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.
“People will need a way to get in touch with you immediately, right?” Harvey had said in that commanding voice of his. The subtext there: this is my daughter and it’s not up for debate.
Michael’s initial reaction was a hard “No,” but he was diminished from fatigue, and relented. Still, he had a good notion of the potential consequences of reaching out to the general public with his phone number on display. Last he checked, there were a hundred fifteen shares of Lucinda’s post. There were a lot more eyeballs on the post than shares, so chances were a wide net would catch a few crazies along with those thoughts and prayers.
Michael spoke again.
“Hello, is this about Natalie?”
More breathing.
“Hello? Who is this?” Michael demanded. “I’m going to hang up if you don’t answer me.”
“You hang up and she’s dead. Your kids, too.”
A gravelly voice, low and menacing, issued the threat with little emotion. Michael felt a clamp around his heart like a cold hand squeezing inside his chest.
“Who are you?”
All Michael heard was more breathing, heavy and slow, each breath long and drawn out.
“I have them, all of them, your beautiful wife and two precious kids. They’re in the back of a truck and I’m going to do terrible things to them if you don’t do as I say. You listening, Mike?”
The man spoke quickly in a clipped voice, almost like he was reading from a script.
“I’m listening.”
Michael gripped the kitchen counter for balance. Terror surged through him as he thought of those terrible things.
“You and I are going to make a little transaction, otherwise it’s gonna be the bad things. Don’t make me, okay?”
This was his worst nightmare coming to fruition—his family out on their own, him not around to protect them, and now they’ve become prey. As if to add an exclamation mark to his blossoming fear, Michael heard in the background a blood-chilling scream.
“Help me!” The raw and primal voice overpowered his phone’s tiny speaker. “Please help!” While the speaker distorted the words, he could still make out what was said. He tried to match the scream to Natalie’s voice, but his mind was racing, thoughts scattered like shrapnel. Michael couldn’t tell. He’d never heard his wife scream with such terror, so he had no point of reference.
“Listen to me carefully,” said the man. “We have Natalie, Addie, and Bryce.”
No, you have their names that I put out on the internet for all to see, Michael thought as he considered the possibility this could be a scam.
“You’re going to pay us a ransom or we’re going to cut off Natalie’s toes using pruning shears. Strong shears. We’ll do it toe by toe, slowly, painfully, until you pay us what we want. Do you hear me, Michael?”
What Michael heard was an accent he couldn’t quite place. Had Natalie gone south, or maybe toward Miami? He could only speculate. His phone buzzed in his hand. He was getting another call. Of course, he’d let this one go to voicemail.
“Don’t hang up on me,” the kidnapper instructed, as if he knew about that incoming call. “We have to do this quickly or else.”
A second scream, this one more chilling than the first, demanded he comply.
“You’re going to wire fifteen hundred dollars to an account. I’ll give you the number.”
Fifteen hundred? Michael thought. Why so low?
“Got a pen? You write this down. I’m staying on the line with you until we get the money.”
“Let me talk to my family first,” Michael said, feeling emboldened. “I want to hear from Natalie. I need to know she’s okay.”