My Wife Is Missing(104)

“He can’t even organize his sock drawer,” Natalie tossed out.

Kennett couldn’t suppress a laugh.

“So what then?” she asked. “No wire. What’s your ask?”

“I want you to get a confession. We have evidence that Michael had been in contact with Audrey, communications suggesting he was concerned about certain things coming to light. It’s some evidence, but not enough. I need his confession. Talk to him. Tell him that you love him. That you want to keep your family together, make it work.”

“But he’s a murderer.”

“He killed Audrey to guard his secret, to protect you and the kids, the life you have together. You’re going to tell him that you know what he did, and that while you’re horrified by his crime, you understand why he did it. All you want is the truth so that you can move forward as a family again. As for your arrest, we’re going to drop the charges against you—the story here is that your lawyer found errors with your arrest warrant. As a result, a judge is going to order your immediate release. You’ll tell Michael you want to see him. Tell him almost losing it all has made you rethink your life. Now that you’re better rested, you’ve had a change of heart about the marriage, even though you know he killed Audrey Adler.”

Natalie silently mulled the offer over.

“Let me give this some thought. I think I can do better than that,” she eventually said.

“Okay, well, I hope so. There are no other suspects. He’s our guy and you’re going to help us get him.”

“And where will you be when all this is taking place?”

“Outside your house, waiting. You’ll turn a light on and off two times and that’ll be our signal to move. We’ll come in, arrest him, and you can get on with your life. We’ll want you of course to be a witness at trial.”

“I’ll think it over,” said Natalie, even though she’d already decided.

“I appreciate it,” said Kennett, who, judging by the slight twinkle in his eyes, might have been a mind reader. “One other thing, Natalie, if I may. If you do agree to help, and I hope that you will, we’d like to find out where Michael hid the murder weapon.”

“If I agree to participate, I’ll do my best to help you find it,” she said.

Natalie was also thinking of a different weapon, one used to murder Brianna Sykes. She’d give that knife to the police as well, but not before it served another purpose, one directly connected to her newly formed plan to get Michael out of her life forever.





CHAPTER 43





MICHAEL


He stood outside his house, unsure of what to do. Should he ring the bell or march right in? In the past, it wouldn’t have been a question. The new normal, however, meant new norms that hadn’t yet been established. His finger hovered near the button while another thought scuttled about in his head.

Where are the reporters?

He had expected a gauntlet of them to be camped on the front lawn, covering Natalie’s surprise release after the charges against her were dropped. She got off on a technicality was all she told him on the phone. Perhaps that news hadn’t yet made it to the media. It was the only logical explanation as to why his street held the same quiet stillness it always had.

He moved his hand from the doorbell to the doorknob after deciding he’d walk in as if these were normal times. From down the hall came the melodious sounds of soft jazz played through the Sonos speakers—a system he had configured years ago that was no longer his to enjoy. This place he once thought of as being home now seemed alien. The kids weren’t around to greet him, which added to the strangeness. They were still staying with Harvey and Lucinda. Tonight marked Natalie’s first time back in the house since they left for New York.

As he moved down the hallway, past the framed photos and artwork, Michael suffered again from that odd feeling of disassociation, as though he were a stranger marching through a strange land.

“In here, Michael,” he heard Natalie call out to him.

Michael found his wife standing at the kitchen island, sipping red wine from one of their fancier glasses, looking gorgeous in jeans and a light-colored sweater. She’d let her dark hair down so that the wavy curls bounced gently off her shoulders in an alluring way. On the floor nearby were the red-soled shoes, the ones that she’d kept in the shoebox where he’d found the hidden note.

“Let me pour you some wine,” Natalie said.

“Why are those out?” Michael asked, indicating the shoes.

Natalie’s gaze went to them and back again.

“Oh, those,” she said dismissively. “I was going to get dressed up, wear that black dress to go with these shoes, soften you up a bit, but … I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

“Soften me up for what?” Michael asked, curious.

“Later. Wine first,” she said.

The lights. The music. The dress and shoes.

What was she trying to get out of him? Michael wondered where the anger was, her rage. What had changed in a day?

Against his better judgment, he allowed for a ray of hope to enter his heart. He didn’t know why Natalie had asked to see him on short notice, she wouldn’t say on the phone, but now that he was here he was wondering. Did she have designs on repairing their rift? Could his family be put back together in a new and different way?