My Wife Is Missing(85)

“No, I left. Like I said, it was taking too long.”

He heard Emmett mutter, “How convenient.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” Joseph said.

“Are you exercising your right to remain silent?”

“I am.”

“Okay, then. The interview is over.”

It was back to his holding cell. His arraignment was in the morning. He didn’t want his father there. His father came yesterday, and it was no surprise he made it all about himself, making a point to say how hard it was to be the talk of the town.

Joseph lost his temper, of course he did. He screamed at his father to go to hell and the guards had to come subdue him. That temper, always getting him in trouble—but his dad asked for it, didn’t he? It was Joseph’s life on the line, but somehow his dad was the one suffering the most.

He could do without seeing his mother, too. She’d smile tightly, tell him she loved him, but he could read her eyes just the same. And those eyes of hers would say one word:

Guilty.



* * *



The memory faded. Michael was back in the bar, but the interview room and Detective Emmett were never far from his thoughts. Any doubts Michael had harbored about Kennett’s motivation for helping him find Natalie were gone. This wasn’t about his missing wife—Kennett was here because of him. The story he’d told about the girl in the marsh might in fact be the first honest thing to come out of the detective’s mouth since the start of their journey.

Kennett was here because he wanted what the courts couldn’t get: justice for Brianna.

“She told her coworker they were going to meet at the park. She was going to try to calm him down,” Kennett said with the dispassion of a police report. “I guess he was really upset about the breakup. She was a sweetheart; very thoughtful girl. If you knew her, you’d know she’d care, put his needs before her own. When she didn’t come home, her father called the police to report her missing. Then, weeks later, that jogger found her.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Michael asked, willing the shake from his voice.

“He was put on trial. We thought we had a good case. Really strong. He was at the scene of the crime. He had a motive.”

“But no murder weapon.”

Michael said it like a statement, not a question, because he knew the answer. He could have finished Kennett’s sentences about the case and trial if he wanted to.

“Nope. No weapon ever found. There was a second car, or so the boyfriend claimed, a red one, make and model unknown, and some grainy surveillance footage to back up his story, and that helped put additional doubt in the mind of the jury.”

“And no forensics, either, I bet,” said Michael.

“Good guess there, Mike,” Kennett said. “No forensics. But that was a long time ago. DNA testing wasn’t much back then.”

“So are you going to try the guy again with new evidence?”

Kennett smiled wickedly.

“Can’t do that, Mike, you know that. Double jeopardy.”

“So how you gonna rid yourself of that ghost?” Michael couldn’t mask the tension in his voice. “It’s a lot for you to carry around.”

“Once a killer, always a killer, Mike,” Kennett said calmly. “Unfortunately, that means someone else will have to die before I can get my man. Not wishing for it, of course, but like I said, once a killer, always a killer. I’d say the odds of it happening again are kind of in my favor.”





CHAPTER 36





NATALIE


BEFORE SHE DISAPPEARED

She told Michael she was going on a business trip.

To sell her story, Natalie did what was expected. She packed an overnight bag, her small black one, since she’d only be gone a day. She made sure Michael had the number of the hotel in Connecticut where she’d be staying. She’d made arrangements for Addie and Bryce to stay with her parents. She sold this as a benefit, but there was no way she’d allow her children to be alone in the care of a murderer.

“Mom’s been wanting them for an overnight for ages, and weekends are so busy lately,” Natalie explained, giving it her best acting job, worried that she was laying it on a bit too thick. “Let them miss a day of school. What difference will it make?”

None. Michael agreed readily without argument, probably because he didn’t want the responsibility. Natalie mused that maybe he already had a new woman on the side.

She took all the right precautions. If Michael got suspicious for any reason and checked the hotel, there wouldn’t be a problem, as she’d made and paid for the reservation, but there was no meeting to attend. Instead, she headed across state lines into New York.

The day was warm. Bright sunshine filled the sky, though her mood remained dark. Each mile traveled put her that much closer to an encounter she wasn’t sure she could handle.

Port Chester Harbor loomed on her right as she traversed the bridge on the Connecticut Turnpike, but a steady stream of construction projects soon obstructed the view. Eventually, she found herself navigating the leafy streets of Rye, New York, which featured sprawling colonials right up next to each other on nicely manicured lawns. A GPS phone app guided Natalie to her destination, 14 Rockaway Road, on which stood a single-story, cedar-shingled home, far more modest than any of the neighboring homes.