“Hired,” Officer Ramirez said quietly. “We found instructions on his phone.”
My stomach tightened. “From my husband?”
She didn’t answer, but her eyes did.
Another officer approached. “Ma’am, your husband booked a flight but didn’t get on it. His car is here. We’ve issued a BOLO.”
Lily whispered, “Daddy said we wouldn’t be here when it’s done.”
Outside, as they escorted us to a patrol car, I looked back at the house.
Across the street, behind a shadowy tree line, a silhouette held up a phone—recording.
Then it slipped away into the dark.
