CHAPTER 2 — THE MAN WHO LIED ABOUT MY WIFE
The footsteps stopped directly outside the front door.
No knocking.
No voice.
Only silence.
The kind of silence that makes your imagination louder than reality.
I reached into the kitchen drawer and grabbed the only weapon available—a heavy cast-iron fireplace poker.
The girls hid behind the couch.
Both trembling.
The porch boards creaked once.
Twice.
Then whoever stood outside slowly walked away.
I waited five full minutes before opening the door.
Nothing.
The porch was empty.
But resting against the welcome mat was something that hadn't been there before.
A bouquet of fresh white lilies.
Olivia's favorite flowers.
Wrapped around the stems was a folded note.
It contained only four words.
Leave before sunset tomorrow.
No signature.
No explanation.
Only those words.
I searched the ground with my flashlight.
Fresh boot prints led toward the woods.
Large.
Adult.
One person.
Whoever had come here wanted us to know he'd been watching.
Back inside, I locked every window.
Emma quietly asked,
"He didn't see the box... did he?"
"What box?"
Both girls looked horrified.
Then Ella covered her own mouth as though she'd said too much.
Before they could answer, a police cruiser finally climbed the gravel driveway.
Relief washed over me.
Deputy Mark Collins stepped out.
Mid-fifties.
Friendly face.
I'd known him years ago when Olivia and I spent summers here.
"Ethan?"
He looked genuinely surprised.
"I heard someone was staying up here."
"You know these girls?"
His smile disappeared.
"I've never seen them."
He questioned Emma and Ella gently.
Neither gave their last name.
Neither knew their birthday.
Neither could tell him where they had lived before the mountain.
Only one answer remained consistent.
"Flower lady took care of us."
Mark frowned.
"Ethan... Olivia died three years ago."
"I know."
The deputy hesitated.
Then he quietly admitted something that made my skin crawl.
"This isn't the first strange report we've had."
"What do you mean?"
"People hiking near this property keep reporting children."
"What children?"
"Little girls."
"They disappear before anyone reaches them."
My stomach tightened.
"They always disappear near your wife's trail."
The same hidden trail.
The trail only Olivia had ever used.
As Mark prepared to leave, he pulled me aside.
"One more thing."
He lowered his voice.
"The old Henderson cabin burned down six years ago."
"So?"
"A woman died in that fire."
He handed me an old newspaper clipping from his truck.
The headline read:
LOCAL WOMAN MISSING AFTER MOUNTAIN FIRE. TWIN DAUGHTERS NEVER FOUND.
The blurry photograph beneath the headline showed a smiling young mother.
Standing beside her...
Two identical little blonde girls.
Emma.
Ella.
The article was dated...
Six years ago.
But the twins sitting inside my cottage looked exactly seven years old.
May you like
They hadn't aged.
Not one day.
