Chapter 3

The next morning, Claire and I went back home.

We watched the technicians wire four cameras into the living room, bedroom, balcony, and entryway.

For the rest of the day, the live feeds were terrifyingly quiet.

Around dusk, Detective Ward called.

"For the past three months, aside from you, Claire, and your friend Marcus, no unauthorized visitors have accessed your floor. All other unfamiliar faces were verified delivery drivers."

He paused.

"Mr. Ethan, we'll keep looking into it."

After I hung up, Claire went to take a shower.

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at the camera feeds on my phone.

A second later, all four screens went pitch black.

The remote connection dropped.

My blood ran cold.

That system was just installed and hardwired for power. Even if the Wi-Fi dropped, it shouldn't have completely vanished.

I grabbed my phone, bolted out of the hotel, and called an Uber.

Claire ran out of the bathroom, shouting through the phone: "Ethan, where are you going?"

"The cameras are dead. He's in my apartment."

"Wait for me, I'm coming right now."

"There's no time."

I texted Detective Ward and dialed 911.

The car pulled up to Riverview Apartments, and I sprinted inside. The elevator was stuck on a high floor, so I hit the stairwell, taking the steps all the way up to the twelfth floor.

My keys dropped in the hallway, the metal clattering sharply.

I snatched them up and shoved the key into the lock.

The second the door opened, the smell of my own cologne hit me.

The living room lights were on.

A man was lounging on my sofa, legs crossed, scrolling through my iPad.

He had my hair. He had my build.

He looked up.

And he had my face.

Chapter 3

The next morning, Claire and I went back home.

We watched the technicians wire four cameras into the living room, bedroom, balcony, and entryway.

For the rest of the day, the live feeds were terrifyingly quiet.

Around dusk, Detective Ward called.

"For the past three months, aside from you, Claire, and your friend Marcus, no unauthorized visitors have accessed your floor. All other unfamiliar faces were verified delivery drivers."

He paused.

"Mr. Ethan, we'll keep looking into it."

After I hung up, Claire went to take a shower.

I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, staring at the camera feeds on my phone.

A second later, all four screens went pitch black.

The remote connection dropped.

My blood ran cold.

That system was just installed and hardwired for power. Even if the Wi-Fi dropped, it shouldn't have completely vanished.

I grabbed my phone, bolted out of the hotel, and called an Uber.

Claire ran out of the bathroom, shouting through the phone: "Ethan, where are you going?"

"The cameras are dead. He's in my apartment."

"Wait for me, I'm coming right now."

"There's no time."

I texted Detective Ward and dialed 911.

The car pulled up to Riverview Apartments, and I sprinted inside. The elevator was stuck on a high floor, so I hit the stairwell, taking the steps all the way up to the twelfth floor.

My keys dropped in the hallway, the metal clattering sharply.

I snatched them up and shoved the key into the lock.

The second the door opened, the smell of my own cologne hit me.

The living room lights were on.

A man was lounging on my sofa, legs crossed, scrolling through my iPad.

He had my hair. He had my build.

He looked up.

And he had my face.