They stopped at a Johnny Rockets located inside the John Glenn Columbus airport for a meal. Good thing the airport location kept later hours as Michael had gone there with hope in his heart. They had a Johnny Rockets at the Burlington Mall, close to home, and it was one of his kids’ favorite restaurants. It was conceivable that they’d begged Natalie to go there on the way out of the airport, but they weren’t seated when he and Kennett arrived.
It was a half hour before closing, and Kennett was starving so they stayed; Michael willingly faked an appetite. When the food came, Kennett took a giant bite of his hamburger. He chewed slowly, no sign of worry or hurry. Michael watched with mounting concern. He sensed a shift take place in Kennett, as if his helper was revealing himself, morphing before Michael’s eyes into an adversary. He’d catch a telling glance here and there, Kennett’s gaze lingering too long, a cagey expression hinting at ulterior motives. Michael could breathe easy only because Kennett hadn’t brought up Audrey Adler’s name since their time together at the Friday’s bar in Burlington, but something told him that wouldn’t be the case for long.
“You’re not eating, Mike,” Kennett said, as he dabbed away a dollop of ketchup that clung to a corner of his mouth.
Indeed, Michael’s burger sat cooling on his plate.
“Relax and eat, Mike,” Kennett encouraged. “We’ve got her new license plate number. She’s going to turn up soon. We’re almost at the endgame.”
Michael should have had faith. After all, Kennett had guessed correctly that Natalie would ditch her rental. Skill and experience had directed him to check the Avis location at the Columbus airport. After confirming his theory, they’d checked three other companies before learning that Natalie had rented a Nissan Rogue from Hertz. Now, thanks largely to Kennett’s efforts, the police had a description of her new vehicle along with a license plate to track. It wasn’t a stretch to think it would only be a matter of time before they located his family.
Still, Michael was worried, not only about Natalie and his children, but about Kennett as well.
“Why are you doing this?” Michael asked.
He finally managed a bite of his burger, but the food had the flavor of cardboard.
“Doing what, Mike?” replied Kennett, as if he didn’t know.
“Helping me find my wife.”
“Going back there, are we?” Kennett gave a sly smile along with a wink. “Can’t just accept my altruism, eh?”
“Not really. No. So how about you tell me the truth?”
“The truth?” Kennett’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s a good one, Mike. Okay. All right. Let’s talk truth.”
Michael shifted uneasily in his seat.
“Your mother. Tell me about her.”
“My mother?”
“Yeah, my mom died of cancer, too.”
If Kennett was still grieving, it didn’t show on his face or in his voice.
“I’m sorry to hear.”
“It’s not your doing,” Kennett said with an indifferent shrug. “Eventually, we all end up in the same place, right? Some of us just get there quicker is all. So what was it?”
“What was what?”
“The cancer. What kind?”
“Um, breast cancer,” Michael said, fumbling for the words. “It was extremely aggressive.”
“Sorry to hear,” said Kennett.
“Not your doing,” Michael replied, which coaxed out another slight smile from his companion.
“She died when you were in college, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right. It was tough.”
“I bet it was,” said Kennett. He spoke languidly, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “Where’d you go to school?”
“University of Oregon.”
“U of O!” Kennett’s expression brightened as he rapped his knuckles several times against the table. “The Ducks.”
“Go Ducks,” Michael responded unenthusiastically.
“So, you grew up near there?”
“No, I, um, grew up in Charleston.”
“South Carolina, a Southern boy.”
Michael’s stomach tightened.
Where was this going?
“Never been to Charleston,” Kennett continued. “Nice place?”
“You should go,” Michael said. “The city has great restaurants, pristine beaches. Yeah, I’d say a pretty nice place to visit. Even better place to live.”
“But not nice enough for college.” Kennett offered his assessment dryly.
Michael bit down hard on his burger.
“I wanted to see a different coast.”
“So tell me, did you go to the West Coast looking for your father?”
“My dad?”
“Yeah, you told me he walked out on you when you were young. Maybe you thought he headed west, so you went looking.”
Hometown. College. Parents. This wasn’t good.
“No, I never saw my father again after he left us.”
“Not even after your mom died? Didn’t he come back for the funeral? What a heartless prick, right?”
“Maybe he didn’t hear. Why are you so interested in my family? My past?”
Kennett had no qualms about talking while he was chewing.
“Just making conversation, bud,” he said, his words coming out garbled. “What else are we going to do on the road? Would you rather tackle the word search on the kids’ menu?”
“I just think it’s curious you’re so inquisitive about my life, is all.”
“What do you want to talk about, then?” asked Kennett.
Since Michael was using Kennett as a means to an end, he thought it best to shift the focus away from him and back onto Natalie.
“How about finding my wife. What’s our next move?”
“You got that list of friends and family? How many of them have you called?”
From the pocket of his jeans, Michael fished out a folded piece of paper. There were some fifty names on it, addresses too, mostly older friends and relatives he’d sourced from Harvey and Lucinda. Half the names were crossed out.
“I’ve gone over this list repeatedly and called every name we both knew. The rest don’t live anywhere near Ohio.”
Michael slid the paper over to Kennett, who studied it intently.
“Good detective work here, Mike,” Kennett said, as he scanned the list. “The job looks glamorous to outsiders, but really it’s a lot of gumshoe and tedium. I say call them all, even the ones living far away from here. They may know somebody you don’t, might give us a new lead.”
“Right,” Michael said. He took the list from Kennett, slipped it back into his pocket.
They finished their food, eating mostly in silence. Michael kept ruminating on Kennett’s keen interest in his past. Was it all just small talk? He couldn’t decide. But from experience, Michael knew the inherent risks that came with keeping secrets. Secrets had the potential to make even the most innocent things—a comment, a look, an innocuous gesture from another—feel like a threat.
A waitress, still light on her feet after Michael had seen her bounding about from table to table, stopped by to check on her customers.
“Anything else, boys?” she said in a singsong voice.
“All set,” said Michael. “Just the check, please.”