Skepticism (Life. Destiny. Fate. #4)

by LK Collins

  Sitting patiently, I sip on my Scotch and watch Grace’s outgoing calls. Right away, she makes a call to a Washington State area code. I write the number down and begin tracing it, hoping the two stay connected, staring intently at my laptop screen. “Come on…come on!” I watch and wait, counting the seconds that tick by. Please stay connected; I don’t need long at all. But the line goes dead. Goddammit! Something went wrong.

  Fuck!

  Tracing the owner of the number Grace called, it’s a burner phone, and when I try to pull a signal to see what tower it’s pinging off of, I get nothing, it’s gone. I was so close to her and now nothing. It gives me hope though that Natalene is alive and faked her death for a second time. These small signs…the quickness of the dropped call, the disappeared phone signal…they give me reassurance that she’s okay.

  But is that enough? Why would she do that? If there was a real threat from Moretti, wouldn’t she have tried to find me? Looking at the notes I’ve written down, the date of her death is so familiar. March 7th. I rack my brain, taking another drink, and then it hits me. March 7th is our anniversary.

  She did this as a sign…she needs me. I have to find her. There is some reason she faked her death, and a reason she correlated it back to us.

  Packing my bag, I call the pilot for Smith, Brown, and Mileski. We purchased a plane, which I typically don’t take for personal use, but I guess that’s part of the reason why we bought it.

  “How long will you be staying for?” Rocco, the pilot, asks me.

  “I’m not sure. It’s research for a case. You should just drop me off and I’ll call you when I’m ready to return.”

  “I can do that. Should I meet you in, let’s say an hour?”

  “Please.”

  We hang up and I know I have to call the guys. I’m just not sure who is the better fit to deal with this. I get lost packing and decide it has to be C.J.; Vincent will ask too many questions, the nosy fucker.

  “What’s up, man, you miss me already?”

  “You know it,” I respond, keeping the normal light banter between us going. I don’t want him to suspect anything, plus no one knows about my past, not even the guys. To them I am Liam Brown, ace lawyer, through and through. “Listen, I feel like shit. I’m not going to be able to make it in tomorrow.”

  “The fuck you are; it’s your day with the witnesses.”

  “I’m serious; I’m in bed, my head’s spinning and—”

  “You better be telling the fucking truth, ’cause if I cover for you and—”

  I cut him off. “Shut up, see you Monday,” I say and hang up.

  Sitting back and contemplating my next move, I can’t even fathom that after all of this time I’m going to go looking for her. But something in my mind is telling me that it’s the right thing to do.

  Zipping my bag, it’s time to head out. Rocco is going to need to stay quiet about this little excursion, so I take some cash from my safe. On my way to the airport, I stop by the office to print off anything and everything I can on Natalene and her parents to study in the air.

  Pulling in to the airport, I see our plane right away. Rocco is outside talking to one of the mechanics. My head is a fucking mess – everything is foggy, and I’m not myself. I just need to know what’s going on with her already. Holding in the urge to scream, I continue on my mission, knowing that the sooner I am in Washington the better.

  Rocco sees me approaching and gives me a slight nod. I nod back. “Evening, Rocco,” and board the plane. Setting my bag on one of the six seats, I pull out a stack of cash, I’m not even sure how much it is, but it’s for him.

  Rocco comes into the cabin of the aircraft for a debrief and shakes my hand. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Brown.”

  “Please call me Liam,” I tell him, like I always do. He nods his head once, with his hands on his hips. He’s ex-military, so I feel I can trust him to be discreet. “Rocco, this trip is a little personal too, so I was wondering if we could keep it between us.” I extend my hand that has the cash in it to him.

  He pauses and looks at my hand for a few seconds. “Absolutely. You are, after all, the boss. If anyone asks, this was just one of the routine flights I do to make sure the plane is running sound, which I flew alone.”

  “Good, thank you, Rocco.”

  “Anytime. Shall we?” he asks.

  I take my seat as he heads up front, firing up the engines. Resting my head against the soft black leather seat, my cell phone rings. It’s Vincent. I know better than to answer – C.J. must have called him and now he’s worried, but I don’t have time to hold his hand right now. Powering it down, I focus on my plan for when I land.

  The plane taxies down the runway and Rocco says, “Please prepare for takeoff, Mr. Brown.”

  “Ready,” I reply, laughing internally that he’s insistent on calling me Mr. Brown.

  The plane picks up speed and ascends into the air at a steep angle. Reaching into my bag, I pull out the file with Natalene’s parents’ credit card history and begin studying it, highlighting any purchase that took place while they were in Washington. Inside, I’m antsy for what awaits me and for what the possibility of finding her could do to me. But the thoughts don’t last long as sleep invades me. I’m tired. The lack of sleep from the Pascal case together with the mental turmoil of possibly losing or finding Natalene has hit me hard.

  …“Keep ’em closed,” Natalene says with her hands firmly over my eyes as she walks behind me. My senses are heightened as I try and figure out where we are. It’s my birthday and she has been so hush about what we are doing. There is a humming in the background like a car engine, and right away, I think she bought me a car, maybe an old Ford like my dad’s.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Fuck, baby, yes,” I practically beg, trying to figure out what she’s up to.

  She removes her hands from my eyes, the bright sun shines hard, and it takes me a minute to adjust to the sight in front of us. “No way, baby, you did not charter us a private airplane.”

  “Hell yeah, I did,” she says excitedly. She knows that I’ve always wanted my own plane, and with the life that we are leading, I know one day…I’ll have it. We’re not there financially yet, but we’re damn close.

  “Well, where are we going?” I ask as she walks us towards it, holding on to my hand tightly.

  “The Hamptons, of course.”

  I can’t help but stop in the middle of the tarmac and pull her tight body against mine. She’s giggles when I do this, and I can’t wait to get her alone. Natalene is my everything.

  Leaning her forehead against mine, she looks into my eyes. Hers glimmer with so much love that I’d die without them. “I love you,” I whisper and pucker my lips to hers.

  She swiftly kisses me back and says, “I love you more, Micah.”

  Taking her face in my hands, I hold it firmly, requiring that she kiss me more. She smirks up at me, acquiescing to my request. “Thank you,” I say as she takes her time showing me the attention that I need. We walk off happily…she’s in a hurry, I get that. But no matter what is going on around us, I always take time to show her just how much she means to me…

  I wake groggy and disoriented, but can still feel Natalene’s lips upon mine. I keep my eyes closed, wishing that the dream would keep going. That weekend is when I told her that I wanted to marry her, that no matter what trials we endured, we’d spend the rest of our lives together. With the way that we lived, it was reassuring for both us to be on the same page and to have a plan. However, I ruined it all. I never executed the plan – our plan – and I let her down.

  Now, I have to find her, not only to make sure she is okay, but to make amends – I need to, I can’t live this way any longer. I was wrong to stay away, I shouldn’t have abandoned our plan…that is clear now going through the fear that she might be dead. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her. And finding her picture, as simple as it was, made me realize how much I miss her and
need her, as much if not more than ever before. The big question is…am I too late? Ten years have passed since I saw her last. And not only the time, we’ve actually become different people. There’s a good possibility she could have moved on with her life and not even remember Micah or what we shared.

  It’s early and still dark outside. Getting behind the wheel of the rental car, I contemplate where to go first. I methodically dug into her parents’ purchases and remapped their days the best I could. The only pattern that I could really find over a year’s worth of visits was that they got coffee every day. The charges seemed more than just two people’s coffees, even with food, so this is what I’m pinning my hopes to. My best plan at this point is to sit in front of the coffee shop and hope that I can find Natalene there.

  Driving through the quaint town just outside of Seattle, it’s small and quiet. I can see why Nat would have stayed here for so long. But I still don’t feel safe. I was up all night, a ball of stress and anxiety, fighting with my own mind. My stomach churns at the possibility that maybe this is a trap to set me up. What if something really did happen to her and this is how Moretti is going to lure me in? My gut is telling me that it isn’t – she picked the date of our anniversary to die as a sign to me – but the paranoia lingers just the same.

  Parking in front of the coffee shop, it’s 5:50am. There’s an employee inside setting up for the day, and I hope waiting here pans out. I need to catch Nat in her routine, and once I do, I can follow her, then figure out the rest from there.

  My phone rings, startling me. It’s Vincent, again. He called me three times last night and I ignored him every time. Reluctantly I answer, doing my best to sound sick.

  “Oh shit, man, you do sound bad.”

  “Yeah, I’m really not feeling well.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s a shit time to be out, but take as much time as you need. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Listen, I’m calling you regarding the Pascal case. You were right – Josephine contacted me last night and she wants to cut a plea deal—”

  “During the middle of the trial?” I ask.

  “Yeah…” He stalls and I wonder what’s next.

  “What’s your plan?” I ask.

  “Well, I’m thinking I can still get her off.”

  “I don’t know, Vince, the evidence is pretty compelling against her, and if she’s trying to plea out…well, what does that tell you?”

  “I know…but you know my track record.”

  “But what if you don’t win?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you,” he says exhaling loudly into the phone.

  I think about what he’s trying to do, and I can’t fathom playing with someone else’s fate, guilty or not. “I’d let her make the deal. It’ll hurt us all if things go awry and you lose, especially if she could’ve gotten away with less.”

  “I know, but if I get her off, I continue to be the man that never loses.”

  “That is until she kills again and it’s on you,” I mumble.

  “Damn, you’re right,” he proclaims. “I knew you could help me see things. I get caught up sometimes…”

  “I just don’t want you to have any regrets. I know you like to be the hero and all, but she obviously did it.”

  “Thanks, man. I’m sorry to bother you. Get some rest and let me know if you need anything.”

  We hang up, and I swear I just saw Natalene drive past me. My heart stammers. I contemplate following her, but since I’m not one hundred percent sure, I stall. Looking in my rearview mirror, something moves me. I start my engine and flip a bitch flooring it. I can’t risk missing her.

  The light up ahead changes to red and the car she’s in stops. I switch lanes so I can be next to her and proceed slowly. Pulling up, a woman with her same profile looks over at me, but it isn’t her and she drives off as the light changes.

  The cars behind me honk as I sit dumbfounded. Pulling away slowly, I roll my window down to get some fresh air. I was sure it was her. The air is warm as the sun peeks over the horizon. I pull up the sleeves on my grey t-shirt and sink a little further into the seat as I turn around heading back to the coffee shop.

  Putting the car in park, I hold on to the picture of Natalene, studying her face and her features. An idea comes to mind. Why didn’t I think about this earlier? Opening up my laptop, I decide to do a DMV search for any new driver’s licenses issued around the time of Nat’s supposed death in the state of Washington. I know it’s a broad search, but I can trim it down by a few factors. As my computer loads and I attempt to crack the code of the firewall, I look around. The town is starting to wake, and I fear that spending this time on my computer will cause me to miss her right in front of me.

  But my gut is pulling me in this direction, so I follow it, doing my best to focus on two things at once. It’s a long shot, as she could have gotten a new driver’s license from a completely different state. Keeping my eye on the line inside the coffee shop and a mental count on the people in it, I begin my search.

  My computer works fast, and within seconds, I have a list of just over two hundred and fifteen possible matches. Damn, that’s a lot of people. Knowing what I have to do next, I begin to go through the list, and every time that I click on a new driver’s license, I look up, checking on things in the coffee shop. I have no doubt that the second I see her picture, I’ll know it’s her, so there’s no need to do much more than to take a quick glance at each one.

  Click after click after click, and I’m becoming discouraged. It’s now 8:37 in the morning and there is no sign of Nat, the list of new IDs is dwindling down, and I’m thinking that if she were coming here, she would have been here by now. She’s an early riser, always was, and I assume that’s stayed the same.

  Then…there she is. This is the break that I’ve needed. Her license picture is staring back at me clear as day, with those eyes…God, I’ve missed them. I take entirely too long staring at her picture before I will myself to continue.

  Scanning over the information, I’m surprised when I see the name Aubrey Walsh. It’s so close to the name my dad had given her – Audrey Welsh – that I almost laugh out loud. Why would she choose a name nearly identical to her old one, and who in the world could have helped her?

  While I contemplate all of this, I pull up a map to the address listed on her license. Her house is only five minutes from where I’m sitting right fucking now. Sitting here in this fog, my mind races. The only person that I know skilled enough to give her a new identity is my cousin, Tomas. He had to have helped her. I can only hope she didn’t keep making new underworld connections in her new life.

  Holding my phone tightly in my hand, I dial his phone number. I haven’t talked to him in years, and I doubt that the number is even still the same, but I try it anyways.

  “Hello?” he answers, in his thick east coast accent.

  “Tomas,” is all I have to say and he knows it’s me.

  “Holy shit, Micah? Jesus, how are you? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

  “It’s so good to hear from you.”

  “Thanks, listen, I don’t have long and you know why. But I was wondering if Nat has contacted you at all?”

  “Nah, man. I haven’t heard from her. I assumed she was with you. Is everything okay with you guys?”

  “Yeah,” I lie, not able to admit that I’ve let her down. I want to probe further and to find out if he can find any information, but I’m not sure it’s the right move. Hell, even calling him was probably a bad idea.

  “You sound stressed, something’s the matter. What’s up?”

  My desire to know more quickly trumps any apprehension. He’s family. Knowing I can trust him, I fill him in on some things. I need his help to find out as much as I can on Nat and why she faked her death. I can’t just show up at her house uneducated.

  “Give me about an hour and I’ll call you back, okay?”

&
nbsp; We hang up and I start my car, pulling onto the street, away from what I thought was such a good lead. Now, I’m onto what is sure to be Nat’s house. My heart is racing, beating so erratically, it feels like it’s going to burst from between my ribs.

  My hands repeatedly twist over and over the steering wheel. What will it feel like when I see her, or when she sees me? One hour is all I have to wait to hear back from Tomas, then I can find out. The anticipation has me on edge, but I know each minute that passes gets me closer to knowing.

  Driving into the entrance of the lavish neighborhood, I’m a bit taken back. After a few quick turns, I’m down the street from her house. It’s massive with pillars, a huge front yard, and a four-car garage. Not what I expected for her…or Seattle.

  Sitting here on the side of the street, I contemplate what to do. Then one of the garage doors opens and the headlights to a Mercedes shine out. It creeps down the driveway before blazing past me, with a man about my age behind the wheel.

  Suddenly, I feel sick. Everything that I thought I knew and could count on, I can’t. She moved on…

  Sitting in front of her house like a zombie, I’m completely zoned out.

  What the fuck happened?

  The Nat that I used to know I thought would never move on. Even with me abandoning our plan…I couldn’t imagine her giving up. Maybe I was foolish to think she’d yearn for me until her dying day…and I have to admit to myself it’s pretty stupid that’s what I assumed. My body tenses thinking of her with someone else. She’s built a life with this guy, they share a home, and possibly so much more…a family.

  My world spins. I shouldn’t even be here right now…she’s not mine. The realization hits me and is hard to swallow. I guess for years there’s been that deep secret hope that we’d have a future, one day, and now that dream is suddenly dead.

  Knowing I’ve ruined it all kills me. I need to leave. I’m not sure why I’m still here, because I can no longer bring myself to go to her door. Willing my body to move on and turn away from her…it won’t, not again. I can’t leave.