Fatal Friends, Deadly Neighbors (56 page)

NO ONE KNOWS WHERE WENDY IS

Wendy Ann Smith seemed to vanish instantly in the dusk of a summer day. She was only nine years old, and she still trusted almost everyone. (
Police file
)

Anne Marie Burr vanished from her home in Tacoma, Washington, in 1963. Investigators who were searching for Wendy remembered her. She has never been found, and the circumstances of her disappearance were very similar to Wendy Ann’s. Tacoma is close to the U.S. Army’s Fort Lewis. (
Police file
)

This young man was one of the most helpful in Wendy Ann’s family’s neighborhood when search parties were formed to look for her. He was so eager to assist that he sometimes got in the way, being always underfoot. (
Police file
)

Acknowledgments

With every book I write, I am aware of how important it is that people involved—either directly or by unpredictable chance—share their stories and feelings with me. And I so appreciate that they do! Eighty-five percent of my time, I am writing a book and it can be lonely; writing has to be a solitary pastime. But not always an isolated one. So when I thank people who help me, they range from investigators, prosecutors, survivors and their families, my own family, friends, editors and agents, and unexpected tipsters who share important confidences.

Each book—and this is number thirty-three—is a microcosm of my life, opening and closing as the pages begin and end. A trial is the same. There are several people I mention in every book because, God bless them, they are always there for me.

Gerry Hay, Shirley Hickman, Donna Anders, Carol Lovall, Barb Thompson, Kate Jewell, Kathleen Huget, Cindy Wilkinson, Anne Jaeger, the courageous volunteers and staff at Family and Friends of Violent Crime Victims and Missing Persons, The Jolly Matrons—friends since college—Barbara Easton, Eilene Schultz, and all the ARFs (Ann Rule Fans).

Anne Bremner, Misty Scott, Chuck and Judy Cox, Anne Cox, Mary, Denise, and Marie Cox, Pam Cox, Laurie Nielsen and Jennifer Powell Graves. Ed Troyer, Paul Pastor, Mark Lindquist, Gary Sanders, Lynette Smith, Brad Owen, Steve Gonzales, Ben Benson, Denny Wood, and Steve Downing. Mary and Doug Loehner, Cyril and Ben Wecht, and Dawna Kaufmann.

Laura, Rebecca, Miya, Amari, and Matt Harris. Leslie and Glenn Scott, Andy Rule and Lindsey Galand, Mike, Marie, Holland, and Grey Michael Rule, Bruce, Machel, Olivia, Tyra and Logan Sherles, and Pat and new baby girl Cara Jean Kelly.

When I wrote my last book, I had Waters & Wood construction crews demolishing and rebuilding over my head and under my feet, but as long as they didn’t cut off my power, I wrote. That was true of this book, too. Some talented and hardy folks built me another wing, sloshing through wind and rain to do it, and it gives me much more room to breathe—and write. In no particular order to an outstanding group effort: Mark T. Brooks, Ray Delduca, Mike Hughes, Debby Royce, Mike Aromin, Jeff Keehr, Lee Barnhart, Tim Haisch, Mark Kerkoff, Bobbie Fritcher, Ty Pendergraft, Jamie Carter, Francisco Diaz, Brian Franchini, Amy Olsen, Dave Mehl, Kristi Roberson, Eric Hamilton, Don Wilde, Michele Healy, Joy Mitchell, Tim Miller, John Edwards, Dave Myers, Kyle Carbary, Jose Perez, Christopher Timpson, Kevyn Boudreau, Jeff Cundiff, Esteban Flores, and project manager/problem solver—always—Bryce Salzman.

I am a lucky woman indeed to have the backup of my lifetime agents, Joan and Joe Foley,
and
my publishing team at Pocket Books and Free Press, who have nudged me patiently to the finish line of thirty-three books! I have learned so much from all of them: Louise Burke and Martha Levin, my truly supportive publishers; Mitchell Ivers, my brilliant and tactful editor, and his assistant, Natasha Simons, who always comes through when we’re on deadline; and my attorney Felice Javit. Production manager Hector Rodriguez Jr., production editor Christine Masters, managing editor Sally Franklin, copyeditor Tom Pitoniak, proofreaders Polly Watson and Annette Szlachta, art director Lisa Litwack, and book designer Kyle Kabel.

Seattle is a long way from New York City but it feels as though my friends at Simon & Schuster are just the next block over.

And, finally, my writing pets: Willow, the Bernese mountain dog, and Toonces, K.C., and Poppy, the very intelligent cats. They all gather around me when I work, and they’re good company but somewhat intrusive as they step on the keyboard of my computer.

Free Press Proudly Presents

Practice to Deceive

Ann Rule

Coming in hardcover October 2013

Turn the page for a sneak peek at
Practice to Deceive . . .

Chapter One

This story of murder has as many facets as an intricately cut diamond, far too many to be believable. Certainly it could not pass as fiction; it would come across as contrived. As fact—which it is—it is a murky sea of reality and involving myriad characters that seem larger than life. And they are infinitely different from one another in personalities, lifestyles, and possible motivations. I wonder if their machinations can be reconstructed here in any orderly fashion.

Where do I jump in and build a foundation of sentences and paragraphs strong enough to bear the weight of everything that must be told? There are no locks that my writer’s keys will open easily, just as there are few threads that might be woven into a pattern that makes sense.

The denouement of this case took a decade. Even now, there may be shadowy corners where secrets still hide. All along, we knew that someone had died a violent death in one of the most tranquil spots imaginable. But
why
was this particular human being singled out for death? That question was much more difficult to answer.

In the sixties, a group of authors joined together to write a book. It was a rather silly book in which each writer penned a chapter and new additions didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the story line that came before. The provocative cover drew potential book buyers, and
Naked Came the Stranger
was a bizarre bestseller.

Some years later, a dozen or so Seattle bestselling authors started a writers’ social group called the Bitch and Moan Society. It was a setting to air out our disappointments, complaints, and anxieties about our profession. Eventually, we decided to write a book similar to
Naked Came the Stranger
, in which we took turns writing. Our manuscript,
Deadly Obsession, Possession, and Depression Revisited
, was packed with implausible plots and wacky characters. A reader could start at the beginning, the end, or the middle and none of it fit together, which isn’t surprising because we wrote in so many different genres: romance, horror, military espionage, teenage love stories, humor, and historical sagas. We never intended to publish it, which is just as well.

And we always agreed to “put the action on an island!”

In many ways,
Practice to Deceive
has challenged me to cover a murderous plot with players as diverse as our mythical
Deadly Obsession
etc.

And, ironically, this true story also took place on an island.

PRACTICE TO
DECEIVE

Whidbey Island, Washington, is one of the largest islands in America, a vacation spot for some, home to sixty thousand residents, and a duty station for naval personnel. Ferries and the Deception Pass Bridge allow visitors and residents alike access to the idyllic body of land that floats between Puget Sound, Possession Sound, Skagit Bay, and the Saratoga Passage west of Washington State’s shores.

Whidbey is a study in contrasts. The sprawling Naval Air Station Whidbey Island is in the town of Oak Harbor at the northern tip of the thirty-five-mile-long island. It is the premier naval aviation installation in the Pacific Northwest and the home of all electronic attack squadrons flying the EA-6B Prowler and the EA-18G Growler. It is also home to four P-3 Orion Maritime Patrol Aviation squadrons and two Fleet Air Reconnaissance squadrons that fly the EP-3E Aries.

Farther south, there are smaller towns: Coupeville—the Island County seat—Keystone, Greenbank, Langley, Freeland, and Clinton. Although supermarkets and a few malls have opened in the last several years, much of Whidbey Island is composed of bucolic pastures, evergreen forests, small towns, and a good number of lavish waterfront estates built by people from the mainland.

From some locations, there are views of Seattle rising out of a fog-smudged mist, but mostly Whidbey Island is a place to get away from the stresses of city life.

A number of high school graduates move off-island as they search for a quicker-paced world, but they almost always come back for reunions and holidays to catch up with family and old friends.

There isn’t a lot of crime on Whidbey; bank robbers prefer spots where they don’t have to wait for a ferry to make a clean getaway. There are, of course, some sex crimes, and a murder from time to time. Whidbey isn’t Utopia, but it comes closer than most places.

There are also gossip-active chains of communication, common to any small town, and illicit liaisons seldom remain secret for long.

During the Christmas holidays in 2003, the chains were buzzing. One about-to-be-divorced man came back to Whidbey Island and moved in with his estranged wife and children. Their reunion, if not passionate, was at least amicable during the time he was there.

The woman who was divorcing him seemed to be an average young woman who owned a beauty shop. She and their children were also the beneficiaries of high-dollar-amount insurance policies.

And then there was a charismatic man who had grown up on Whidbey. He returned for the Christmas festivities with his mistress, leaving his legal wife on the other side of the country. Apparently there were no hard feelings; the two women became friends. He was a talented—if racy—musician who once headed a band called Buck Naked and the Exhibitionists, and he kept his long hair pulled back in a ponytail long after the trend went out of fashion.

Authors often call mistresses “beautiful,” but the guitar player’s statuesque companion truly was. She resembled actress Maureen O’Hara combined with former Miss America Bess Myerson. Tall and with flaming red hair, she was Ms. Washington in 2000 and a leading contestant in an international pageant held in Las Vegas. She was divorced from a millionaire thoroughbred trainer whose horse had recently won the Kentucky Derby.

And
his
father was involved in a shocking political scandal in Alaska, a series of events that brought down a much-revered, longtime senator.

The beauty queen’s life had been scarred by a number of tragedies and mysterious deaths, but she had always been able to bounce back and keep going.

There was a man in Florida who knew too much, and a retired cop in another state who sometimes wondered if “Buck Naked” was telling him the truth or weaving a fascinating lie.

At three o’clock on a stormy afternoon two days after Christmas, one of them would be dead. It was a murder so unexpected that Whidbey Island residents were frightened, wondering who might be next.