My Wife Is Missing(100)
Michael hadn’t slept much since her shocking arrest, catching an hour or so on the flight back to Logan, Addie and Bryce seated on either side of him. Natalie, accompanied by two U.S. Marshals, her handcuffs concealed by a coat draped over her wrists, was placed in the back of the plane, along with Kennett.
Natalie’s parents, Harvey and Lucinda, met Michael at the airport upon their arrival. It was Kennett’s suggestion that the children remain away from the family home for a few nights, because reporters might catch wind of the arrest and make a scene that could leave a lasting impression on impressionable young minds. Michael readily agreed, and that was the last conversation he and Kennett shared.
The cat-and-mouse game Michael had thought he and the detective had been playing wasn’t a game at all. Michael was never the target. Kennett knew who Michael was, of course he did, but now, in the aftermath, it was all quite clear—
Kennett had been after his wife from the start. His involvement in the case outside his jurisdiction made sense for someone with a long memory for justice. No way would he allow the murder of two Sykes women to go unsolved.
According to reports from Lucinda, the children were both distraught. Poor Bryce even wet the bed, something he’d outgrown years ago. At least his son finally had his teddy bear to comfort him. Michael told himself they were young, resilient, and they’d bounce back from all this, but in nearly the same breath, he could envision the road ahead, and his hopes would dim.
At last Natalie entered the room, led by an armed police escort. She looked utterly drained, a ghostly apparition, her eyes more sunken and darkly ringed than ever. She’d fought her sleep condition with a prizefighter’s vigor, but in this gray setting she appeared as fragile as a porcelain doll. His heart ached for her. He felt deeply protective as he battled an urge to hoist up his chair and use it to shatter the glass separating them, pulling her to safety—or at least into his arms.
He found himself struggling to make sense of it all. She seemed utterly lost and confused, and he felt so unable to help. He pressed his hand up against the glass, fingers spread out wide, before picking up the wall-mounted phone to his right. Natalie didn’t budge until Michael pointed to the phone on her side of the partition. His unblinking gaze watched her every move as she hesitantly lifted the receiver. She seemed to be in some sort of a trance, here with him in body only. She put the phone to her ear, saying nothing. Michael couldn’t even hear the sound of her breath.
“Hey babe,” he said eventually, his voice choked with emotion. He brandished something of a smile, hoping Natalie would put her hand to the glass to meet his, but hers remained fisted on the narrow counter running along the lip of the window.
There was nothing in her eyes, just icy detachment.
“How are you?” Michael asked.
She gave no response.
“The children are asking for you, of course they are.”
Michael felt a twinge of apprehension, expecting that the mere mention of them would uncork whatever emotions Natalie had bottled up, but she sat like she might for a portrait, her hard stare boring into him.
“You haven’t been sleeping, you … you haven’t been yourself,” he said in a whispered voice, even though he knew this conversation was being recorded. “We need to talk to some experts, get their opinion, it could be you didn’t know what you were doing and—”
“Three things,” said Natalie coarsely, though her expression remained quite controlled.
“What?” Michael screwed up his face in a show of confusion.
“Three things,” she repeated into the phone. “That’s our family game, right? So let’s play.”
“Nat, I don’t think now is the time.”
“I think it’s the perfect time,” she spat back in a clipped tone. “So let’s play … Michael. How about you go first. Three things. What are yours?”
The way she said his name with such venom made him recoil. Michael fixed his wife with a curious stare, but he could see her resolve was firm. There’d be no talking to her until she got her way.
“Okay, then,” he said, as he ran a free hand through his thick brown hair and then across the stubble dotting his chin. He hadn’t shaved, hadn’t slept, and no doubt he looked as bone-tired to Natalie as she did to him, but he was with it enough to engage.
“Three things,” he said, needing a moment to remember the categories. “What went well today is that I got to see you. I got to set my eyes on you and know that you’re all right.”
“And what are you grateful for?” asked Natalie in a chillingly robotic voice.
“That you’re unhurt,” Michael said. “That our children our fine. That we found you before something happened to any of you. If it did—Nat, honey, I wouldn’t recover. I love you so much it hurts. I can’t bear to think of anything bad happening to you or the kids. I love you with everything that I am and that I have. I’m here for you and I’ll stay by your side, no matter what. You haven’t been sleeping, you can’t be responsible for what happened to Audrey.”
“Three things,” Natalie said, still without a drop of emotion in her voice. “That’s only two. You’ve one to go.”
“Something I wish I’d done differently,” Michael said, remembering the category. He gazed down at his hands as he thought how to answer.