Trespassing(26)

“It wasn’t his car, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Just the plates. According to the secretary of state and I-Pass records, your husband drives a Chevy Impala.”

“Yes.”

“Dark blue.”

“Yes.”

“And these are his plates?” He slides an eight-by-ten color photograph across the table at me. It accumulates Oreo crumbs on its journey.

“Yes.” Even though the picture is a close-up of the license plate, I can tell it’s not on Micah’s car but on a bronze-colored vehicle. I frown.

“The plates were on a gold Honda Civic, reported stolen yesterday.” He slaps another photograph onto the table, one of the entire car bearing Micah’s vanity plates: I FLY 3. “We’re searching for the Civic’s plates, hoping when we find them, they’ll be on your husband’s car. So far, it hasn’t been found in any parking lot in any airport in northern Illinois, southern Wisconsin, or northwest Indiana. Ground crews recognize his picture, or at least his name, but they haven’t seen him in some time.”

“So are you telling me—”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Guidry says. “I wish I had something to give you.”

Bella’s voice carries from the great room: “That’s mean, Nini! Take it back!”

Guidry looks over his shoulder.

“Fighting with her imaginary friend,” I explain.

He returns his corpselike stare to me. “I’d like to go to the press to get the word out.” The detective gathers his photos. “Maybe someone out there knows something that can help us. Someone might’ve seen something. Sometimes it’s a seemingly innocuous detail that blows a case wide open.”

“Yes. It makes sense, I guess.”

“The press can be especially cruel with spouses in this sort of situation. They may start hounding you with questions.”

“I’ll answer them. I have nothing to hide.”

“Mommy!” Bella screeches. “Nini’s glad Daddy’s gone! She says she’d rather be at God Land, too.”

I’m on my feet now, and my daughter propels herself toward me and catapults into my arms.

Her tears dampen my shoulder. “She needs a time-out!”

“I think she does.” I cradle Bella against me, feel her soft warmth. I resume my seat, rocking her like I did when she was a newborn. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’ll come back.”

The detective shifts his gaze from Bella to me. “No charges have gone through on his I-Pass. Which means he stayed off the toll roads or removed the transponder from his car and paid the tolls in cash. We can’t trace his route that morning, but we’re looking into his past records. Studying his patterns, so we can approximate where he might’ve gone, what roads he might’ve taken to get there.”

“Do you have a picture of the plane that was found? What was, you know, left?” I can’t say the word. I can’t say remains.

“Yes.” But he doesn’t pull it from his file.

“Can I see it?”

He reaches into his coat pocket and produces his cell phone. Soon, the picture fills the screen: a mangled mass of metal bobbing in the silvery waters of the Atlantic.

My breath catches in my throat. I have no idea if it’s Micah’s plane. I’d have no idea if it were a commercial jetliner or scrap metal, for that matter. “Were there . . . you know . . . any bodies inside?”

He’s shaking his head. “I haven’t seen the report.”

“Is that the water where the plane is?” Bella points to the screen.

“Yes,” I say over a sob.

“And over here . . .” She waves a hand to the right. “Here is where the big house is. At God Land.”

The detective squints.

A chill darts through me, like ice water in my veins.

“Elizabella,” Guidry says. “Do you know where your father is?”

“Nini says he’s at God Land.”

“That’s what your mother told you?”

“I didn’t say—”

Bella interrupts me. “Not Mommy. Nini.” She’s using her frustrated tone. “The girl who lives in my hair.”

“Okay. The girl who lives in your hair,” Guidry says. “Does your mommy know where your daddy is?”

“Uh-huh.”

“No, baby.” I tighten my grip on my girl. “I don’t.” But somehow Nini drew a picture of the plane crash days before it happened.

“She knows?” The detective glances at me but quickly turns back to my daughter. “Your mommy knows where Daddy is?”

“No,” I say again.

“I told you,” Elizabella says over her shoulder to me. Then to Guidry: “I told her. God Land.”

“His mother seems to think she means God’s country. They have a house on Plum Lake in Wisconsin—”

“What town?”

“I don’t know. Just north of Minocqua. Maybe you could ask the police up there—”

“What’s the address of the lake house?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been there. But it’s on Plum Lake.” There can’t be more than one Plum Lake in the northern woods, and there can’t be too many properties deeded to Micah Cavanaugh Senior. If Guidry is any kind of detective, he’ll find it easily.