Chapter 3Not My Husband In My Bed

The words died in my throat as the implication hit me.

If Jamie hadn't come home... then who was the man I spent the night with?

The thought felt like an electric shock to my system. "No... no, that’s not right."

I started pacing, my nails digging into the backs of my hands until I drew blood. The two detectives watched me with a growing sense of unease.

Briggs stepped forward, gently taking my hands in hers. "Naomi, look at me. We aren't saying we don't believe you. We’re just trying to reconcile the facts. We’ve already put a trace on your husband’s phone. We need to find him."

The mention of Jamie's phone made me hysterical. I grabbed her sleeves. "I’ve called him a dozen times! He won't answer! Is he... is he the killer? Or is he the victim? Where is he?"

"Mrs. Brooks," the male officer interrupted. "Calm down."

"How can I be calm? Whose hand is that? Are they dead? Am I next?" I collapsed into a chair, my body wracked with tremors.

Suddenly, the male officer's phone rang. He looked at the screen, then at me. He put it on speaker.

It was Jamie’s voice. The familiar, low baritone that had comforted me for nearly a decade.

"Naomi? Honey? I’m in the middle of a conference, I just got the message from the precinct... are you okay? The officer told me what happened..."

Hearing his voice felt like the sun breaking through a storm. The tears finally flowed freely. He was alive. He wasn't the hand. He wasn't a monster.

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, only to have it snatched away by his next sentence.

"Officer, I don't know what my wife told you," Jamie said, his voice sounding genuinely baffled. "But I’ve been out of town since the 30th of March. I haven't been home in a week, and I certainly didn't give her any gifts."

A prehistoric chill crawled up my spine.

If it wasn't him... then who was the man who had touched me? Who had slept in my bed?

How could I not know my own husband? The face, the voice, the smell... it was all him.

"Mr. Brooks, we’re going to need you to come in as soon as you land," the officer said.

"I’m catching the first flight back," Jamie replied, sounding frantic. "Naomi? Baby, just listen to the police. Do whatever they say. I’ll be there soon. Please, take care of her."

The line went dead.

I sat there, staring at the floor, Jamie’s words looping in my head. I haven't been home in a week.

The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. Detective Briggs knelt beside me, her hand on my shoulder.

"Naomi... if your husband wasn't here on April Fool's Day... who was the man in your house?"

The words were stuck in my throat. The person who had impersonated Jamie... who had shared my dinner and my bed...

Who was he? What did he want? Was he the one who left the hand?

Briggs helped me to my feet. "Naomi, for your own safety, we need to take you down to the station. We need to get a formal statement."

I didn't argue. I followed them out of the house like a ghost, sticking so close to Briggs that I was practically stepping on her heels. The bright afternoon sun felt cold against my skin.

It wasn't until we were in the sterile, fluorescent-lit interrogation room at the precinct that I began to feel a sliver of reality return. Detective Briggs—her first name was Cassidy, I learned—sat across from me.

"How long have you and Jameson been married?" she asked softly.

"Eight years," I whispered. "He’s everything to me. I don't have a job, I don't have many friends... he takes care of everything. Everyone in our neighborhood knows how much he spoils me."

Cassidy nodded, scribbling in her notebook. "And this man... the one you thought was your husband. Was the resemblance really that perfect?"

"Yes," I said, my fingers twitching. "The voice. The mannerisms. We had dinner by candlelight... the lights were low. I didn't see anything wrong. Why would I? Who expects their husband to be a stranger?"

Cassidy went silent for a moment. She stood up and walked around the table, looking down at me with an expression that looked far too much like pity.

"Naomi, we’ve reviewed the wider surveillance footage from your neighborhood. Not just your house, but the entire block."

She paused, her voice dropping to a somber low.

"There is no record of anyone resembling your husband entering or leaving that area on the 1st. In fact, the only person seen on camera... was you."

"What... what are you saying?" I asked, my heart skipping a beat.

"The footage shows you coming home alone. You were carrying that gift box yourself."