“Maybe you should go look at that schedule and tell me who was working at the time of this transaction.”
He showed the clerk a screen grab of the alert Natalie’s credit card company had sent. The clerk went stock-still, as if Kennett had performed some kind of Jedi mind trick from Star Wars on him. Thoughts of that movie made Michael think of Bryce—it was a favorite film of his.
God, how he missed his son, his daughter, and yes—even his wife. He loved Natalie, truly loved her. Which was why he’d done what had to be done. For everyone’s sake, Michael had to find them and set things right. No matter how unpleasant that righting would be.
The clerk edged backward before slipping into an anteroom that Michael assumed functioned as a small office. Michael stayed quiet, letting Kennett take the lead doing his cop thing. The clerk returned a minute later.
“Nancy was on,” he announced.
Delight danced in the detective’s eyes. Michael could tell Kennett got off on the chase, any chase.
“Okay,” said Kennett, adopting a softer voice. “What’s your name, son?”
“Jerry,” said the clerk nervously.
“Jerry, okay, Jerry. I want you to get Nancy on the phone for me.”
“I really…”
“And while you’re at it,” said Kennett, interrupting. “You have a camera that looks out at the parking lot. I need to see footage that coincides with the time of this alert.”
Michael hadn’t seen any cameras on the way into the hotel, but he didn’t have Kennett’s trained eyes either. Glancing through a bank of windows, Michael peered into a parking lot full of nondescript rental vehicles like his.
“I really need to speak to my manager,” Jerry reiterated.
“What you need,” said Kennett, his voice hardening again, “is to do what I said. Call your boss after. Time’s a-wastin’, son.”
Kennett’s goatee partially hid a slim smile, though Michael figured the clerk was too intimidated to have noticed.
“Yeah … yeah, okay … but you’d have to come back here to look at the security footage. We have software for that.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” said Kennett, who brightened considerably.
Michael followed Kennett into the anteroom behind the check-in counter. On one wall hung a corkboard papered with announcements, including a printed schedule—most likely what the clerk had referenced to figure out who was working at the time Natalie came in.
Why Ohio? Michael kept asking himself. Michael had made a Facebook profile to source leads, but Natalie’s settings prevented him from seeing her friends, which limited his ability to cross-reference the people connected to his wife who lived in or near this state. As a countermeasure, he’d asked Harvey and Lucinda for their help in identifying individuals from Natalie’s past who might be living in the vicinity of her last known location.
“Mike, you look at the software. Make sure you match the date and time. See if you get a license plate on Natalie’s car. I’m going to call Nancy.”
Kennett departed after the clerk gave him Nancy’s home phone number. The clerk must have assumed Michael, too, was a New York City detective, because he set him up on the computer without hesitation. The application to review the black-and-white security camera footage was relatively intuitive and easy to use, but the clerk helped Michael anyway.
As Jerry got the footage up on the screen, Michael thought of the hotel manager in New York. Not that long ago, Dan White had held a viewing of similar security camera footage from the Marriott Marquis. This time it was Jerry controlling the playback. Michael watched as cars came and went like a time-lapse movie. He kept an eye on the date and time stamp displayed in the upper left corner of the screen. Minutes before the suspect credit card transaction took place—at quarter past one o’clock in the afternoon—a sedan pulled into the parking lot. Soon after that, Natalie exited from the driver’s seat.
It was beyond surreal to see her on camera. It couldn’t be Natalie, he told himself, but then out stepped the children, dispelling any doubt. Michael welled up at the sight of his family. He was relieved to see they were safe, seemed healthy, happy, and even playful. He asked himself: How had this come to be their life?
Why had Natalie driven a car all the way from New York to Ohio? Why had she dyed Bryce’s hair several shades darker, which is how it appeared in the grainy security camera footage? Was she trying to disguise his appearance?
“This is Natalie. She’s my wife,” Michael said, pointing to the screen. “And these are my kids, Addison and Bryce.”
Jerry was at a loss for words. He sported a vacant expression and looked quite uncomfortable on his feet. Michael got it. Jerry was pretty much a kid himself.
“She’s on the run,” he said, not caring if Jerry was tuned in or not. “I’m trying to find them.”
Michael resumed the video playback, and the scene had changed. Addie and Bryce were visible in the background, coming in and out of the frame as they played on a strip of grass in front of the hotel. A great wave of sadness washed over Michael. His throat closed up as tears sprang to his eyes. Through his watery vision, Michael could see Jerry eyeing him warily. Holding up his hand, Michael hoped to convey the words he couldn’t get out.
I’m okay. I’ll be all right. Just give me a minute.
In an act of compassion, Jerry took several steps toward the door, which happened to be the only way he could get out of the room, trying to give Michael a moment of privacy. Before he could depart, Kennett showed up. If he noticed Michael drying his eyes, Kennett didn’t offer any commentary.
“Nancy wasn’t much help,” he said, “but she did share that your kids had dark hair.”
Michael finished rubbing his red eyes.
“I saw that in the video.”
“You handling this okay, Mike?” Kennett asked a bit tentatively.
“No, not really.”
Kennett patted Michael on the shoulder, didn’t bother with words of encouragement, leaving Michael to guess that was how the detective showed empathy.
For a change of subject, Michael reversed the footage and replayed it from the point of Natalie’s arrival.
“Here’s the car she’s in,” he said. “The footage is fuzzy, so I can’t read the plate number.”
“No need,” said Kennett. “I’ve been texting with the Staties since we got here.”
Michael thought: So that’s why you were being quiet on the drive.
Kennett continued.
“Finally got word from headquarters that a few hours ago a state trooper pulled Natalie over on I-70. She came up in the system as a missing person, which should have meant she’d be detained and we’d be done, but there was a multi-vehicle accident nearby and she caught a lucky break. The trooper called it in though, so at least we have her plate number and more.”
“Pulled over for what?”
“Erratic driving. Natalie said she got distracted thinking Addie might have been having an asthma attack. She’s driving a rental car. Avis. Picked it up in New York. Told the cop who pulled her over that she was headed for Indianapolis.”