Michael had a flashback to their arrival, how the kids had struggled with the revolving door (who doesn’t, with luggage?) He figured his children would want to go out the “moving door,” as Bryce called it, probably after taking a couple extra spins around. But he could see this departure wasn’t any fun. Natalie propped open a side door with her back, motioning urgently for Addie and Bryce to pass that way.
Why that door? Michael asked himself. Because she’s in a hurry, that’s why. She has someplace she has to be. But where? He couldn’t say, but as her head swiveled toward the camera, he could see there was tension on her face. What about?
Then it came to him: she was concerned he’d come back with pizza in time to see them all leaving.
Every second seemed to matter. There were a lot of bodies and luggage to maneuver, but Natalie did so in a calm and purposeful way. She did everything with intention. To Michael she looked clearheaded, not the least bit frazzled. It appeared to be, in a word, rehearsed.
Outside, in the carport, Michael could see his family more clearly. He didn’t see fear in his children’s eyes, though they did seem somewhat bewildered. They were looking about cautiously, taking in their surroundings. Or maybe they were searching for someone … perhaps even their father.
Whatever was going through Bryce’s mind, he didn’t seem to be aware that Teddy wasn’t with him.
There was a black sedan parked curbside. The burly driver jumped out when he saw Natalie approach, and immediately set to work putting the suitcases into the open trunk. Their brief exchange wasn’t without significance, Michael realized. The driver would have had no idea Natalie was his passenger unless it was prearranged.
Addison opened the rear door and climbed into the backseat, dragging Bryce inside with her. Natalie said something to the driver that the video didn’t capture, and then calmly, purposefully, got into the rear with the kids. She closed her own door. The driver clambered back into the front seat.
A second later, they were gone.
Dan hit pause on the playback. Michael sat with it, processing what he’d just seen. It was Detective Ouyang who eventually broke the silence.
“Well, that sure was enlightening,” she said. “I’d say, based on clear video evidence, that your wife is of sound mind and body. Looks to me, Michael, like she left this hotel willingly, of her own accord. Left you the same way.”
Michael, too stunned to speak, searched his mind for any justification.
Someone had contacted her. She was being manipulated remotely by this person, blackmailed or coerced somehow. There’s a threat nobody knows about. He thought about trying out his theory on the detective, but already it rang false in his head.
“Any reason your wife might have wanted to leave you, Michael, and take the kids with her?” Detective Ouyang asked.
Yes, Michael thought. There’s a reason.… a damn good one.
But not one he could ever share.
CHAPTER 5
NATALIE
BEFORE SHE DISAPPEARED
She could ignore most noises at work.
Over the course of seven years with the company, the muted chatter of Natalie’s Dynamic Media colleagues had morphed into something akin to white noise. The sound of fingers tapping keyboards with the rhythm of woodpeckers also went unnoticed. Same for the noisy footsteps that carried far and wide because the firm had opted to go young with their design aesthetic—open plan, upscale flooring, an industrial feel. The youthful interior paired well with the employees, the majority of whom looked young enough to get carded. Their mobile devices chirped incessantly, but Natalie had learned to tune out the intrusive sounds—unless, of course, that chirping occurred during one of her meetings. Then, look out.
What caught Natalie’s ear that afternoon was a sound unlike any she’d heard at work before. It was soft and plaintive, bereft. The sound of a woman weeping.
Natalie was on her way to the seventh-floor kitchenette to get coffee for her afternoon fix. Or was it hourly? There was a time, it felt like ages ago, when she had been a morning coffee drinker only. Now she was probably downing eight cups a day and afraid to go to the doctor. If she found out that caffeine was killing her, she might die on the spot. It was the only thing keeping her from becoming a full-blown zombie.
The seventh floor wasn’t her usual domain, but she had ventured up for a two thirty meeting. Floor seven was where the finance department dwelled, while Natalie worked on four with the “creatives” and other account managers. She knew the layout of seven though—and specifically, where to find the kitchenette—because Tina Langley, her best friend at Dynamic Media, worked on this level. Tina actually ran the finance department, and considering how much money was going to be at stake at the two thirty meeting, it was no surprise they were spearheading the call.
Natalie poked her head into the kitchenette, where her eyes confirmed what her ears told her she would find: a woman in tears. The woman had her back to the entrance, her hands pressed against the red laminate countertop as if needing the support to remain upright. She had on a gray turtleneck tucked into a black skirt that called attention to her narrow waist and thin frame. Her auburn-tinged hair, cut stylishly short, was like a nod to Audrey Hepburn. A flash of jealousy passed through Natalie, more reflex than conscious thought, but just as quickly, empathy returned.
I should help.
But Natalie did not help. Instead, she stood awkwardly in the entranceway watching this private moment with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty. Should she turn and go, leave the poor woman alone with her misery? No. Caring was in Natalie’s DNA. If she hadn’t gone into marketing, Natalie would have been equally content working as a therapist. In some ways, especially when dealing with her more difficult-to-manage clients, Natalie was that and more.
While she felt an urge to rush in and offer assistance, something held her back. A number of thoughts flew in and out of her mind: does this woman even want help? Maybe she needs time to cry it out?
Considering how much crying Natalie had been doing lately, she ought to have known how to help, but still she hesitated. She eventually decided that if the roles were reversed, she’d want someone to check on her, so that settled it.
Natalie cleared her throat, and the woman turned to face her. She was stunned. This wasn’t a pretty woman. She was downright gorgeous. Her facial features were as delicate as porcelain, especially those high cheekbones, which would easily catch the attention of any casting director. The whites of her eyes might have been red from crying, but the blue of her irises shimmered like sequins. Judging by her smooth, unblemished face, Natalie thought she must be around ten years her junior. She also had to be new on the job. This place had a way of aging a person.
Embarrassed, the woman gave a slight gasp before offering an awkward smile.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, sniffling and looking guilty, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong. She used a balled-up napkin to dab at her eyes. “I’m…” Her voice caught in her throat. She gave a laugh and dabbed those blue eyes some more.
“Are you all right?” Natalie asked.