Nathan Googles “missing persons BK.” The number he needs is for the Missing Persons Squad, which feels like something a television show would make up. He tells his story to the officer who picks up, and the officer does not scoff at him. In fact, he sounds concerned. He says that a detective will be by shortly to investigate. Nathan gives his address, and the officer says, “Thank you, sir.”
Denise wants to stay, but Nathan asks her to leave. He says, “They’ll ask who you are.” She says, “I’m an old friend of the family.” Nathan says, “Yes, but my face will tell the cops what else you are.” Denise gives in and gathers her belongings. Nathan washes their two coffee cups and leaves one out to dry; the other he puts away in the cabinet. Before she goes, Denise manages to tell Nathan about what she found. “Is that normal?” she asks. Nathan has no answer. She leaves, and Nathan examines the pink armoire in the basement, and it’s as Denise described. The doorbell rings. He pulls the tarp back over the evidence and turns off the basement light. The money he leaves in the shoebox.
Nathan opens the front door. A man in a suit and a uniformed officer stand on the stoop. A camera on a strap hangs from the officer’s neck.
He cannot tell them about the basement. What will the police think? What will the police do? Nathan reminds himself that Marion always comes home.
So he eagerly welcomes the police into his home. The man in the suit identifies himself as a detective, and Nathan offers them coffee, tea, water, anything. The detective says he’ll have a glass of water. Nathan turns to the officer with an open face, but the young man shakes his head. “No?” Nathan says, and goes to the kitchen.
He returns with the water, and the detective asks Nathan if his family has cats. Nathan says they don’t, and the detective nods and seats himself in an armchair. The officer sits on a piano bench and takes out a notepad. The detective fidgets in his suit, which is not expensive, nor tailored. Nathan is happy in his jeans and T-shirt, as he always is when he talks to a man in a suit.
The detective sneezes into a tissue and asks, “So, what happened?” Nathan tells the detective the same story he told Denise, but with less swearing. The next questions are: Why did you wait so long to report your wife as missing? Do you think your wife has left you? Where do you think she would go?
Nathan replies that he does believe his wife has left him, but there has been no contact and no one knows where she is, and that’s odd. He feels he has to be safe but also doesn’t want to waste the police’s time. He doesn’t believe anything is really wrong, but as he says this, he thinks of the pink armoire. He’s checked all the places she might go, and she’s not there. Nathan answers questions about his wife’s mental history, not that there is one beyond the occasional intense mood swing. Some depression runs in her family. The officer takes notes while the detective sits uncomfortably in the chair, his ankles almost daintily crossed and his belly spilling a little over his belt. Nathan might be tempted to dismiss the detective, but he looked at Nathan sharply when he thought about the armoire.
“What was your wife wearing the last time you saw her?” the detective asks.
“A nightgown. She’d have changed her clothes. My daughters would know.”
“They were the last to see Mrs. Palm, correct? So I’ll need to talk to them.”
“Really? I don’t want to worry them.”
“They’re not worried now?”
“I think they think Marion is visiting a friend,” Nathan says slowly.
“You think,” the detective repeats.
“We haven’t really been talking about it.”
“I’ll be very tactful.”
Nathan realizes he has no choice and so grants his permission. “Well, they’ll be home soon. They’re at school.”
The detective asks if he and the officer can take a look around, and Nathan says of course. Instead of leading them to the basement, to the strange evidence, he takes them to the second floor, to his and Marion’s bedroom. Nathan shows the detective the closet. “So she didn’t take much with her,” he says, hiding the fact that Marion took nothing with her with the word much. The detective says, “Huh.” The officer takes pictures.
“Is there any reason your wife might have left you?”
Nathan’s mouth goes dry. “Not that I can think of. But, well, she’s done this before.”
“When was that?” the detective asks, knowing all about it. There’s a record of Nathan’s previous call.
“Ginny was maybe seven, so six years ago? She disappeared for a couple of days. She just needs the time sometimes. I guess she needs the time away from me.”
“Is that what you think is happening?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“So she’ll come back.”
“Won’t she? Isn’t that the pattern?” Nathan asks the detective, and what he’s really asking is, Don’t wives occasionally do this?
When the girls arrive home, the detective trundles down to the first floor, taking careful steps in his large black orthopedic shoes, and scares the hell out of both of them. He asks each girl separately about the last time she saw her mother. Neither mentions the check at the Greek diner. Jane doesn’t like to think about it but isn’t sure her mother did anything wrong. Ginny knows but won’t tell.
Before he leaves, the detective has a quiet conversation alone with Nathan in the kitchen about the reality of missing persons. He will post a picture of Marion online, along with a description of her physical attributes. He now has a description of her clothes from Ginny. He’ll file a report and he’ll look into her credit activity, but there is very little the police can do when foul play is not suspected.
“Is there anything you can tell me that would contradict that? Should we be concerned?”
Nathan should show them the basement, he knows, but he’s seen too much television. He thinks he will be suspected of harming his wife. He decides to show them half of the evidence. He leads the detective to the washer and dryer, to a green shoebox that once held a new pair of sneakers for Ginny. Nathan opens the lid and shows the detective the cash.
“Why do you think this is here?” the detective asks.
“It’s probably just for emergencies,” Nathan says.
“But you didn’t know about it?”
“My wife handles the finances.”
The detective scratches his neck but thinks that this box of cash is not enough. He must take into consideration Marion’s habit of taking time off from her marriage. This seems like a private matter. He’ll still look, he says. But if the police do find Marion Palm, he can only report to Nathan that she is safe. He won’t be able to tell him where she is. She’s an adult, he says, and this is America.
“Can you give her a message if you find her?” Nathan asks.
“Sure,” the detective says.
“Remind her that she has children ages thirteen and eight and they would like to see their mother.”