My Wife Is Missing(95)

“What’s on your mind?” Michael asked, his eyes on the road ahead.

“Dust,” said Kennett.

“What?”

Michael drove over a large rock that sent him bouncing and caused his seat belt to lock tight.

“Dust,” Kennett repeated, sounding troubled for reasons Michael didn’t understand.

“What about?” asked Michael.

“It’s in the air in front of us,” said Kennett.

“And? We’re on a dirt road. I think that’s to be expected.”

Kennett pointed to the trees whizzing by on Michael’s left.

“No wind,” he said.

Michael still wasn’t getting it. Kennett’s musings, as well as this road that seemed to stretch on forever, were both trying his patience.

“A car came through here, Mike,” Kennett explained, speaking as if he were giving a weak student the answer. “It was going fast, too, I suspect. Can’t say if it was coming or going, but all the dust means it couldn’t have been that long ago.”

Michael would have asked Kennett to elaborate, but just then the road brought them to a wide clearing, from which he could see both cow-dotted pastures and a white farmhouse not far up ahead. It was a beautiful vista, resplendent as a pastoral painting.

Natalie was here, hiding out from him. What did she know? What had she told Kate? For the entirety of the drive, Kennett hadn’t once mentioned the name Brianna Sykes, and yet Michael sensed it was on his mind, a shadow lurking just below the surface.

Michael pushed his worries aside—he still needed Kennett’s help. They drove up to the house and exited the car together, like partners accustomed to the routine of answering dispatch calls. Kennett did up the button of his blazer, his focus switching between the farmhouse in front of them and the dust cloud still clinging to the air.

As they approached the house, a stout blond woman trotted down the front stairs. Michael assumed this was Kate, but he couldn’t say for sure. There were too many years and miles between them for that kind of clarity, not to mention his dim recollections of anyone but Natalie from the night they met. The woman came outside as though she’d been waiting at the door, expecting their arrival. Michael found her eagerness disconcerting.

The woman greeted Michael and Kennett at the halfway point between their car and the house.

“Hi there,” she said, her voice bright as the midday sun.

Too bright, too chipper.

Kennett sent Michael a telling glance. She’s hiding something, that look said. Michael may have missed the dust clue entirely, but being around Kennett offered him some sort of detecting ability by osmosis.

“Hey there,” said Kennett before flashing his badge. “Are you Kate Hildonen?”

“I am,” said Kate, still cheery.

Michael noted how she stood, hands clasped together white-knuckled in front of her, a smile that looked plastered on. Whenever Michael got anxious, he’d drum his fingers against any surface. Perhaps hand-clasping was Kate’s way of showing her unease.

“I’m Detective Sergeant Amos Kennett from the New York PD, and this here is Mike Hart, who I think you know already.”

“Michael,” said Kate, her forced smile faltering for only a moment. She let go an audible exhale. “Yes, it’s been a long time. And Detective, you’ve come a long way. What are you doing here, Mike?”

“You know why we’re here,” said Kennett in a tone that clearly implied an eye roll. “Where is she?”

“I don’t know—”

Michael put up his hand like a stop sign.

“Kate, let’s not, okay?” he said, holding back his ire. “Let’s just not. You called Lucinda, and Lucinda called me. You know why we’re here. I figured out where she’d gone, so we were already on our way to your farm when I got that call. Now, where’s my family?”

Kate shifted her attention back to the house, where a barrel-chested man now appeared on the front porch.

“That’s my husband, Chuck,” said Kate.

Michael’s eyes followed the big man as he bounded down the stairs with a grace that belied his size. He approached with a hand extended, eager to greet these visitors.

“Chuck MacLeod,” he said in a resonate baritone. Michael took the proffered hand and gave it a shake. Kennett did not. His focus was back on the road, still eyeing that dust.

“They’re here for Natalie,” Kate said, adopting a more subdued tone.

Chuck nodded vigorously while sending Kate a glance that all but screamed to Michael that they’d preplanned their stories. “Yeah, well, she and the kids are gone,” he announced, shifting uneasily in his heavy-duty work boots.

“Yeah? When?” asked Kennett, not sounding convinced.

Chuck scratched at his beard with a forced look of contemplation, but Michael knew it was an effort to sell his lie.

“A while ago, I’d say.”

He turned to Kate, who nodded in agreement.

“What’s a while?” inquired Kennett as he took another glance at the road.

“I’d say an hour or so,” answered Kate. “We didn’t know you were coming for her.”

“Because I told Lucinda not to tell you,” Michael answered quickly. “Where’d they go?”