My Wife Is Missing(47)

“Mike, you still with me?” said the kidnapper. “You want us to do another toe?”

Another scream followed, this one louder and more disturbing than the others, and on the heels of that came a female’s desperate plea.

“Please … please help.”

Kennett pointed to the phone, then to his ear, and then over to Michael who understood he was being asked to put the caller on mute. He was worried though. He remembered Kennett in New York as quite arrogant and feared the detective might do something rash, dangerous even. He couldn’t help but see Natalie’s blood painting that truck red, her severed toe nearby, and another one about to come off.

“Hang on,” Michael said sharply into the phone. “I’m here. I’m just getting a pen.”

“Hurry, Mike,” said the kidnapper. “She’s bleeding bad.”

Michael thought it over. Kennett was a cop and that was the trump card. Michael tapped the mute icon on his phone.

“What’s going on, Mike?” said Kennett. “I called your cell. You didn’t answer. I was sitting in my car outside your house, but I could see you pacing about in here. You looked worried. Figured I’d come check on things, make sure you’re all right.”

Kennett pointed to the front door, which was open, allowing Michael to follow the trail of his finger to where a dark SUV was parked curbside.

“Is this something I might be able to help you with?”

“What are you doing here, Detective?” Michael asked. A nervous flutter filled his chest. Why is a detective from New York City at my house? Less than twenty-four hours since he officially reported his wife missing. Odd didn’t begin to address it. Michael reasoned if Kennett knew something about Natalie he’d have called. No matter. Kennett was here now, and Michael reasoned the detective might be able to help with his immediate crisis.

“A man on the phone,” Michael said, spitting out the words, “claims he’s got Natalie and the kids. He’s cut off one of Nat’s toes, and he’s threatening to do it to the others.”

“Well now,” Kennett said, keeping any alarm out of his eyes and voice. “Did he ask you to wire him some money … a small amount, say, less than two thousand?”

“Yeah, they want fifteen hundred dollars.”

Kennett nodded like he’s heard that story before.

“Short money makes it easier to make a decision.”

The anxiety building in Michael’s chest let go, allowing a spurt of anger to take its place.

“Michael, this is a scam,” Kennett said matter-of-factly. “Did you happen to hear a scream?”

Michael returned a glum nod.

“That’s a recording. It’s called virtual kidnapping, and the virtual part is real, but the kidnapping part—eh.” Kennett gave a dispirited headshake. “Not so much. How about you give me the phone, Mike?”

Michael handed over his phone without further prodding. Kennett took the call off mute.

“Hey, Jackhole,” Kennett said, talking in an animated voice. “I don’t know where you’re calling from, or how you got this number.” He looked to Mike and mouthed, internet? to which Michael nodded. “Okay, the internet. Got it. So you target a desperate dad. Pretty low even for you lowlifes.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m your worst goddamn nightmare, that’s who I am.” Kennett paused, maybe to let the threat sink in. Then, a wide grin broke out on his face. “Ah, I’m just screwing with you. That tough talk is from the movies. But I do know that you’re gigantically full of shit, and I’m technically in law enforcement, so I guess what I said isn’t entirely a lie. But look, I’m not going to bother tracking you down. Frying small fish is a waste of your time and mine. But do us both a favor, amigo, will you? Don’t call back.”

Kennett handed the phone to Michael. He heard the breathing again before the kidnapper ended the call.

“Your wife’s toes are fine,” Kennett assured him. “These scammers.” He shook his head more derisively this time. “You put your phone number out on the internet, give these sharks a whiff of desperation, let them smell blood in the water, and they’ll come find you.”

Michael glanced at his feet.

“Don’t be hard on yourself, Mike. Lots of people fall for this nonsense. It’s why they do it. But putting your contact info out there for all to see isn’t a great move. There are better ways to source leads than having bottom feeders trying to get in touch with you.”

“What are you doing here, Detective?”

Michael couldn’t keep the edge from his voice.

“What? Can’t I check up on you? See how things are going?”

“From New York? A day after I left the city? I’d figured you’d call if you had information.”

Kennett cracked a smile.

“Normally that’s right, but I happen to have a cousin, lives close by. I had some vacation time and we both like to fish. Figured we’d hang out a bit, and since I was in the neighborhood, I decided I’d stop by, check in on you, see how things are going with your missing family. Guess I got here just in time to save you fifteen hundred bucks.”

Michael shot Kennett a questioning look. It was obvious the detective had an ulterior motive and a game was afoot. What that game was, Michael couldn’t say.