Chapter 3
The officers resumed their search. They checked every closet, peered beneath the bed, and examined the storage nook. But every corner they inspected yielded nothing. No one was there.
"Captain Carter," the younger officer called from the kitchen. "There is something in the refrigerator."
We gathered around as the door swung open.
A gust of frigid air rolled out. Inside, sitting alone on the middle shelf, was a single bottle of yogurt. The brand was unfamiliar to me. The production date stamped on the cap read three days ago.
"I have never purchased this brand in my life," I said.
Carter sealed the bottle carefully inside an evidence bag. "We will take this to the lab for fingerprint and DNA analysis."
He paused and then asked, "Are any valuables missing? Documents? Cash?"
I hurried into the bedroom, threw open the closet, and opened my jewelry box. Then I went to the study and rifled through the drawers where I kept spare money and important papers.
Everything was exactly as I had left it.
Whoever this other version of me was, she had no interest in my possessions. She did not want my money.
She wanted my life. Or rather, she wanted to borrow it.
She wore my nightgown. She drank her own yogurt. She rearranged my furniture as if she had a perfect right to do so.
She moved through these rooms like she was the true owner, living out some strange, solitary ritual of her own making.
"Nothing is missing," I told Carter.
He nodded, unsurprised. "Ms. Quinn, we'll station plainclothes officers downstairs and at your building entrance.
"Do not sleep here for the next few nights. Book a hotel room or stay with a friend."
I would not dream of staying. The mere thought of that other "me" wandering the living room while I slept made my skin crawl.
"Officer Carter, who is she? What does she want?" I asked.
Carter stood still, his eyes on the sofa. "I have no answer.
"But one thing is clear. This sofa is solid wood and very heavy. Most women could not move it alone.
"She is either unusually strong, or she knows a trick for shifting things in this room."
*****
The police departed. Before leaving, Carter tucked a tiny camera inside my peephole. The feed streamed straight to my phone, around the clock.
Mary left as well. After the night's events, she looked at me with a blend of pity and unease.
I stood alone on the sixteenth floor. One glance at that displaced sofa sent a shiver through my whole body.
I could not remain there another moment. I grabbed my suitcase and fled as though my life depended on it.
I checked into a nearby hotel. After a shower, I lay in bed, wide awake. My mind kept returning to that silhouette in the footage, the one that mirrored my own shape exactly.
Who was she? Was she human, or something else?
If she were flesh and blood, how did she slip in and out without a single trace? And if she were a ghost—no, I refused to follow that path.
I picked up my phone and opened the surveillance app. The hallway outside my door sat quiet and empty.
Then I logged into the building's public camera feed, the one management had allowed me to access, and switched to the view facing my apartment window. The time read 9:50 PM.
I watched the screen, counting the seconds.
At 10 PM sharp, the living room light in apartment 1602 clicked on, exactly on schedule.
My heart seized. She was back.
I called Carter immediately. He said they had spotted it already and told me to stay calm. "Wait for our direction," he said.
I hung up, my palms damp with cold sweat.
I flipped back to the front door camera. There was nothing. I checked the elevator and stairwell feeds. There was no movement anywhere.
She appeared like a phantom, materializing from nowhere and turning on the lights punctually.
At 2 AM, the light switched off, precisely on time. The rest of the night passed without incident.
*****
Early the next morning, Carter called. They had kept watch all night and found nothing.
It was as though that other me had never existed. The only proof of her presence was the living room light, turning on and off with mechanical regularity.
"Ms. Quinn, think carefully. Have you angered anyone lately? Noticed anything strange at all?" Carter asked.
I considered this for a long moment. My job was straightforward, and my social circle contained no drama.
The only shift in my relationships was parting ways with my former boyfriend, Michael Stone, a little over a month ago.
It was a peaceful split. There was no bitterness lingering, and he never learned the code to my door.
"No," I replied.
"Then we keep searching for clues about the intruder," Carter said. "We will maintain surveillance on your apartment. Stay alert."
After the call ended, a heavy exhaustion settled over me.
I couldn't simply sit and wait. That other "me" was no ghost or trick of the mind.
She drank yogurt. She hauled a heavy sofa. She left traces of her life in every corner. If she were real, she had to have left something behind.
A bold idea struck me. I needed to go back and search my apartment, inch by inch, for anything she might have missed.