Miyuki woke up covered in sweat. She stumbled to Kiri’s room and stared into the emptiness. She closed the door, walked to Jenna’s room, and sat down on her bed. She put the T-shirts and sweatpants she had folded into the drawer and listened to the silence. That was why she couldn’t sleep.
She kept expecting the detectives to wake her with news. They were in the living room with her cellphone and passcode in case any calls came in. She smoothed the covers and thought about the enjoy nature field trip the two girls wouldn’t be on.
She called the school to tell them—in a tight, fake voice—that both girls had a fever and would miss the field trip. She called her boss and told him she had a fever, assuring him she would answer emails all day on her work phone and iPad.
She went to the bathroom, dropped her sweat-drenched clothes in the hamper, and got in the shower. She let the water run until her skin turned red and her fear and fury turned to dry-eyed determination. “God fucking damn you, Patrick!” she screamed in English. Japanese had plenty of swear words, but few things were as satisfying as yelling, “Fuck you!” in English.
She toweled off, blow-dried her hair, careful not to look at herself, and went back to her empty bedroom. She wrote a message to Patrick, then deleted it. Clutching her cellphone, she leaned backwards on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her eyes closed and she gave up trying to stop her mind spinning.
She hadn’t slept until then.
When she woke, she was surprised at the time and rushed to the closet, choosing a plain black skirt and black blouse—mourning clothes—with no makeup, a simple ponytail and a single strand of small pearls.
She found the detectives snoozing on the sofa, her sofa, the family’s sofa. Did they think she was going to make them tea? She wasn’t. The two detectives stirred at the sound of the door from the bedroom hallway.
Ignoring the detectives, she walked to where her mother had died and stared at the spot. It made her want to cry and curse all over again.
One of the detectives came over and Miyuki spoke to him without turning her head. “I’ve got to go to my lawyer’s office. One of the detectives is meeting me there.”
“We heard that. We’ll drive you.” The detective turned to look for instructions from his superior rousing himself on the sofa.
“Just find my daughters.” She checked to be sure Taiga’s cellphone and her prayer beads were in her purse next to her iPad and phone. She slipped on her shoes at the genkan, and hurried out.
When she got to Tamura Legal Offices, her lawyer, Tamura, came out to the waiting room with a deep bow and formal condolences. He ushered her in to his office. His desk was centered in front of a picture window that looked down the hill toward the new buildings and nightlife streets of Akasaka.
Tamura’s bookshelves were half law books and half baseball memorabilia. His team had made it to the high school finals at Koshien Stadium, the sacred ground of baseball. He mentioned this every time she talked to him, but if he mentioned it today, she’d scream.
She settled into the chair and set her plain black purse beside her. Her iPad jiggled and she pulled it out to read the email from the bank. She dropped it back in her purse without answering. “When are the detectives coming?”
Tamura bowed again. “I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do, tell me right away.”
Miyuki looked away. “Help me with the interview with the detectives.”
Tamura nodded.
“And I need you to do a few things about Patrick. Can we get to work?”
“Of course. Let’s finish an inning or two before the police get here.” Tamura took out a notepad and leaned forward. “If you really think it was Patrick who took the girls, we need to—”
“It was him.” It had to be. She refused to think otherwise. “I want to make sure he can’t cross any border without being picked up.”
“That requires an international red notice from Interpol.”
“Well, do that.”
Tamura nodded.
“And I want all the credit cards and bank accounts frozen.” She dug in her bag for a sheet of paper with all the relevant information.
Tamura took the sheet from her and spread it out on his desk. “The detectives might want those left open to track him.”
Miyuki fidgeted. “Well, then, after we find the girls, I want him to live with nothing again. No money, no credit card, no accounts, nothing.”
“He’ll be in prison.” Tamura held his pen over his notepad like a bat over home plate.
Miyuki didn’t answer. From the elevation of the hill where his office was, a wide view of Tokyo opened to the horizon. The buildings faded into shades of gray that lightened and darkened as far as she could see.
Miyuki dug in her small black purse for Taiga’s cellphone. “I need an address, and can you have this phone unlocked for me?”
Tamura didn’t ask whose address or phone it was and called his secretary to take care of both right away. “And what about your mother’s funeral arrangements?”
“One of my classmates married the director of a funeral service and crematorium. They divorced, but he, or actually his family, will help. He’s an old friend.”
His secretary buzzed the intercom, startling them both.
“Show them in,” Tamura said into the intercom.
Hiroshi and Takamatsu came in. Miyuki took her bag and set it on Tamura’s desk and pulled her chair around to face them, but didn’t stand or bow.
Takamatsu took off his camel hair coat and folded it carefully over his arm. Hiroshi kept his coat on, in hopes they’d get done quickly. Hiroshi offered his condolences to Miyuki for losing her mother and sat down.
Takamatsu took the chair opposite Miyuki, from where he could study her.
Tamura pulled his chair from behind his desk after exchanging meishi name cards with Hiroshi. Tamura’s secretary came in with a notepad and sat on a chair to the side.
Hiroshi started. “We just have a few questions that will hopefully—”
“Did you find anything about my daughters?” Miyuki interrupted.
“We are working on it. There is no way the perpetrator—”
“My husband.” Miyuki smoothed her black dress.
“Your husband. All airports and Shinkansen entry points are being watched. We’re reviewing surveillance camera footage. Probably the biggest help will come from you.”
Miyuki nodded. “There’s the credit card and bank account information.”
Tamura handed the paper to Hiroshi. He took a photo and handed it back.
Hiroshi looked at Miyuki. “You filed for divorce, but what reasons did you have?”
“Infidelity.” Miyuki reached in her bag and pulled out a plain envelope and handed it to Hiroshi.
Tamura got up to see the photos. He sucked air in through his teeth.
Hiroshi and Takamatsu leaned forward.
Miyuki looked away.
In the first photo, Patrick had his arms wrapped around an attractive woman with thick blonde hair and dimples. The next showed Patrick and the same blonde in front of a long bar with a stuffed moose head, a huge mirror, and shelves of bottles. The next one showed them embracing on the porch of a house.
“How did these arrive?” Hiroshi asked.
“The first ones came in the mail in that envelope with no return address.” Miyuki pulled out her iPad and scrolled through. “These came to my work email address.” Miyuki handed her iPad to Hiroshi. “I hired a private investigator to check on it, but he didn’t manage clear photos like these.”
Hiroshi handed the paper photos to Takamatsu and forwarded the iPad photos to his own address, and to Akiko in the office. He handed the iPad back.“We have just a few more questions.”
“What more do you need to know to find my girls?” Her voice came out in a sharp, raised pitch.
Hiroshi thought she was going to continue, but she stopped herself.
Miyuki reached into her purse and pulled out a small set of prayer beads, the kind for funerals and memorial services, red tiger eye beads tied with fine silk thread. “I’m sorry. I’ll do anything to get the girls back.”
Hiroshi nodded. “Can you tell me where you found your babysitter?”
Miyuki turned the prayer beads in her hand. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s in the police hospital in Nakano. He’s in a coma, an induced one, but he’ll recover.”
“Um, an agency that specializes in foreign families. Of course. I wanted someone who spoke both English and Japanese.”
“What did he do for you exactly?”
“Is he a suspect?”
“We have to ask about everything.”
“Taiga picked the girls up at school and stayed with them until I got home from work. He was studying too, so they all three studied together. He helped the girls feel comfortable being half-Japanese, half-not, switching between languages, thinking differently.”
“What was the name of the agency?”
“Global Minding, or something like that. I have the number at home.”
“Not in your phone?”
“It was on a meishi a friend gave me.” She flipped the beads around again. They clacked when she got to the end of one count.
“And Taiga had been taking care of them—”
“The same as always.” Her beads clacked.
“You didn’t notice anything unusual in his behavior?”
Miyuki shook her head and flipped the beads around her wrist.
“Can you tell us about your work at the bank?”
Miyuki twisted the beads and leaned back in her chair. “I’m an account manager.”
“What kind of accounts?”
“Mid-size companies and individuals with sufficient-sized accounts.”
“Do you facilitate overseas transfers outside Japan?”
“I’m more on the side of domestic accounts, making sure everything’s running smoothly.” Her tablet buzzed inside her purse and she pointed at it. “Excuse me.” She checked her incoming messages, sighed, and dropped it back into her purse.
“And about Patrick, who were his closest friends here in Tokyo?”
Miyuki sat up and fingered the beads, clacking them a bit louder. “Kyle was his best friend.”
Hiroshi prompted her after a moment. “What’s Kyle’s last name?”
“Kyle Shawcross. Best man at our wedding.”
“We’ll need to talk to him. Can you give us the number?”
She pushed the beads up on her arm and got her phone out, scrolled down until she found it and held out the contact information.
“Is there anyone else Patrick could rely on in Tokyo?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“Was there any change in your relationship after your husband left for Wyoming—”
“He got busy with work. Stopped answering calls as quickly. We’d never been apart, and I couldn’t get over there with the girls and work. He said it’d just be a month, but it stretched to six, and then I got the photos.”
“Were you fighting?”
“We gave up fighting when the girls arrived. That was the problem.”
“Was he unhappy here in Tokyo?”
“No more than any foreigner who never learns much Japanese.”
“He didn’t speak Japanese at all?”
“He could order at a restaurant, but he couldn’t read or catch the TV news. But he loved Tokyo, loved the girls. I thought he loved me.”
“Was his work mainly with foreigners?”
“Other people at Nine Dragons handled Japanese clients, especially his boss.” Miyuki twisted the prayer beads.
“Do you mean his boss, Joseph Leung, handled the Japanese clients?”
“That’s what Patrick told me.”
Hiroshi leaned forward. “Did you know that Joseph Leung was murdered?”
Miyuki pulled her hands up and the string of prayer beads broke, sending the tiger eye beads exploding over her black dress and onto the floor.
Everyone leaned down to pick them up and the interview was over.