Page 97 of The Truth in My Lies (Secrets of Suburbi 1)

“Addy, your husband will be home soon. Let me come grab the files real quick.”

I looked down at my watch. I still had an hour until my husband arrived home. My eyes darted around the woods. I had to be missing something. I began to dig where the first cross had been.

“The girls and I are just finishing up. I’ll be there in 30 minutes. ”

“We don’t have 30 minutes. We agreed that you wouldn’t be home when he got there. We need to get you to a safe location.”

I ran over to the last cross and started digging. My fingers hit something hard. Jackpot.

“It’s the last time I’ve ever going to see them,” I said. “I just need a few more minutes.”

“You really must be drunk. You hate these women.”

“Hate is such a strong word.” I pulled out a box that was similar to the first and lifted off the lid.

“Come over now. I’ve already contacted the local authorities. They’re bringing him in for questioning as soon as his car pulls in. You don’t need to be there for this. It’s over, Addy.”

I picked up one of the many passports that were in the box. I opened it up and there was a sticky note with my name on it. What the hell? I lifted the sticky note. An image of me stared back at me. But it wasn’t me. The woman’s name was Jennifer Clarke. How was that possible? It looked just like me. Had someone doctored my passport?

“Addy?”

I grabbed another passport. The name on the sticky note didn’t match the name inside the passport again. But the picture in this passport didn’t resemble me. It looked like one of the women from my box of pictures. Again, it felt like I knew her. Like we'd used to be friends.

“Addy?”

I grabbed another passport. This sticky note said Juanita Howe. I lifted it off and stared at the passport image of Maria Gonzalez. “Does the name Juanita Howe mean anything to you?”

“No. Should it?”

“Ben, I think that my husband was giving the victims’ wives and girlfriends new identities. I found this box…” I let my voice trail off.

The letters from Dr. Nash had warned me not to tell anyone. I suddenly felt dizzy. And the women had been hurt. I had pictures of them in pain. Why would my husband help them when all he had ever done was hurt me?

“A box of what?” Ben asked.

I knew I could trust him. I had already determined that. So why was I hesitating? The stories rolled around in my head. But they were just stories. Planted there by my husband. I never left the house. I didn’t have any friends.

“A box of passports,” I said. “And there’s a sticky note with each one that doesn’t match the name on the passport. Maria Gonzalez’s passport is one of them. The name on the corresponding sticky note is Juanita Howe.” I could hear him typing something on a computer.

“You think that Juanita Howe is her new identity?” he asked.

I looked around at the few remaining crosses. It was like a graveyard. Like old identities came to rest here. I thought back to the passport of Jennifer Clarke. I think I’d remember being someone else. But this wasn’t about me. This was about helping these women. “Yes, I think it’s definitely possible. You said all the women were missing. Maybe you can’t find them because they changed their names.” I opened and closed more passports, looking for any other names that seemed familiar. There was another letter at the bottom of the box, but I had no desire to open it. Dr. Nash was insane. Her words meant nothing to me. I was never the crazy one. She was.

“I found a hit on Juanita Howe’s location,” Ben said. “She’s actually still in the Bronx. I’m going to make a call to bring her in for questioning. She can probably identify your husband. Maybe the Dr. Nash impersonator too.”

“That’s great.” I continued sifting through the passports until my hand froze. There was a sticky note that read Jennifer Clarke. Which meant Jennifer Clarke had a different identity before she became Jennifer Clarke. My hands started shaking as I lifted up the sticky note. Even though I knew all of it was nonsense. Whatever it said was a lie. Because I was me. I was Adeline Bell.

The pain in my head returned.

“Ben, I’ll be over soon, okay?” I hung up before he had a chance to answer.

The woman staring back at me was me. But the name beside it was Katrina Nash. Dr. Katrina Nash.

Chapter 48

I’m being set up. It was the only logical conclusion. My husband is framing me for murder. I threw Dr. Nash’s passport back into the mud and picked up another. And another. And another. All the names swirled around in my head.

I stopped when I opened a passport without a sticky note attached. Tears started running down my cheeks. It was my father. I remembered his face. His voice. His eyes. I had his eyes. He had no new identity. Because I had killed him.

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