My Wife Is Missing(12)

Kennett offered a shrug in return.

“I’m not a lawyer, Michael,” he said. “Can’t really advise you on what to do here. But I do know the laws around kidnapping pretty well, and I don’t believe your wife has broken any of them.”

“Until there is a court order changing the circumstance, both you and your wife enjoy equal rights to the care, custody, and control of your kids,” Ouyang added.

Michael was sure he misheard.

“I don’t think I follow,” he said. His voice shook. “She can just … what? Up and leave me … with my children? Just take off like that?”

Ouyang did up a button on her blazer. Time to go.

“All I can tell you, Michael, is that right now you need a lawyer, not a detective.”

She handed him her card.

“But if you need me for anything, feel free to call my cell. The number is on here.”

Kennett slipped on his blazer, did up a button as well.

“Same goes for me, Mike,” he said, handing over one of his cards. He plastered on a phony smile.

“I don’t get it,” Michael said to Kennett. “Detective Ouyang must have told you what was going on. Why did you bother coming here if you knew you couldn’t help? Why get my hopes up like that?”

“Because this whole thing is kind of strange, Mike,” Kennett said somewhat brusquely. “Even if your wife didn’t break the law, at least not yet, it’s unusual what’s happened here, and it’s good for detectives to team up when things take a surprising turn. Less chance of us missing something important. But right now, we don’t have much to go on. Unless you’ve got something else you’d like to share with us. Do you, Mike? Have something else to share?”

Michael became acutely aware of his closed-off body language, and uncrossed his arms. Did he look shifty and uncertain? Was that the vibe he was giving off? These detectives had enough skills and resources to make things extremely complicated for him.

“I don’t have anything else to tell you that you don’t already know,” said Michael.

Kennett’s slim smile said: I don’t believe you.

“Very well, Mike. We have pictures, better than descriptions. We’ll keep a lookout and be in touch if we get any leads. We’re happy to help you file a missing persons report, too. Though you should do that with your hometown police. Most police departments want you to wait twenty-four hours before filing, but I can make a call, push that along if need be.”

“Why the waiting period?”

“Usually missing persons turn up, often it’s a miscommunication or a fight, and so police try to cut down on needless paperwork.”

Kennett didn’t project much confidence that Michael’s case would be of the sort-itself-out variety.

“Can I ask a favor of you before you go?” Michael said to Kennett.

“Sure, Mike. We’re here to serve.”

Subtext: I still think you’re hiding something.

“Can you tell me the name of the car company my wife used to leave the hotel? You saw the license plate in the video. You could run it for me.”

Ouyang didn’t look ready to jump in and offer her assistance. Michael pressed his case.

“Look, I can pay an internet service to get the info. Or hire a PI. Whatever. One way or another I’m going to get the company name. If you wanted to be helpful you could speed up the process for me.”

Silence.

Ouyang and Kennett seemed to communicate anyway, talking with their eyes.

“We’ll call you, Mike,” Kennett said. “Save your money. We’ll get you that name.”

“Just curious though,” Ouyang said. “What are you going to do with the information?”

“What do you think I’m going to do with it?” Michael answered coolly. “I’m going to use it to find my wife.”





CHAPTER 7





NATALIE


BEFORE SHE DISAPPEARED

Natalie and Michael were walking along a gravelly path, hiking a popular trail at Purgatory Falls in New Hampshire. It was a sunny day, but the temps were frigid. There was ice on this trail, and Natalie didn’t have spikes on her hiking boots. Why hadn’t Michael advised her to bring spikes?

High above, Natalie heard the stark caw-caw of a crow flying overhead, giving her something new to worry about. Isn’t that an omen? Natalie wasn’t sure, but she thought crows were once considered messengers of the gods. Or was it harbingers of death? She watched the black bird make ponderous circles, at times skimming the treetops.

Go away, thought Natalie. Go away, you bad luck bird. I’ve enough trouble without you around.

Why am I here? she asked herself, feeling an ache of loneliness. They were the only hikers on this trail; the only people on the whole damn mountain, it seemed.

The cry of the crow bled off into the distance, but when Natalie looked up again, she saw not one bird but two circling now. Michael glanced back, at last taking notice of his wife.

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it, Nat?” he said, shouting to be heard over a trumpet of wind that bellowed at them from the east.

One of the black crows cawed as if in response. Michael seemed at home in this stark terrain, far more so than Natalie. His rugged good looks appeared carved out of the very rocks on which he stood. He had a nose fit for a Roman emperor, and his penetrating dark eyes suggested a man who always seemed to have something on his mind. Buffeting winds revealed hidden grays that snaked through his mane of curly brown hair.