Where are you really?
Who is Melanie?
Why did you take my father’s papers?
Instead, I typed, “I miss you too. Safe flight.”
Then I set the phone face down.
It felt less like deception than self-defense.
Grace’s email arrived twenty minutes later.
The subject line read: Documents.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just attachments.
I opened them one by one.
Screenshots of messages between Lucas and Melanie.
“My marriage has been over for years.”
“Anne understands but can’t let go.”
“Once Zurich is settled, everything will be easier.”
“I hate leaving you to handle this pregnancy alone.”
“Two years and we’ll be free.”
That line made me pause.
Two years.
I had assumed Lucas used that length of time because it sounded believable for a foreign assignment. Long enough to explain absence. Not forever, not immediately suspicious.
But in his messages to Melanie, two years appeared again and again.
Two years and we’ll be free.
Free from what?
I opened the next attachment.
A lease agreement for the Palm Springs condominium. I had seen it before, but this copy had an additional page.
Occupants: Lucas Everett, Melanie Harper.
Expected move-in date: July 1.
Emergency contact: Grace Harper.
Grace’s name had been crossed out by hand.
Beside it, in Lucas’s handwriting, was another name.
Daniel Voss.
I stared at it.
I did not know the name.
The next attachment was a photo of a business card.
Daniel Voss
Private Wealth Strategy Consultant
Voss Meridian Advisory
Below that was an address in San Diego.
A strange pressure built behind my ribs.
Private wealth strategy consultant.
It sounded respectable enough to be meaningless.
The final attachment was a scanned handwritten note, apparently photographed quickly. The image was slightly blurred, but I could read most of it.
“L—
