Chapter 2: The Woman Who Died Wasn't Supposed to Be Marissa
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the mannequin lying in my bed.
Her blond wig.
Marissa's wedding ring.
The painted beauty mark.
Someone had spent hours creating that illusion.
Not to fool the police.
To fool me.
Whoever planned this knew exactly how I lived.
They knew I wouldn't check on my wife while she "rested."
They knew I'd be in the garage.
They knew rain would keep the neighbors indoors.
They knew every minute of my Saturday.
That realization terrified me more than the reported accident.
Because accidents happen.
Planning doesn't.
By sunrise, the house had become an active crime scene.
Yellow tape stretched across the front porch.
Forensic photographers moved from room to room.
Every cabinet was opened.
Every fingerprint was collected.
Every security camera in the neighborhood had been requested.
Officer Bruce Jackson found me sitting alone on the back steps with a paper cup of coffee that had long since gone cold.
"You should get some rest."
I laughed quietly.
"My wife died yesterday."
He looked at me carefully.
"Maybe."
I turned toward him.
"What do you mean, maybe?"
He sat beside me.
"The body from the accident..."
He hesitated.
"...was burned beyond visual identification."
I stared at him.
"You said it was Marissa."
"We believed it was."
"Because of her purse."
"And her driver's license."
"And her wedding ring."
He nodded.
"Yes."
Something inside me shifted.
"You don't know who died."
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
An hour later, Daniel arrived carrying two coffees and another folder.
"You look terrible."
"I feel worse."
He handed me one cup.
"I spent all night at the Marriott."
"You found something."
"I found someone."
He opened the folder.
The first photograph showed Marissa walking through the hotel lobby.
Timestamp:
Friday.
9:42 p.m.
Less than twelve hours before the supposed accident.
Beside her wasn't Julian.
It was a woman.
About the same height.
The same blond hair.
Wearing the same navy trench coat Marissa owned.
At first glance...
They looked almost identical.
"Who's that?"
Daniel slid over another page.
"Her name is Rebecca Nolan."
I frowned.
"I've never heard that name."
"Neither had I."
He handed me a driver's license photo.
Age thirty-six.
Former cosmetics artist.
Temporary employment history.
No close relatives.
Then came the part that made my stomach tighten.
"She disappeared Friday night."
I looked up slowly.
"Disappeared?"
Daniel nodded.
"No one has heard from her."
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I looked back at Rebecca's photograph.
She wasn't just similar to Marissa.
With professional makeup...
She could become Marissa.
Officer Jackson joined us.
"You should see this."
He carried a clear evidence bag.
Inside...
Were fragments of melted plastic recovered from the crash.
"What is that?"
"Our lab thinks..."
He paused.
"...they belonged to a silicone facial appliance."
Daniel and I looked at each other.
"A disguise?"
Jackson nodded.
"The medical examiner found adhesive residue around the victim's jaw."
Silence.
The dead woman hadn't simply been carrying Marissa's identification.
She had been dressed to resemble her.
Someone wanted investigators to believe the victim was my wife.
"Why?"
I whispered.
Daniel answered first.
"Because if everyone believes Marissa is dead..."
"...no one looks for her."
Officer Jackson slowly nodded.
"And dead people can't be charged."
The words landed like a hammer.
Insurance.
Corporate theft.
Forgery.
Identity fraud.
If Marissa had stolen company documents...
Death would end the investigation.
At least temporarily.
Jackson's radio crackled.
He listened for a moment before standing.
"The lab finished examining the mannequin."
I frowned.
"They found something?"
"They found fingerprints."
"Mine?"
"No."
He looked directly at me.
"Julian's."
Everything stopped.
Daniel leaned forward.
"You're certain?"
"They were on the metal support inside the mannequin."
The three of us remained silent.
Julian hadn't simply known about the fake body.
He had helped assemble it.
That afternoon I returned to the office for the first time since the accident.
Employees stood the moment I walked inside.
Sympathy filled every face.
Flowers covered the reception desk.
Someone had placed a framed photograph of Marissa beside the guest book.
I almost couldn't breathe.
They were mourning someone who might still be alive.
Julian emerged from the conference room wearing a black tie.
His eyes looked red.
Almost convincing.
"Ethan..."
He embraced me before I could react.
"I'm so sorry."
His performance would have fooled anyone.
Not me.
Not anymore.
I stepped back.
"Thank you."
He studied my face.
"You haven't been sleeping."
"No."
"Understandable."
He lowered his voice.
"The board meeting is tomorrow."
"I know."
"We should postpone."
I looked at him carefully.
"Why?"
"You need time."
"No."
I smiled faintly.
"I think tomorrow is perfect."
For the briefest second...
Something nervous crossed his face.
Then it disappeared.
"I'll handle everything."
"I know you will."
He walked away.
Daniel, who had watched the exchange from the hallway, whispered,
"He has no idea."
"No."
I replied quietly.
"He thinks I'm grieving."
Late that evening, Officer Jackson called.
"We identified the victim."
My heart pounded.
"Who was she?"
"Rebecca Nolan."
I closed my eyes.
"So Marissa isn't dead."
"No."
"She's officially a fugitive."
"And Julian?"
Jackson's voice hardened.
"We're preparing warrants."
Before hanging up, he added one final sentence.
"Mr. Mercer..."
"Yes?"
"I don't think your wife planned this alone."
After the call ended, I stood alone in the dark office looking out over the rain-soaked parking lot.
Then I noticed something unusual.
Across the street...
A black SUV sat with its headlights off.
Watching the building.
Watching me.
The engine started.
Slowly...
The vehicle pulled away.
Daniel looked through the window just in time to catch the license plate.
His face lost all color.
"I've seen that SUV before."
"Where?"
He swallowed.
"Outside your house..."
He paused.
"...three months before Marissa was supposed to die."
Neither of us spoke.
Because we both understood the same terrifying truth.
The plan hadn't started with an affair.
It hadn't started with stolen documents.
It hadn't even started with the mannequin.
Someone had been watching me for months.
May you like
And Marissa wasn't running from the police.
She was running toward someone who had been planning this long before either of us realized we were part of the game.
