by Tamara Lush
* * *
I dressed carefully, in my nicest maternity dress—a navy blue wrap that looked professional yet was comfortable. I slipped on a pair of tan flats and a strand of pearls Caleb had given me the Christmas before. I didn’t bother with too much makeup—only a hint of lipstick—and I allowed my hair to be free.
I could do this. Taking a deep breath, I stepped back into my living room. There were more people from Caleb’s company here now. My normally airy space was crowded with people, coffee cups, soda cans, and laptops.
Nearly everyone paused to look up at me. I could see the worry and fear in their eyes, because after all, I was a hugely pregnant woman whose husband had gone missing on another continent. I forced a smile.
“Hi, everyone.” I used my most businesslike voice, projecting an aura of calm I didn’t feel inside. “What can I do to help?”
Laura rushed over and wrapped an arm around my waist. “You don’t need to do anything, sweetie. Relax.”
I shot her a hard stare. “You know I love you, but I can’t relax. I need to be doing something,” I said through a clenched jaw.
“Okay. Okay.” She squeezed her eyes tight, then opened them.
I rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.” I sighed, then hugged her. “Thank you for being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Sarah and Colin.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. We’re all trying to hold it together. I had to take an extra Valium this morning. It’s the only way I’m getting through this. Let me bring you up to speed.”
Laura detailed which private investigators they were thinking of hiring and how the King Group’s team in Brazil was attempting to meet with the top police brass in the city, in hopes of starting an investigation.
“Has anyone looked at the hotel surveillance cameras? Or the condo building surveillance video? I know Caleb mentioned the new building had cameras because he’d had to deal with a contractor issue there,” I said, trying to be helpful. “And why can’t they track his phone?”
“They’re working on it. The police need to be involved, and they’re still reluctant to open a case until twenty-four hours has passed.” Laura took notes and held up her pen, waving it at me. “Oh, and we’re going to call the media. We’re arranging interviews with Brazil outlets first. Colin will do the interviews, but you’re welcome to join him. One of Brazil’s biggest TV stations is sending their US correspondent up from Miami. They should be here soon. They’re a little reluctant to do anything now because he hasn’t been missing long, but I think we’ve convinced them.”
I swallowed hard. “Missing,” I whispered. “We’re now calling him missing?”
Laura nodded, and her eyes watered. Unable to continue the conversation, I turned and retreated to the bedroom, where I sat for a long time on my chaise, thinking of the day Caleb made love to me in our newly redecorated room.
“I don’t think I could love you any more than I do tonight,” he’d whispered. “And yet, I know I will love you more tomorrow, and the next day and every day after that.”
I stared out at the bright Florida day and, with my eyes overfull with tears, closed the curtains because I couldn’t stand the sunshine.
Chapter 10
The day went excruciatingly slow, with tiny, insignificant details revealed every hour or so. Caleb’s parents arrived in Brazil. They met up with the company’s team. They interviewed two top private investigators, and one was hired.
The police were still thinking about opening a case.
The glacial pace was maddening. If only I could fly to Brazil and see for myself where Caleb had last walked, then maybe I’d have a better idea of where he went. Of course, I knew this was the logic of the mad, but helplessness had settled into my chest and my panic level was rising by the second.
“His wallet and cellphone weren’t in the room,” his father told us on speakerphone. “We’re not sure what it means.”
No one was sure of anything, and I was sure I would die if they didn’t find Caleb soon. My arms started to itch, as if I was no longer comfortable in my skin.
“Put on a sweater,” Sarah said, eyeing me as I dug at my arms, red marks streaking down my pale skin.
My cellphone buzzed, and as I’d been doing all day, I dove for the device in a panic. It was the concierge, asking if the Brazilian TV crew could come up.
“Of course,” I said, breathless.
The crew turned out to be three men. A reporter, a camera operator, and a guy who held a fuzzy microphone on a stick. I drank tea and watched them arrange and point umbrella-looking lights at my gray sofa.
Colin stood next to me. “You should join me,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” I responded.
The reporter approached and guided us to the sofa. He explained where and how we should sit, then suggested I put on some lipstick.
“It will brighten your face up,” he suggested. I scowled at him.
Sarah, who was watching with her arms folded, scurried to get me lipstick and a mirror, and I shakily swiped on a layer of red.
“Gorgeous!” the reporter said, clipping a tiny microphone to the collar of my dress. Now I actively hated him and wanted to shove the little device down his throat.
The reporter sat across from us in a chair, and I began to sweat from the lights. I kept licking my lips.
“Tell us about the last time you talked to your husband, Mrs. King.”
“Well, he texted me yesterday when he arrived at the party for Jardin, his new building. He sent me some photos of the floral arrangements because he knows I love flowers. And a photo of the fruit display because he also knows I love tropical fruit.” My eyes started to water, and the reporter quickly unfurled a tissue as if he was a magician. I told the reporter what Caleb had written in Portuguese.
“He sounds like a very romantic man,” the reporter replied.
I nodded while inhaling a messy breath. “He’s always doing things like that. Texting me lines of poetry, giving me little presents. Sometimes he brings home a pineapple because he knows I love pineapple. He’s my soul mate.”
Colin, who was seated next to me, squeezed my hand. He interjected with his own answer, and the reporter listened with an earnest look. Then he turned to me.
“Mrs. King, your husband is a very rich man. Can you tell me if he’s mentioned whether anyone has a grudge against him?”
“No. People love him. Everyone loves him.”
“Did he have any business disputes with anyone?”
I shook my head.
“Do you think he kept secrets from you?”
I reared back, as if slapped. My hand circled my stomach several times. “No!”
“Do you keep secrets from him?” The reporter’s eyes dipped, to where Colin and I were holding hands. I yanked my arm away.
“No,” I said, realizing I looked defensive.
“I’m sorry to have to ask this, but do you think your husband had a mistress?”
I gaped at the reporter, unable to speak. I reminded myself anger wasn’t good for the baby. I repeated it in my mind, over and over, while glaring at the reporter.
“Emma is pregnant and I’d appreciate if you’d keep your questions on a professional level,” Colin said coldly. “Our reason for doing this interview is to encourage anyone in your country who knows anything about Caleb’s whereabouts to come forward to authorities. No detail is too small. We’re begging for any information about my brother.”
As Colin spoke, I dipped my head and the tears flowed again. I was a complete mess and hated myself for thinking I was capable of giving a TV interview. When I glanced up, I realized the camera was tilted at me and probably focused in on a tight shot of my puffy eyes. I didn’t give a crap.
When the interview was over and I was unhooked from the microphone, I refused to acknowledge the journalists and turned to Colin.
“It’s nine o’clock. Caleb was supposed to have been on the plane now.”
We al
l stared at each other dumbly. After a few minutes, I walked out of the room, furious I was so helpless. I stalked into the bedroom and put on my pajamas. There was nothing else to do but lie down. I fell asleep in Sarah’s arms, acutely aware a plane was on its way from Brazil to Florida, without my husband aboard.
* * *
The next morning, I spent a long time talking with the newly hired PI via Skype and tried hard not to scream at him when he asked if I knew whether my husband had a girlfriend.
“He does not have a mistress. Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me that?” I hurled the pen I was holding across the room, and Colin looked at me with a grimace. Caleb’s desk, normally orderly, was littered with papers, coffee cups, and Colin’s various electronic devices.
Since I’d just thrown the last expensive pen across the room, the steel holder on the desk sat empty. Caleb became irritated when he couldn’t easily locate a writing tool.
He is going to lose his mind when he sees all this chaos on his desk, I thought.
“Mrs. King, I have to ask all these questions. I apologize.”
I sighed and apologized right back.
When I was finished with the infuriating conversation, Colin, Laura, and Sarah cornered me.
“We need to check your blood pressure,” Sarah said. “We missed the reading yesterday.”
I groaned. “It’s going to be high and with good reason.” At first I tried to wrangle my arm out of their clutches, but eventually I gave it. I had to; they were the ones caring for me in Caleb’s absence.
I had no one else to rely on. I considered calling my dad, but by the time he got here, Caleb would be back, I told myself.
“Thanks for taking care of me,” I mumbled as they strapped on the monitor and pressed the little button. The expensive electronic device beeped, and sure enough, it was one-forty over ninety.
“I’m not going to the doctor right now,” I protested.
“I’ve already been in touch with her. I’ll let her know of this latest reading, but we’ll definitely be seeing her soon.” Colin’s voice cracked a little, so unusual because he normally spoke in a cool, collected tone. He had definitely grown kinder, gentler, in the past day. I was grateful, and he reached to rub my arm. “For tonight, the doctor said you could take another Benadryl. That’s what she told us last night, remember?”
“Fine.” I scooped my phone off the desk and pressed a button, hoping against all odds Caleb had somehow called.
He hadn’t.
And that was the frustrating part, as the second day dragged on. There was simply no information coming our way. Time was speeding past, and yet felt horribly slow. There was no rulebook on how to handle this kind of situation. No one ever tells you how to act if your husband disappears two months after your wedding.
I was helpless and powerless, two things I’d vowed to never be.
The police opened an official inquest, which meant I spoke to three more detectives. Caleb had basically vanished, and everyone—police, the PI, and most of all, me—couldn’t understand how or why.
“Wouldn’t someone have seen him somewhere? Wouldn’t he have stood out? He’s an American in Brazil,” I cried at one point to the PI, during our second excruciating conversation of the day. Or maybe it was the third. I’d lost track of all the people I’d talked with.
“São Paulo has over twenty-one million people in the whole metro area,” he replied in a thick accent. “It’s the most populous city in the Southern Hemisphere. It’s the twelfth largest city in the world. People can easily get lost here.”
His words made me shiver.
“And we’ve checked all the hospitals?” I insisted.
“There are dozens in the city. We’re going to all of them.”
Hours later, I paced around the kitchen, shaking from helplessness.
“Emma!” Colin called out sharply. “There’s news.”
I ran into the office, Laura and Sarah close behind. They shut the door.
Colin pointed to the phone. “It’s Detective Santos.”
“What have you found?” I cried, my heart going into overdrive.
“Someone turned in Caleb’s cell phone. It was found at the main bus terminal in São Paulo. They picked it up in a bathroom yesterday, then read a newspaper article this morning about a missing American. Thanks be to God they turned the phone in.”
I inhaled, and a fresh wave of fear ripped through me. Caleb would never go anywhere without his phone.
“So…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say.
“Mrs. King, we’ve looked through your husband’s phone. We saw your texts back and forth and the texts to his brother and his colleagues. Everything checks out with your story.”
I frowned. Colin held up his hands when our eyes met, as if to say, Don’t freak out.
“Of course everything checked out,” Colin said. “Did you find any other evidence on the phone?”
The detective cleared his throat. “I hate to have to bring this up in front of Mrs. King, but it is important. We found some photos of a woman on the device. How shall I say this delicately? They were pictures of an extremely sexual nature.”
I swallowed and covered my mouth with my hand, fearing I’d throw up because my gut was tossing and turning as if I were seasick. Photos of a woman? How was it possible? Did Caleb have a lover? Had he snapped photos of a woman in Brazil? Sarah rubbed my back, and I heard her inhale a strangled breath. She was panicking; I could feel it. Which meant I was going to implode from anxiety. I looked into her eyes and she glanced away.
I reminded myself to breathe and stroked my stomach.
“We’re going to need you to look at the pictures. I deeply apologize for having to do this to you, Mrs. King, but it’s necessary, especially if you recognize her. The photos are recent, according to the metadata we’ve extracted. We’re going to send you an email with a Dropbox link of files from Caleb’s phone. We’d like you to go through everything, but pay special attention to the subfolder titled her.”
Her. My heart hammered against my ribcage. Her? Who was she?
I listened to Colin give his email address to the detective and then end the call. He tapped on his laptop, and after a few tense, silent minutes where no one in the room spoke, Colin forced out a breath.
“Emma, it’s here. Please look with me.”
Feeling like I was walking to a death chamber, I rounded the desk and stood behind Colin. “Sit,” he said, standing and pointing to his chair. I sank down, my shoulders slumping and my heart pounding against my ribcage.
I clicked on the file. The first set was named photo library, and I selected that. I felt like vomiting, at least until I clicked through quickly. I shook my head.
“I’ve seen all these. They were from the party, the ones he texted me. And look, earlier photos from New Year’s and Christmas and Thanksgiving. There aren’t many photos because he’s a stickler about backing everything up to the cloud and then erasing. There’s nothing unusual here.”
Colin nodded and wiped his mouth. “Right. Okay. Try the other folder.”
There was only one other folder.
Her.
Laura sighed and walked away from the screen to stare out the window. Sarah stood close behind me and kneaded my shoulders.
I clicked. A burst of instinctual jealousy and shock bubbled up when I saw the woman’s naked body, the curve of her backside, and her folded arms bound by leather straps.
But then, a sense of deep relief.
These were photos of me, the ones he’d taken on our honeymoon when I’d asked him to restrain me. When our lives had been perfect and sublime. He’d saved them as black-and-white pictures, and they were beautiful, artistic, even.
There were six in all, and I clicked through, rapid-fire. Two different shots of my breasts, bound between leather, my skin porcelain-pale in the candlelight. A close-up of the strap around my thigh. One of my bare ass and back, my arms folded against one another.
<
br /> The last one was a shot of my restrained legs and the wet, bare skin in between. I think I even spied a hint of my clitoris in the shot, but quickly closed the computer window, feeling hugely embarrassed. A tiny twinge of excitement from the memory of that evening also surfaced, and I cast my eyes down to the floor.
Colin blew out a breath. “I’m so sorry, Emma. I can’t believe you had to see those. I never thought he would…especially not after you two were just marr—”
I turned in my chair and looked up at him incredulously.
“You dolt,” Sarah interrupted him. “Those photos are of Emma.”
Colin froze, his eyes wide with horror. “They…are?”
I nodded, unable to meet his gaze, so I buried my face in my hands.
Sarah snorted. “Yes! You could tell by the big freckle on her shoulder. And the scar on her knee. Although I’m sure you weren’t focused on those things.”
Colin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “Jesus. Christ. Erase those from my computer and call the detective back and tell him, will you?”
He stalked out of the room, and for the first time in days, I met Sarah’s eyes and cracked a wan smile.
Chapter 11
Five-thirty at night came and went, and it had been forty-eight hours since I’d heard from Caleb. We all moped around, and most of the King employees went home.
Colin still couldn’t look at me without blushing. I wasn’t ashamed of the sexy photos, but out of respect for his sensibilities—who knew he’d be such a prude about those things—I avoided talking to him. He appeared relieved.
Some time later, after eating pizza and getting a wicked case of heartburn, I took a Benadryl and then showered again. I’d taken to showering a few times a day since it was the only time I could be alone and cry my heart out. Finally, I lay in bed, exhausted. Sarah joined me and held my hand.
“It’s going to be difficult, but you’ve got to hold it together for the baby,” she whispered. “Anger and sadness won’t help the baby.”