“I have some more questions,” Ouyang said to Michael, “but I’m going to wait for Detective Kennett to get down here before asking them.”
To her credit, Ouyang seemed to welcome the help, didn’t seem at all annoyed by her supervisor’s imminent arrival, which came twenty minutes after ending her phone call with him.
Detective Sergeant Amos Kennett (that was how he introduced himself) had that grizzled look of a seasoned vet, weathered face, dark hair, and hooded eyes that seemed to carry the weight of his caseload, all of which pleased Michael who believed experience was needed here. He soon realized, however, that this perceived advantage worked against him too, for it appeared, judging solely by the look Kennett sent Michael’s way upon entering the back office, that he’d arrived already wary of the husband.
The detective greeted Michael with a tepid hello, which came out sounding more like “H’lo.” And while he did express his sympathies, Kennett never really warmed up, as if his dark goatee was there to prevent his mouth from forming a smile.
To Michael’s relief, Kennett eschewed small talk in favor for getting right down to it. He asked to watch the video of the security camera footage, and did so with his blue blazer off, revealing a shoulder holster and gun combo that served as reminders of Michael’s grave situation.
Kennett sat transfixed during the viewing, offering no commentary. After it was over, Michael let out a long, audible exhale, emotionally spent from seeing his family on video for a second time. His thoughts were muddled, but he gave himself some credit: he hadn’t broken down crying, even though that’s exactly what he wanted to do. When he glanced over at Kennett, he thought maybe he’d get a genuine show of support. Instead he read judgment in the detective sergeant’s piercing stare. By contrast, Ouyang, who had seemed quite harsh after she first saw the video, now appeared far softer and sympathetic. With the arrival of her boss, the roles were clearly defined. Ouyang would be the empathetic of the pair. Michael’s mind flashed on the old trope of good cop/bad cop, with Kennett being the latter.
“So, Mike,” Kennett said, with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and accusation. “Any reason why your wife appears to be running away from you? That’s what it looks like to you, too, right? Like she’s heading back out of town and didn’t bother to tell you where she was going, or why. So…” Kennett clapped his hands together like an audible exclamation mark. “Why do you think that is?”
Michael swallowed a gulp. He tried to keep his face muscles relaxed to hide his fear.
“Did you two have a fight?” Ouyang asked. “Are you under any extra stress at home? Financial problems, maybe an affair, anything like that?”
For a moment, Michael was left speechless. His guilty conscience took over as he thought back to the many times in recent months when he lost his temper. He never touched Natalie and the kids, but one incident from long ago in particular haunted him still. He knew he had frightened Natalie, revealing to her a darker side of himself that he normally could keep suppressed.
“No,” he said, with some bite in his voice. He didn’t enjoy being put on the defensive. “I told you already, she’s been dealing with insomnia. I don’t think she’s in her right mind. She shouldn’t be alone with the kids. This could be a dangerous situation for them.”
A fierce sense of foreboding sank into Michael’s bones. Nothing made sense.
Except it did, didn’t it? And if he was right, if his suspicions were confirmed, it involved the worst thing possible.
The truth.
“Look, Mike, there’s not much we can do here,” Kennett said matter-of-factly. “Last I checked, America is a free country and your wife can do as she pleases.”
“But she has my kids,” lamented Michael.
“Our kids, you mean,” Ouyang chimed in. “As in her kids, too. And in the eyes of the law, that’s kind of how it’s supposed to be.”
“You two don’t have a custody arrangement, do you?” Kennett asked.
Michael swiveled in his chair. Facing Kennett, he did his best to ignore the steady thump in his chest.
“We’re not divorced or separated,” he said. He didn’t mean to come off sounding irritated and snippy, but he wasn’t feeling particularly in control at that moment. “What I mean to say is we’re married. I told you that.”
Kennett offered a shrug in return.
“I’m not a lawyer, Michael,” he said. “Can’t really advise you on what to do here. But I do know the laws around kidnapping pretty well, and I don’t believe your wife has broken any of them.”
“Until there is a court order changing the circumstance, both you and your wife enjoy equal rights to the care, custody, and control of your kids,” Ouyang added.
Michael was sure he misheard.
“I don’t think I follow,” he said. His voice shook. “She can just … what? Up and leave me … with my children? Just take off like that?”
Ouyang did up a button on her blazer. Time to go.
“All I can tell you, Michael, is that right now you need a lawyer, not a detective.”
She handed him her card.
“But if you need me for anything, feel free to call my cell. The number is on here.”
Kennett slipped on his blazer, did up a button as well.
“Same goes for me, Mike,” he said, handing over one of his cards. He plastered on a phony smile.
“I don’t get it,” Michael said to Kennett. “Detective Ouyang must have told you what was going on. Why did you bother coming here if you knew you couldn’t help? Why get my hopes up like that?”
“Because this whole thing is kind of strange, Mike,” Kennett said somewhat brusquely. “Even if your wife didn’t break the law, at least not yet, it’s unusual what’s happened here, and it’s good for detectives to team up when things take a surprising turn. Less chance of us missing something important. But right now, we don’t have much to go on. Unless you’ve got something else you’d like to share with us. Do you, Mike? Have something else to share?”
Michael became acutely aware of his closed-off body language, and uncrossed his arms. Did he look shifty and uncertain? Was that the vibe he was giving off? These detectives had enough skills and resources to make things extremely complicated for him.
“I don’t have anything else to tell you that you don’t already know,” said Michael.
Kennett’s slim smile said: I don’t believe you.
“Very well, Mike. We have pictures, better than descriptions. We’ll keep a lookout and be in touch if we get any leads. We’re happy to help you file a missing persons report, too. Though you should do that with your hometown police. Most police departments want you to wait twenty-four hours before filing, but I can make a call, push that along if need be.”
“Why the waiting period?”
“Usually missing persons turn up, often it’s a miscommunication or a fight, and so police try to cut down on needless paperwork.”
Kennett didn’t project much confidence that Michael’s case would be of the sort-itself-out variety.
“Can I ask a favor of you before you go?” Michael said to Kennett.