Follow your intuition. Trust that sixth sense of yours—that’s what my female instructor from the academy told me when I was doing a simulation search and seizure drill. It doesn’t always make sense at the time but trust those tiny signals your body gives you. Fear is a friend you don’t want to get rid of, she’d said.
I never forgot those words. But even though I wanted to listen, to follow my gut this time, I just couldn’t. There was nothing in Martin Nesbitt’s apartment or truck, besides the shoes he now claimed belonged to his niece, that would indicate a child lived there. The bedspread in the master bedroom was neat, with gold-colored embroidery and mountains of pillows at the head of it. There was an extra bedroom, but it didn’t appear to belong to a child. No kid-sized beds or tiny shoes. No little landmines of toys.
I opened drawers and cabinets. I inspected the bathroom for baby soaps or powders, a miniature toothbrush, anything to make me think a child had been here recently…nothing.
There was a his and hers closet in the master; one side held what appeared to be Martin’s clothes: fancy silk shirts, polo pants, ties…and the other side was full of women’s clothes. I closed my eyes, clenching and unclenching my jaw, trying to melt from the room and remember every detail about Nova when I met with her at the cabin. She was wearing that pink robe and lacy undergarments. She was a handsome woman with a trim figure, and the neat dresses and slacks on the hangers seemed to fit her small frame and style, as far as I could tell. Why did she leave it all behind? I wondered. The fact that she left so much made me believe her story…if she was truly afraid of this man, then she would only grab essentials and go…But where are Lily’s things? What sort of motivation would Martin have for covering up his daughter’s existence?
“Nova didn’t take her clothes with her. Or her shoes,” I mumbled, mostly to myself. I stared at the floor of the closet. There had to be fifty pairs of heels and flats and sneakers piled haphazardly on top of each other. No kid shoes, I noted again.
Martin spoke up, startling me. “I’m sure she took some things with her when she left. She has too much to keep track of. I like to spoil the women I’m with, if you know what I mean.”
He was standing in the doorframe of the bedroom. He gave me a sideways smile that almost looked seductive.
“Are you telling me you didn’t see her leave? I thought you’re the one who told her to go? Isn’t that what you said earlier?”
“I did tell her to leave. But I never thought she’d actually listen. I was surprised when I came home from work and realized she was gone.”
“So, can you give me a list of what you think she took with her? What about her cell phone? Do you have that here?” I knew damn well Nova didn’t have her cell phone. That was one of the first things she told me when I came to her house. I remembered that chintzy flip phone she had tucked away in the kitchen drawer.
Martin took slow strides toward me, his eyes focused intensely on mine as he drew in closer. Where the hell are Mike and Roland? I wondered, feeling my back stiffen.
“Your partners went out for a smoke break,” Martin said, as though he could read my mind.
I took a step back. Backing myself even further against the closet. I pressed my lips together, mashing my teeth in discomfort. Martin grinned. “I hope you’re not afraid of me. I really am a good guy. And I’m telling you the truth, scouts honor.” He stuck his arm out and I flinched involuntarily. “Just getting this.”
Martin reached across me and into the top of the closet, grabbing something off the shelf. I shuddered as his arm grazed my shoulder. “Here’s the cell phone you asked about.”
It was a sleek white iPhone, similar to the one I used. I was shaken, but I tried to hide it. I could kill Mike and Roland for leaving me alone in here with him, I thought.
“Thank you.” Awkwardly, I took the phone from his hand and pressed the home button. Nothing happened. Martin was still staring at me, making me uncomfortable. There was something odd about his demeanor…not the way a man with a missing wife should act, even if he’d fallen out of love with her.
“It’s dead. I can charge it though, if you want me to plug it in. I haven’t even looked at it…You probably think I’m a terrible husband, but Nova really was a handful.”
“I don’t think anything, sir. I’m just trying to figure out where she is, and why she reported a little girl missing who you claim doesn’t exist. I’m going to need your cell phone, too, and any other electronics you have in the house.”
Martin raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. His eyebrows were atrocious—wild and busy, like two fat caterpillars on his face. “Is that really necessary? I need my cell phone for work.” There was a slow, steady tick working on his right jaw.
“We’ll return it as soon as we can.” I stuck my hand out, palm up, waiting for him to turn it over. As he handed me his phone, he held on for a second too long, challenging my eyes with his own. I didn’t breathe or blink, I just waited for him to let go. What sort of game is he playing? I wondered. For someone whose wife recently went missing—whether they were on the heels of divorce or not—he shouldn’t be acting like this. And the way he seemed to enjoy making me uncomfortable while my male colleagues were out of the room, made me even more suspicious. Martin Nesbitt was covering up something, but what?
“I understand,” he said, finally. He let go and internally, I breathed a sigh of relief.
If Martin or Nova had something to hide, their phones were the best place to uncover it.