I cried in my husband’s arms at the airport as he boarded what he claimed was a two-year work assignment in Zurich

The photo showed me and Lucas leaving the house together that morning, each of us dressed for the airport. Lucas was smiling. I was looking down, pretending to search for something in my purse. It was ordinary enough, almost dull.

Except someone had been watching us.

I enlarged the image with trembling fingers.

In the reflection of the living room window, barely visible behind the porch column, was a figure standing near the side gate.

A woman.

Dark coat. Sunglasses. One hand resting on her rounded stomach.

Melanie Harper.

I stared until my eyes burned.

My phone buzzed again.

Another message.

“Don’t transfer the money yet.”