

"A young girl being carried away by some men. That's vague."

"Yes, it is, and I'm sorry I can't promise you it means anything."

I tried to return the data sheet.

"No, that's a copy. Take it, I've got plenty."

I folded it and put it in my pocket.

"A young girl," he said. "Long dark hair, long legs- when Karen was a little girl we used to call her Storkie. For Stork. Where does your witness- is it a man or a woman?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

He frowned. "Where does this witness think this abduction occurred?"

"Some sort of rustic site. Maybe a log cabin. Trees all around."

He pressed his belly against the table edge. "You're a police psychologist. You could hypnotize this person, couldn't you? That helps with memory."

"That's a possibility."

"Why not a probability?"

"The witness is in a fragile state of mind."

"How fragile?"

"I'm sorry, I can't say any more."

"Yes, yes, of course, sorry… but you are going to follow up."

"I'll do whatever I can, Reverend."

"You work for the police department?"

"I'm a private consultant. The witness is a patient of mine. A police detective is aware of what I'm doing, but it's not official yet."

The bulging eyes narrowed. "Why are you going to all this trouble?"

"To help my patient."

He looked at me for a long time.

"You're a devoted fellow."

I shrugged.

He fiddled with his glasses, looked at his coffee, but didn't touch it.

"I highly advise that you find some way to talk to Gwen and Tom Shea. On the sheet she's listed by her maiden name, Peet, but they're married now. They worked with Karen at the Sand Dollar. Worked with her that last shift. I've always felt they knew more than they let on."

"Why's that?"

"The way they acted when I spoke to them- shifty, nervous. Felix Barnard said they seemed innocent to him. So did the sheriffs. They were both local kids, good reputations, neither had any sort of criminal record. But I'll tell you one thing: When I asked them about Karen, they couldn't look me in the eye. They'd been friends with her; Gwen waited tables, Tom tended bar. Why would talking about her make them uncomfortable? And they left the restaurant just a few minutes after Karen did. Karen was walking, but they were in a car. Doesn't it make sense that they would have overtaken her?"

"Maybe someone picked her up."

"Who would she have allowed to pick her up? She wasn't dating anyone, had no close friends. And she never would have hitchhiked. We talked about that before she left Massachusetts."

His voice remained low, but his eyes bulged even more and the ridges in his forehead were wet.

"I'm sure they're hiding something. I know what guilt looks like."

I pulled the paper out of my jacket, unfolded it, and circled the two names.

"I kept going back to them," said Best, "offered them money- the last of my cash before I started selling off the stocks and bonds. They wouldn't even talk to me. Finally Tom called the sheriff, complained I was harassing them. I returned a few days later anyway, wanting to catch Gwen alone. She wouldn't open the door, and the next day Tom came to my motel and threatened to beat me up if I didn't leave them alone."

"Was that the end of it?"

He sighed. "I did drive by their house, once or twice a week. Then they upped and left- moved out of Malibu. If that isn't guilt, I don't know what is. I called up the restaurant, pretending to be a friend, and was told they'd gone to Aspen. But they've been back in Malibu for over sixteen years. Own a place called Shooting the Curl- surfing supplies shop, near the pier. Doing very well, I might add. Tom drives one of those BMWs and Gwen has a fancy van."

"You still drive by."

"Only once a year, Dr. Delaware. On the anniversary of Karen's disappearance."

"Do you do anything else?"

"Do I try to talk to them? No, what would be the use? For me, it's a day of reflection. I drive from Santa Monica to Santa Barbara. If I see a homeless person, I stop and give them food. Sometimes I pull over at a campsite, but I don't talk to anyone or show Karen's picture. What would be the sense showing the picture of a nineteen-year-old girl?"

He looked down. Hooked his fingers under his glasses and rubbed his eyes again. "She's almost forty by now, but I still think of her as nineteen… Don't worry, doctor, I don't bother the Sheas. Whatever they did, they have to live with. And they have their own troubles now: a crippled child. Maybe one day they'll come to see that Providence and Fate emanate from the same place. When you approach them, don't mention my name, I'm sure they think of me as a raving lunatic."

"How long was Karen out in California before she disappeared?"

"Five months."

"How often did she write?"

"She never wrote. She phoned. Always on Sunday, and sometimes on Wednesday and Friday. That's why we were alarmed that first Sunday. She was like clockwork when it came to those Sunday phone calls. We phoned the restaurant, and they said she hadn't shown up for work."

"I assume she never said anything on a previous call that hinted at her disappearance."

"Nothing. She was happy, enjoying the weather, enjoying her job, everything was fine. She was trying to earn enough money to enroll in acting school."

"Did she say which school?"

"No, it never got that far."

"How did you feel about her becoming an actress?"

"We didn't really think she'd become one. We thought she'd try awhile and come back, go to college, meet someone nice."

His lip quivered.

"My wife took most of the calls. I was usually at the store. After Karen disappeared, I grew to hate the store. Gave it to Craig, but he sold it and got a job with the state. Building and Safety. After I moved here, my first year was taken up completely by looking for Karen. The second year too, but nothing was turning up. I had time on my hands and started to read the Bible. Till then I wasn't a religious man- I'd gone to church but I thought about profits and losses while pretending to worship. This time, the Bible started to mean something to me. I found a seminary in Eagle Rock and enrolled. Got ordained five years later and started the church. Do you know what we do?"

"Distribute food to poor people."

"To anyone, we don't ask questions. No one gets paid. I live off my Social Security and the few bonds I have left, and the others are all volunteers. Restaurants donate the food. It's a good life. I only wish Karen were here to see it."