My Wife Is Missing(45)

A blast of color spit out from the spray bottle’s nozzle and quickly coated Addie’s golden locks a dark shade of brown.

“How does it look?” Addie asked excitedly.

“Gorgeous,” answered Natalie, who realized she’d applied too much spray to one part of Addie’s hair, so much so that the color appeared uneven. It looked like dried blood on her scalp. Natalie’s mind immediately jumped to that terrible night—not so long ago—and to the vision seared into her memory. For the rest of the effort, Natalie was far more precise with her application, but she was still shaken by the flashback, that horrifying experience. How could she ever forget?

The spraying stopped. Addie turned her head.

“Mommy, you’re crying,” she said.

Natalie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“No, darling, it’s just spring allergies causing me to get teary. Let’s finish, okay? It looks beautiful!” She forced a smile onto her face.

When Bryce saw his sister, he was all giggles and delight.

“I want brown hair, too,” he said, bouncing on the bed like a rubber ball on asphalt.

“You’re in luck,” said Natalie, who still had her shower cap on.

Fifteen minutes later, Bryce was a brunette just like his sister. They were making faces in the mirror, laughing hysterically at their new appearances. Next, they tried on their new wardrobe, which Natalie had made as plain as possible. No flashy colors or logos of any kind. It was to be jeans, tees, and sweatshirts for both her children. From this point forward, they’d not be allowed to wear anything from the photo being shared online. New clothes. New hair. They each had sunglasses, too, as well as baggy coats that would help keep them concealed.

Was it perfect? No. But for Natalie it was one less worry to keep her awake at night.

Addie got to experiment with the makeup, while Natalie went to the bathroom to rinse her hair in the shower. Rivulets of brown, the color of dried blood, cascaded down her body, making a snaking path toward the drain. She watched as the dye pooled beneath the faucet, swirling as it disappeared.

For a moment, Natalie felt like she was standing near that pool of blood all over again. She got out of the shower and towel dried her now–dark brown hair, leaving behind stains on the white fabric. Reminders of blood were everywhere, following her, and would probably haunt her dreams if only she had any. The knock might have been in her head, but that body was as real as anything.

Natalie pushed the shock and fear of that memory away so she could focus on her children.

“Come here,” she said to them, pulling them into her arms. “Let’s look at ourselves.”

They gathered in front of the mirror above the dresser, three brunettes now. It was hardly a professional job for any of them, but it would do the trick.

“Okay,” said Natalie, “let’s pack our bags and go. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“I can’t wait to show Daddy,” said Bryce.

“Me too,” Addie concurred.

Natalie took one more look in the mirror, noticing how the dye from her hair had bled onto her scalp. To her eyes, it looked like an open wound, almost like a prelude to her murder.





CHAPTER 20





MICHAEL


Even though it wasn’t yet noontime, Michael arrived home from his in-laws’ utterly exhausted, enervated in a way he’d never experienced before. He noted (the irony not lost on him) that he was probably too tired to sleep, and if he tried he’d only be frustrated. Of course this brought to mind Natalie’s plight. Melancholy enveloped him in a cocoon. What might he have done better to support her?

Somewhere along the bumpy road of life, Michael knew they’d veered onto separate paths. Sure, they’d managed to keep each other in sight, but how is it they had operated for so long as a couple and yet not as a team?

What he wanted out of life were the simple things: a woman to love, children to raise, new experiences, and a family to share it all with. And he had wanted to be smart and thoughtful about the partner he selected. Such was not the case with Natalie, who had swept him up in a whirlwind of feelings and emotions. He had gone along for the ride, eschewing his thoughtful intentions in the process.

In Michael’s view, people weren’t meant to walk this planet alone, and yet here he was now, all alone in his own house, blanketed in a profound silence. It was as if he’d just returned from his family’s graveside.

The devil was on his shoulder again, whispering uncomfortable truths, reconfirming Michael’s greatest fear about karma having a very long memory.

Ten minutes after he walked through the front door, Michael’s cell phone buzzed, imploring him to answer. It was the fifth call he’d received in the last twenty minutes or so. Like the others, the caller wasn’t someone in his contacts, and the number wasn’t one he recognized. Four of the calls had been from strangers who’d seen the Facebook post and wanted to reach out with a prayer or word of support. Perhaps this caller would be different.

“Hello, Michael Hart here,” he said, with enthusiasm and hope in his voice.

All he heard was breathing.

It was Harvey who had suggested Michael include his cell phone number in the Facebook post about Natalie and the kids. That post was already starting to amass a lot of views, which explained the flurry of calls he’d received in short order.