For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Daisy was standing on Charlotte’s hip, one tiny hand wrapped around the collar of her black jacket.
My daughter wasn’t crying.
That scared me more than anything.
“Where is Oliver now?” I whispered.
Charlotte shook her head.
“I don’t know. He drove away before I could follow him.”
I looked at Daisy’s face.
Her cheeks were cold.
“How long was she in that car?”
“At least twenty minutes after I found her. I don’t know how long before that.”
My stomach twisted.
I took Daisy from her arms and held her against my chest.
She immediately buried her face in my neck.
“I’m sorry,” Charlotte said quietly. “I know this looks strange.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“It doesn’t.”
For the first time since I’d known her, Charlotte looked frightened.
Not intimidating.
Not cold.
Frightened.
“There’s something else,” she said.
“What?”
She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small black object.
My husband’s car key.
I stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“It was on the ground beside the car.”
I looked toward the door.
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
“I almost did.”
“Almost?”
She nodded.
“Then I saw who came out of that building.”
“Who?”
Charlotte hesitated.
“The woman.”
My heart began pounding again.
“What about her?”
“I recognized her.”
I frowned.
“From where?”
“She lives in that building.”
“So?”
Charlotte swallowed.
“She used to live here.”
My mouth went dry.
“Here?”
“Not your apartment. The apartment across from yours.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible. You’ve lived there almost a year.”
“Exactly.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Before me, another woman lived in my apartment.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“What was her name?”
Charlotte’s expression changed.
“Emily.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Until she added:
“Emily Parker.”
I almost dropped my daughter.
That was Oliver’s old girlfriend’s name.
He had told me she’d moved out of state before we met.
He’d said they’d ended badly and he’d never spoken to her again.
I looked at Charlotte.
“You knew?”
“I didn’t know who she was until tonight.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t sure.”
She pulled out her phone.
“I took a picture.”
She showed me the screen.
It was dark and blurry, but there was no mistaking Oliver.
He was standing outside the apartment building.
And beside him was a woman.
Emily.
Her hand was resting on his chest.
His hand was around her waist.
I felt something inside me crack.
But Charlotte wasn’t finished.
“Look at the timestamp.”
I did.
8:17 p.m.
I looked at Daisy.
Oliver had told me he’d left the house at 8:25.
Eight minutes before he supposedly took our daughter for a drive.
“That’s not possible.”
Charlotte quietly said, “There’s more.”
She zoomed in on the photograph.
Behind Oliver and Emily was a window.
Someone was standing inside it.
A little girl.
I stared.
Charlotte whispered:
“That apartment wasn’t empty.”
My blood went cold.
“Who was that?”
“I don’t know.”
She zoomed in again.
The girl was maybe six or seven years old.
And she was staring directly at Oliver.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from Oliver.
Daisy finally fell asleep. We’re driving around. Don’t wait up. Love you.
I looked at the message.
Then at my daughter.
Then at Charlotte.
“He’s lying.”
Charlotte nodded.
“I know.”
I typed back.
Where are you?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
They appeared again.
And finally:
At home.
I looked toward my front door.
Neither of us moved.
Because Oliver had just texted me that he was home.
And I could hear footsteps in the hallway outside.
Slow.
Heavy.
Coming toward my apartment.
Charlotte’s face went pale.
She grabbed my arm.
“Don’t open that door.”
The footsteps stopped directly outside.
Then came three soft knocks.
Daisy lifted her head from my shoulder.
And in a voice barely above a whisper, she said something that made Charlotte and me freeze.
“Daddy.”
Then Daisy pointed at the door.
“That’s Daddy.”
Charlotte stared at me.
I stared at the door.
And then the doorknob slowly began to turn.