Page 112 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

He could feel the bile rising in his throat.

She had always wanted a dog, though he couldn’t abide the awful things. The fur they left everywhere, and the smell. Dirty creatures, not fit to clean his shoes.

He looked for a mention of her previous life, of him, her husband, but there was nothing.

It was as if she had not existed until now.

As if their lives together, their marriage, had meant nothing at all.

The door opened as his surgeon returned with his jacket in hand.

“Here. If there is any sign of an infection, call me, otherwise you’re as good as done.”

Marko could barely hear his words over the pounding of his own heart.

“Good.”

He needed to get out of there. He needed to think. Grabbing his jacket, he hurried out of the room.

The walk back to his car was a blur.

He might have pushed past a housewife and her brat who had gotten in his way. She had shouted at him, full of indignant righteousness, until she had seen the expression in his eyes and felt the fury that was only held back by a thread. Pushing her brat behind her, she’d backed away.

At least she had known her place.

Arriving back to his car, Marko searched Google furiously for what information he could about his wife, but there was nothing except that same story that had obviously been created for her, recreated almost word for word.

No site ever mentioned where she was truly from or her real name, constantly referring to her as that ridiculous Jane Smith, which begged the question, why?

What on earth was happening here?

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He grabbed his head, squeezing it until tears pricked his eyes and the noise dialed down. Only then did one thought became abundantly clear.

If his wife was alive, he was going to get her back. And no movie star, or anyone else, was going to stop him.

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