Chapter 4

Hearing his voice over the line made my tears burst forth instantly.

My hands were still shaking, but the crushing weight in my chest finally lifted.

Thank God.

Michael wasn't the killer.

But my relief was short-lived.

The very next second, I heard him talking to the officer, "I’ve been out of town since late March. I never sent her any gifts."

A cold dread crawled from the soles of my feet straight up my spine.

It wasn't him.

Then who was the man who had been intimate with me?

Had I seriously failed to recognize my own husband?

His face, his voice...

"Mr. Miller, the three o'clock meeting is about to start," a voice called out over the speaker.

It was Michael's assistant.

"Understood," Michael replied.

He turned his attention back to the phone, his tone laced with heavy apology.

"Detective, I really can't get away right this second.

“The moment this meeting wraps up, I'll book the earliest flight back to cooperate with the investigation."

"Babe," he added, addressing me. "Don't be scared. Just listen to the police and do whatever they tell you to do."

"Thank you, officers. Please watch over my wife for me."

The call disconnected.

I sat there frozen.

His words, “I never sent her any gifts” kept

playing on a terrifying, endless loop in my mind.

My phone slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the floor but I didn't even feel it.

The female officer leaned down to retrieve it and I lunged forward, grabbing her sleeve in a desperate grip.

"Detective... then who came to my house on April Fools' Day? He looked exactly like my husband! We..."

The words choked in my throat, impossible to voice.

The man who had impersonated Michael had walked right through my front door, slept in my bed and held me in his arms.

Who on earth was he?

What did he want?

Was he the killer?

The detective quickly supported my swaying, unstable frame.

"Mrs. Miller, for your own safety and to help with our investigation, I need you to come down to the station with us right now."

Without a second thought, I agreed.

As we walked down to the cruiser, I glued myself to the officers' sides, terrified that something was stalking me from the shadows.

I dove into the back of the police car.

Even with the bright afternoon sun beating down on me, I felt chilled to the bone.

Not until we arrived at the precinct with the harsh fluorescent lights of the interrogation room washing over me that my body finally began to thaw.

The detective handling my statement was the same woman from my house.

Her name was Detective Logan.

"How long have you and Michael been married? How would you describe your relationship?"

I blinked, caught off guard by why the questions were focusing on our marriage.

Still, I followed her lead.

"Eight years. We've always had a great relationship. He spoils me and I never have to worry about anything around the house.

“I'm incredibly dependent on him. All our neighbors know how close we are."

Detective Logan nodded, then leaned in slightly.

"So, in your opinion, did the man impersonating him play the part well?"

"Yes." I began nervously picking at my cuticles again.

"Terrifyingly well. His voice sounded identical, and even his mannerisms were the exact same.

“We had a candlelight dinner that night. The lights were low, so I didn't notice anything amiss.

“Detective, you have to find him! He must still be out there somewhere. It's too dangerous!"

Hearing this, Detective Logan fell completely silent.

She stood up, walked over to my side of the table and looked down at me with a heavy gaze.

"We pulled the surveillance footage from a wider perimeter around your neighborhood," she said slowly.

"Aside from the camera directly under your building, none of the surrounding street cameras captured the man you described."

She paused, her tone dropping into a grim register.

"In fact, the only person seen entering or leaving during that entire window... was you.

"Was that thing... truly brought back by someone else?"