Kate had replied, “ok,” in response to the new number, hadn’t asked any questions, which meant she hadn’t seen the Facebook post. Good. She’d learn the truth soon enough.
Five or so hours and a few stops later, Natalie drove into Zanesville, Ohio. Finally, rest was imminent. No way could she make the full eight hours she’d planned on driving.
Brightly colored religious messages and neon-lit crosses greeted the family at every turn as they drove along the wide, quiet streets lined with white clapboard homes and their welcoming front porches. Natalie noted the overall Americana charm of the place, and without warning, a torrent of sadness rose up inside her. This was the life she’d imagined for herself when she and Michael first got serious. Lemonade stands and ball games. Good neighbors and cookouts. Campfires and cuddles. A husband who adored her—and didn’t lie about everything. This was what she’d always wanted: a modest but decent existence in a town just like this one.
She drove through the town center in what she guessed to be under four seconds. It was approaching one o’clock in the afternoon, but the streets were eerily empty. Maybe everyone was at church. Natalie couldn’t help but take in the multitude of spiritual messages peppering the sides of buildings and antiquated farmhouses, reminding her to pray.
She checked out three different motels, until finally selecting a modestly priced Fairfield Inn. The kids were all energy as they bounded out of the car, desperate to give their legs a good stretch. They ran in circles, chasing after each other on a patch of grass in something of a courtyard fronting the inn. Perhaps because the air tasted extra fresh out here, Addie didn’t seem to have any breathing troubles, though Natalie’s deep inhales were hardly rejuvenating.
After issuing instructions to both children to stay close by, play only on the grassy area. Natalie went to check in.
The receptionist greeted Natalie with an affable smile that could have advertised a dental practice.
“Checking in?”
A gritty film covered Natalie’s eyes, as though she’d driven through a dust storm. Road-weary travelers had to comprise the bulk of the Fairfield’s guests, which would explain why her bedraggled appearance attracted no special attention from this clerk.
“Yes, but I don’t have a reservation,” said Natalie.
The receptionist began tapping away on her keyboard with the precision of a concert pianist. Several moments later she announced room availability as if it were a stroke of good fortune. The parking lot was mostly empty when they’d arrived and Natalie doubted this establishment ever sold out.
“We just need a credit card to authorize for incidentals and a driver’s license and I’ll get you checked in,” the receptionist said.
Natalie only half heard as her attention was focused out the window on the patch of lawn where Addie twirled Bryce by his arm. Both kids had big smiles on their faces, but Natalie thought the play was too rough. She remembered Bryce’s elbow injury his father had inflicted upon him, and thought a hospital visit could be as disastrous as a speeding ticket. With her focus elsewhere, Natalie absentmindedly handed over her credit card.
While the receptionist busied herself with the checkin process, Natalie headed outside to round up Addie and Bryce.
Moments later, she returned to the counter with two grumbling kids in tow, both of them angry at having had their fun cut short. The receptionist returned the credit card and driver’s license. She didn’t seem at all perplexed that Natalie’s new hair color didn’t match her license photo, nor did her name raise any suspicions. That brought a measure of relief to Natalie, who felt she was in the clear here. They were safe. She could sleep tonight. Maybe.
But as Natalie put her card back in her wallet, something clicked in her mind. A sickening feeling swept over her as anxiety kicked in and her body began to tremble. She knew she’d made a terrible mistake, one from which she could not easily recover.
“Can you cancel that transaction?” Natalie asked the receptionist with urgency.
“Sure,” came the reply, but Natalie thought it over, realizing that probably wouldn’t work, wouldn’t erase the transaction in the system.
Briskly, she snapped her wallet closed before shoving it into her purse.
Because Natalie had applied for the new credit card independently, the card company used her salary, not their joint income, to establish the credit limit, which was considerably less than she would have preferred. For that reason, Natalie kept the old credit card handy for emergency purposes only.
She thought she’d made all the right moves. The bank account she opened to pay bills would keep Michael in the dark about the new card, and she even had the foresight to use a PO box address for her application, as well as going paperless to hide the new credit card statements from him. As an added precaution, Natalie religiously kept the old card in a special slot in her wallet to avoid any mix-ups like the one she’d just made.
She’d been in a total fog, her brain clicked off, when she mistakenly handed the clerk the old credit card, the wrong damn card, the one Michael used as well.
Sirens blared in Natalie’s head, and self-castigation soon followed.
You dummy! You idiot! You screwup!
A look of concern swept into the clerk’s eyes.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Heat like a fire burned through Natalie, turning her cheeks red. She couldn’t get out any words. But that voice in her head was back, screaming at her like a drill sergeant: Go! Go! Go! He’d know. Natalie wasn’t certain if an authorization would show up as a transaction on a statement, or if it might even trigger a fraud alert. Given the efficiency of the credit card company, it very well might. If so, Michael would see the charge or get the alert, and he’d know it was his wife checking into a hotel, and more significantly he’d know her exact location.
Then he’d come for her, and he’d track her down. There were cameras here, too, had to be, though Natalie didn’t spot them on the way inside. She’d lulled herself into a false sense of security. But she was secure no more. Michael would see everything. The car. The license plate. He’d see it all.
Natalie’s mouth went dry. She grabbed Addie and Bryce by their arms and pulled them toward the door.
“I’m sorry,” she said to the clerk as she took several lumbering steps backward. “We won’t be needing that room after all. Something’s just come up.”
“What’s going on, Mommy?” asked Bryce, keying in on his mother’s distress. “Is it Daddy? Do we have the wrong hotel?”
“Yes,” said Natalie, twisting her body to face the door, moving faster now. Panic fluttered in her chest. “We have the wrong hotel.”
“So that means we’ll see Daddy soon?” asked Addie, her eyes shimmering with delight.
“Yes,” Natalie said, talking with a faraway voice. In her mind she was plotting: how to recover? “We’ll probably be seeing Daddy sooner than we think.”
CHAPTER 23
MICHAEL