I told him about Pad Thai, and he looked surprised. “We’ll have to go back and formally interview the hostess, but we were planning on going back up there next week anyway.”
“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m driven to do something. I need to be part of this, to find resolution.”
The detective shook his head. “Claire…” He reached over and put his hand on mine. “You can’t be part of this. We will update you as often as we can. We have Greg’s car. It was at the airport, where we expected it. It’s been at the station for a few days. It had to be searched and processed. You can come get it at some point, or I can drive it over.”
“I don’t want to drive it.” I closed my eyes. I pictured the driver’s side with the seat fully extended for Greg’s long legs and his glasses, which he wore only to drive, in the glove compartment. All the mirrors were positioned for his eyes, and adjusting them so that I could drive would feel like another erasure, another small exorcism of Greg from our lives. Greg’s car had a wonderful smell, like leather, cologne, vanilla air freshener, and Greg, all mixed together in an intoxicating cocktail. I knew there was no way I’d be able to drive that car.
“I’ll pick it up,” Drew said.
For a moment, I had forgotten Drew was there. I thanked him and turned back to the detective. “What else have you found out?”
Detective Reynolds opened his notebook. “Sometime after he landed in Rochester, he withdrew a thousand dollars from the ATM. Is that usual? Did he usually carry that much cash?”
I was taken aback. “Greg never really carried cash. I used to tell him all the time to take out more than twenty bucks at a shot because the surcharges are so high, but he never did. He used his debit card for everything. So, no, that’s not like him at all.” That sounds as though he was planning something.
Detective Reynolds wrote in his notebook. “We did get a hold of his corporate cell phone, corporate credit card records, and with your permission, we’d like to review your personal credit records, Claire.”
I nodded. I wanted to add, Could you tell me what’s in them? But I bit back the words.
“One other thing. We found a few calls to a nine-oh-eight area code that didn’t match up with any number we knew. We traced the number, and it came back to a Go phone, one of those pay-as-you-go things. Some of the calls lasted an hour or more in the early morning hours. Any thoughts on who he was talking to?”
The realization hit me, low and solid in my core, churning my stomach. “Greg hasn’t been sleeping much at night. He wanders the house at all hours. I never know when he comes to bed or when he wakes up. I always considered it part of whatever he was going through lately.” I closed my eyes. I felt so stupid. It was a feeling I was getting used to. My life was a mockery. To have Greg living a drastically different self-contained life that I knew nothing about felt like a raw betrayal.
Detective Reynolds continued hesitantly, “We also looked at your cell phone records. The last time Greg used either his credit cards or his cell phone was Tuesday morning. In fact, we can’t find anything to prove he was alive after Tuesday at seven p.m., which is when he withdrew the cash from the ATM.”
I inhaled sharply. “Do you think he’s dead?”
Detective Reynolds shook his head. “I don’t think we can say that yet. He had a thousand dollars. You can go for a while on that kind of money, even longer if you have someplace to stay. Does he know anyone else that you can think of in the Rochester area? Think hard. He stayed there for six months when you first met, right? He must have made friends. Is there anyone he kept in touch with?”
I searched my memory, but came up blank. “No, he never talked about anyone he knew up there.”
“What about his itineraries? Did he leave you with information when he left?” I got up and retrieved the travel notebook where Greg always documented his trips. The detective stood to leave, tapping the notebook on the cover. “If you go anywhere else, Claire, let me know. I’ll keep you posted, okay?” We shook hands, and he left.
I felt bone-weary. I needed to see my kids. Drew wrapped his arms around me from behind and kissed my head. I relaxed into him briefly, but my thoughts wandered to Hannah and Leah. I needed to see them, to touch them, be with them. Either because he sensed that, or simply because he was tired, Drew retreated upstairs to take a nap.
I drove to my parents’ house to pick up the girls. When I got there, they ran to me and clung to my legs.
“It’s been a rough few days, Claire,” Mom said.
I closed my eyes. I needed to talk to Hannah. But what could I say?
“I’m glad you came back, Mommy,” Hannah said.
“I’ll always come back, Hannah-banana,” I said without thinking.