The line went silent except for his breathing. Fast, shallow, like he’d been punched.
Finally.
Are you sure it’s her writing?
I have seen it for 9 years on every birthday card, every school form. I’m sure.
There has to be an explanation. Maybe it’s for work. Maybe someone planted it.
Ryan, I cut him off. Your wife has been acting strange for weeks. Late night secret phone calls. Distant with the kids. And now this. Those are your babies with red circles around their faces like livestock at an auction.
Another long pause. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow.
I’ve been in Denver for 6 days. She said the Seattle conference was last minute added Friday.
The realization hit him. I could hear it in the sharp intake of breath.
Mom, what if she’s not in Seattle at all? What if she lied about everything?
The note says, “Delivery Thursday at 1000 p.m. Today is Tuesday.” We have less than 48 hours.
Ryan finished. I heard typing through the phone.
I’m checking flights now. There’s a redeye leaving Denver at 9:45 tonight. Gets into Fairview at 2:15 tomorrow morning. I’m booking it.
A moment of doubt seized me.
Ryan, what if we’re wrong? What if there’s an explanation we’re not seeing?
His answer came back fast and sharp.
Look at that photo again. Look at my children’s faces with those circles. Tell me there’s an innocent explanation.
I pulled out the photographs. Grace’s smile, Liam’s bright eyes, and those jagged red circles cutting through their innocence. There was no explanation, only evil.
No, I whispered. There isn’t.
Mom, I need you to go home. Act normal. If Tams and calls, tell her you picked up the bag and hung it in her closet. Make her think everything is normal. We need time before she knows we found the evidence.
Ryan’s voice dropped lower, colder than I’d ever heard it.
I think the woman I married is planning something with this svonov person. Something involving a lot of money and marking my children like their merchandise.
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