“Of course it is. Why? Do you think I’d lie to you? It’s all true, Kate.”
To drive home her point, Natalie showed Kate her correspondence with Marjorie Saunders that confirmed every bit of her story. Any lingering doubts Kate may have harbored regarding the veracity of Natalie’s story were swept away by the barrage of corroborating evidence—including a picture of young Joseph Jacob Saunders being led away in handcuffs.
Kate put her hand to her mouth, a stunned look on her face.
“What is it?” Natalie asked, sensing her friend’s distress.
“I’ve done something,” said Kate.
Natalie’s stomach tightened.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“You’ve been acting so off. Seeing things, hearing things, and then Chuck and I found out that Michael had reported you missing, and included in that report was mention of your insomnia and that you might be delusional.”
Kate cut short anything more she had to say. She wrung her hands together with nervous apprehension.
“What did you do?” Natalie repeated, speaking slowly, holding back her panic.
“I called your mother,” Kate confessed, blurting out the words. “I got her number. She’s been posting about you online, so it wasn’t hard to find her. I was worried about you, and the kids, and your mental health and—”
“No!” Natalie was up from her chair in a flash. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me, Kate. Tell me it’s not true.”
“I’m so sorry, Nat. I didn’t understand. Given everything I—”
“You thought I was lying about Michael? You thought I made up a story about him being a murderer?”
“It just seemed you weren’t all right, emotionally that is.”
“What did my mom say?”
Kate bit at her lower lip, deepening the grimace on her face.
“She told me she was going to get in touch with Michael. She called back some time later to tell me he was with someone, a policeman, and they were coming here, to our farm to get you.”
“A policeman?” Natalie huffed. “That’s a good one. Michael wants me dead. Oh, Kate, why, why, why did you do that?”
Kate’s eyes held much sorrow.
“I was frightened for you,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“When?” Natalie barked, snapping back into herself. “When did you make that call?”
“I called right around lunchtime while I was at the vet.”
Natalie frowned, hating that answer.
“Where was he? Do you know? Did my mother say?”
She loomed over Kate who sat dazed, absolutely still.
Natalie collapsed to her knees.
“Where is Michael?”
“Your mom called back, told me he was just outside Indianapolis,” Kate said. “He was coming from Toledo.”
“Toledo, of course he was,” Natalie muttered to herself. She didn’t bother explaining to Kate that it was her ruse that had sent him there.
“Evidently, Michael had already figured out you were staying here. He was driving to Elsberry when your mother reached him.”
“He’s been on the road most of the day,” Natalie realized. “That means he could be here any minute now.”
“Chuck knew I was going to call your mom,” Kate continued, still trying to justify her actions. “He encouraged it. He was worried about you, same as I was.”
“Well, now you can both worry a whole lot more,” Natalie retorted as she rushed out of the room.
“Where are you going?” asked Kate, following behind. “Please, talk to me.”
They were three-quarters of the way up the stairs. Natalie whirled around, sending Kate a fierce glare.
“You want to help me?” she said. “Go get my kids. I’ll pack their stuff. I need your truck.”
“Where are you going?” asked Kate.
“I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for days now,” said Natalie with bitterness. “I’m going to run.”
CHAPTER 39
MICHAEL
It took two tries before Michael found the small white sign advertising the entrance to Hildonen Farms. He drove too fast down a rutted dirt road, avoiding potholes and rocks like he was in a video game. Kennett’s probing gaze scanned in all directions as if he expected Natalie to emerge from the dense forest lining the road. Michael caught his squinting stare in his peripheral vision. He seemed troubled by something.
“What’s on your mind?” Michael asked, his eyes on the road ahead.
“Dust,” said Kennett.
“What?”
Michael drove over a large rock that sent him bouncing and caused his seat belt to lock tight.
“Dust,” Kennett repeated, sounding troubled for reasons Michael didn’t understand.
“What about?” asked Michael.
“It’s in the air in front of us,” said Kennett.
“And? We’re on a dirt road. I think that’s to be expected.”
Kennett pointed to the trees whizzing by on Michael’s left.
“No wind,” he said.
Michael still wasn’t getting it. Kennett’s musings, as well as this road that seemed to stretch on forever, were both trying his patience.
“A car came through here, Mike,” Kennett explained, speaking as if he were giving a weak student the answer. “It was going fast, too, I suspect. Can’t say if it was coming or going, but all the dust means it couldn’t have been that long ago.”
Michael would have asked Kennett to elaborate, but just then the road brought them to a wide clearing, from which he could see both cow-dotted pastures and a white farmhouse not far up ahead. It was a beautiful vista, resplendent as a pastoral painting.
Natalie was here, hiding out from him. What did she know? What had she told Kate? For the entirety of the drive, Kennett hadn’t once mentioned the name Brianna Sykes, and yet Michael sensed it was on his mind, a shadow lurking just below the surface.
Michael pushed his worries aside—he still needed Kennett’s help. They drove up to the house and exited the car together, like partners accustomed to the routine of answering dispatch calls. Kennett did up the button of his blazer, his focus switching between the farmhouse in front of them and the dust cloud still clinging to the air.
As they approached the house, a stout blond woman trotted down the front stairs. Michael assumed this was Kate, but he couldn’t say for sure. There were too many years and miles between them for that kind of clarity, not to mention his dim recollections of anyone but Natalie from the night they met. The woman came outside as though she’d been waiting at the door, expecting their arrival. Michael found her eagerness disconcerting.
The woman greeted Michael and Kennett at the halfway point between their car and the house.
“Hi there,” she said, her voice bright as the midday sun.
Too bright, too chipper.
Kennett sent Michael a telling glance. She’s hiding something, that look said. Michael may have missed the dust clue entirely, but being around Kennett offered him some sort of detecting ability by osmosis.
“Hey there,” said Kennett before flashing his badge. “Are you Kate Hildonen?”
“I am,” said Kate, still cheery.