PART TWO — THE PASSPORTS
I pressed my hand against my mouth to keep myself from making a sound.
She doesn’t even know who she married.
The words kept repeating inside my head.
I had been married to Caleb for seven years.
Seven years.
I knew how he took his coffee.
I knew he hated thunderstorms.
I knew he always checked the doors twice before going to bed.
I knew the scar on his left shoulder.
I knew the way he held Noah when he thought nobody was watching.
At least…
I thought I knew him.
Below me, the stranger spoke.
“What about the boy?”
My entire body went numb.
Caleb looked down at the passports.
“Noah stays where he is.”
“His parents are expecting him tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Then we don’t have much time.”
I almost cried out.
My son.
They were talking about my son.
I slowly pulled my phone from my pocket.
No signal.
I moved toward the attic window.
One bar.
Then none.
I couldn’t call Mara.
I couldn’t call the police.
And I couldn’t leave without being seen.
Then I remembered something.
The attic had an old vent.
It connected to the hallway downstairs.
I crawled toward it.
Below, Caleb and the stranger were still talking.
“I told you,” Caleb said. “Everything is ready.”
“Then why hasn’t she left?”
“Because she doesn’t suspect anything.”
The stranger laughed softly.
“You’ve been married to her for seven years.”
“Exactly.”
There was something chilling about the way Caleb said it.
Not affection.
Not regret.
Almost pride.
I closed my eyes.
Then the stranger asked,
“What about the original documents?”
Caleb became silent.
“The originals are still here,” he finally said.
“Where?”
Caleb looked toward the ceiling.
And I realized he was standing directly beneath me.
PAGE 3
I stopped breathing.
Caleb stared at the attic ceiling.
For a moment, I thought he could see me through the floor.
Then he turned away.
“The originals are somewhere she would never look.”
The stranger nodded.
“Good.”
They closed the passport case.
Then Caleb walked toward the stairs.
My heart nearly stopped.
I crawled backward.
The attic door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Someone was trying to open it.
I pressed my back against the wall.
Caleb’s voice came through the door.
“Elise?”
I didn’t answer.
“Are you up there?”
My eyes filled with tears.
I couldn’t understand how he knew.
He tried the latch.
It held.
“Elise?”
I remained silent.
Then the stranger whispered something to him.
Caleb stepped away.
I heard them walk downstairs.
But before he disappeared, he said one sentence.
“Tomorrow morning, she won’t remember any of this.”
I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then twenty.
Nothing.
Finally, I crawled back toward the floorboards.
The house was silent again.
I looked through the gap.
The hallway was empty.
I carefully opened the attic door.
No one was there.
I descended the stairs.
The living room was dark.
The front door was locked.
The kitchen was empty.
But Caleb’s laptop was gone.
So was the black case.
I walked toward our bedroom.
Caleb was lying in bed.
His eyes were closed.
His breathing was slow.
As if nothing had happened.
I stood in the doorway staring at him.
Then his eyes opened.
“Where were you?”
My heart stopped.
PAGE 5 — PART TWO CLIFFHANGER
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said.
He smiled.
“Nightmare?”
I nodded.
“Something like that.”
He reached for my hand.
I almost pulled away.
Almost.
Instead, I let him hold it.
His palm was warm.
Familiar.
And suddenly I noticed something I had never noticed before.
A tiny scar near his thumb.
A scar shaped like a crescent.
I had seen that scar before.
Not on Caleb.
On the photograph of one of the passports.
I pulled my hand away.
Caleb frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
I stared at him.
Then I realized something terrifying.
The passport with Caleb’s face wasn’t simply fake.
It had been made years before I ever met him.
