Chapter 1

01

Two in the morning. The cold light of my phone screen slid across my face and left a strange bright streak behind it.

On the other end of the line, my buddy Hunter Reed's voice came fast and low. "Boris Fox, I think I just saw your wife. She went into the Hilton with some guy."

On reflex I turned my head. Beside me, my wife, Linda Pruitt, was breathing slow and even, sound asleep.

She'd gotten home from working late less than two hours ago, exhaustion still sitting between her brows, the kind that wouldn't smooth away.

I dropped my voice and spoke into the phone, calm. "You saw wrong. Send me the address and room number."

"No, Boris, listen to me, I really didn't see wrong!" Hunter was so worked up he practically jumped out of his skin. "That figure, that way she walks like she owns the place, and that cream Chanel suit. I'd know it if you burned it to ash. Isn't that the same power outfit you were bragging about last month, the one you bought your wife?"

I didn't answer right away. I looked back at Linda beside me. She was curled quietly under the covers like a small cat with all its guard down, her long hair spread like seaweed across half the pillow. I could even catch the clean scent of the ginger shampoo I'd picked out for her. Everything was so real, so peaceful.

"She was in meetings all day today, just got back, so wiped out she fell asleep before she even finished her bath." I kept my voice as steady as I could. "You've definitely got the wrong person."

"No way!" Hunter's voice was flat certain. "I'm telling you, I even saw the car. Parked right outside their hotel, that white Porsche Panamera. I made a point of checking the plate. You think I'd get that wrong? I stood there wondering why your wife would be running off to a hotel this late."

……

That string of letters and numbers hit my brain like a little hammer. That car was our third anniversary gift, and I'd pulled a lot of strings to land that exact plate. It meant a great deal to both of us.

"She's wearing that suit today, yeah, but she's right here next to me. In her pajamas." I couldn't keep a thread of confusion out of my voice now.

"In her pajamas? Next to you?" Hunter sounded just as lost. "Boris, you sure you're not sleepwalking? Pinch yourself, maybe? I watched with my own eyes, a woman who looks exactly like your wife went into room 1708 with some pretty boy!"

My heart dropped hard.

I eased myself out of bed, bare feet on the cold wood floor. I didn't turn on any lights. By the moonlight coming through the window I walked to the living room. At the entryway, on the brass hook we kept just for keys, a set of car keys sat quietly. The Porsche crest still stood out clearly in the dark.

The keys were here.

I took out my phone and opened an app called Porsche Connect. Password, fingerprint, and the interface loaded. I drew in a breath and tapped Vehicle Location.

The map on the screen zoomed, a small white arrow blinked, then locked precisely onto one point. Under the point ran a line of small text: Hilton Hotel — Underground Parking, Level B2.

For a second I felt all the blood in my body rush to my head. The room spun.

It made no sense. The keys were in my hand, but the car was at a hotel twenty miles away.

"Boris? Boris? You still there? Damn it, don't scare me!" Hunter's voice came out of the earpiece and pulled me back out of the shock.

"I'm fine." I braced a hand against the wall and steadied myself. "You're sure it was room 1708?"

"Dead sure. The guy swiped the key card."

"Okay." I hung up and immediately dialed another number, the property security office at my garage.

"Hi, is this Alex Finch? This is Mr. Fox, Building 1, unit 1801. Can you do me a favor and check when my wife's white Porsche left the garage tonight?"

Alex clearly hadn't gone to bed, and he had an answer fast. "Hello, Mr. Fox. I pulled the footage for you. Your wife's car went out around 11:45 tonight. She was driving it herself. The guy at our booth even said hello to her."

11:45?

But Linda didn't get home until 12:30. When she came in, I helped her out of her heels, she was almost collapsing, complaining that the meeting had just wrapped and she'd rushed home without even a sip of water. The times didn't line up at all.

One contradiction after another wrapped around me like a huge net, pulling tight. I trusted my wife. I knew everything she'd poured into this home, into her career. She wasn't the kind of person who would betray her family.

But the facts in front of me stung like poison barbs, one after another, until I couldn't breathe.

I couldn't just sit here and wait.

I turned back into the bedroom and looked at Linda asleep on the bed, and a fierce urge to protect her rose up in me. Whatever was happening out there, the first thing I had to do was keep her safe. From the study I dug out a tiny camera I'd bought earlier, meant for the nursery, and carefully set it behind an ornament on the bookshelf, aimed straight at the bed. By the time I finished, my palms were slick with cold sweat.

I wasn't suspecting her. I was guarding against that unknown, uncanny "third party."

Finally, I picked up my own car keys. I didn't spare another glance at that extra set of Porsche keys on the hook. I pulled the door shut softly and walked out into the bottomless dark of the night.