Chapter 3

After dinner, Ethan helped Mom clear the dishes.

Mom said it wasn't necessary, but he insisted, carrying plates into the kitchen.

Dad took this opportunity to call me into his study.

He closed the door, and his expression completely changed.

"How did you meet him?" he asked directly.

"At a friend's gathering. He was the one who added me on SnapChat," I said.

"He pursued you?"

"Yeah."

"For how long?"

"About a month. He picked me up from work every day, took me out on weekends. He was really attentive."

Dad didn't respond, sitting down at his desk.

"Dad, aren't you overthinking this?"

I ventured carefully, "Isn't it normal for someone who served in the military to have calluses? A leg injury could have come from training exercises in the service."

"When he walks, his right leg rotates outward," Dad interrupted me. "Do you know what kind of injury causes that posture?"

I shook my head.

"A bullet wound to the hip joint or thigh, with the bullet lodged in the bone. After it's removed, walking looks like that. This isn't a training injury—training injuries don't change your gait."

"I've been a detective my whole life. I'm not wrong about this."

I opened my mouth but didn't know what to say.

"Also, there's a patch of noticeably hard skin on Ethan's left hand, between his thumb and index finger."

"That comes from holding a gun long-term. A regular soldier serving two years wouldn't develop that. The thickness of those calluses takes at least five years."

"Two years versus five years—that's almost triple the difference. Why would he understate it?"

I couldn't answer.

Dad picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number.

"Hello, Jack, this is Robert Mitchell. I need you to run a background check on someone... Yes, I need it today. Ethan, from Wisconsin."

After hanging up, Dad looked at me.

"Tonight, have him stay at a hotel, not here at home. Until we know for sure, I don't want him coming through that door."

When I came out of the study, Ethan was sitting on the couch watching TV.

Seeing me emerge, Ethan patted the seat next to him. "Come sit. This show's pretty interesting."

I walked over and sat down. He naturally put his arm around my shoulders.

"What did your dad want to talk about?" he asked casually.

"Nothing much, just asking about your company."

I looked at the man in front of me, and everything seemed normal.

But also not normal.

"I'll book you a hotel for tonight. We don't have a spare room."

He glanced at me. "Okay."

He didn't ask any questions.

We'd been dating for eight months, and he'd never argued with me, never refused anything I asked.

Now that I thought about it.

Who could be that perfect?

At one in the morning, I couldn't sleep.

I suddenly remembered something.

We'd been together for eight months, and he'd never let me visit his company.

Every time I offered to pick him up, he'd say, "I'm working late today, don't come. I'll come to you."

Where was his company, really?

The next morning, Dad was up before me.

"Jack found out a few things."

"First, the identity 'Ethan' does exist, but the address registration was transferred from Wisconsin to here three years ago. The original records before the transfer can't be found."

"Second, the security company he says he runs—he's not the registered owner. It's registered to a woman named Rebecca Hayes. What's his relationship to her? Don't know."

"Third, and most importantly."

"The photo on his ID matches someone in the fugitive database with ninety-one percent accuracy."

My heart felt like someone had seized it.

"What fugitive?"

"In 2017, there was a gun-related incident in the Southwest. The suspect fled and hasn't been apprehended since."

"DNA and fingerprints were recovered from the scene, but the identity was never confirmed."

I sat on the couch, my whole body cold.

"Dad, are you sure?"

"Ninety-one percent match isn't one hundred percent, so I haven't drawn a final conclusion yet."

He looked at me, his eyes serious.

"Today, you're going to ask him out. Find a way to get his fingerprints."

Dad pulled out a pair of transparent gloves and a glass from a drawer.

"Get him to drink water. Don't wash the glass. Bring it back to me. Jack has connections to compare it against the fingerprint database."

I stared at the glass, my hands trembling.