He looked into her eyes.
«And he—the caring husband who waits, searches, worries—has the perfect alibi.»
Chloe felt a chill run down her spine. James’s plan was calculated down to the smallest detail. He accompanied her to the station, bought coffee in front of witnesses, played the attentive husband, gave her the poisoned drink, and put her on the train.
And then nature and the drug would do the rest.
«Wait,» she suddenly said. «I remember which train. I was going to my parents. But Anthony, you said you were heading to a conference in the east. How did we end up in the same car?»
Anthony’s face turned stone cold.
«Because you weren’t going to your parents, Chloe. You were on a through train crossing the entire country to the east. Eight days of travel.»
Chloe couldn’t breathe. The room swam before her eyes.
«That’s impossible. I bought a ticket to my parents. I saw my seat.»
«I checked your ticket,» Anthony said calmly.
When she was unconscious, he had found it. He pulled a folded sheet from his pocket and handed it to her.
«See for yourself.»
Chloe unfolded the ticket with trembling hands. Long distance train. Route: across the entire country. Car seven, compartment. Ticket issued in the name: Wendy Burton.
A stranger’s name.
«That’s not me. That’s not my name.»
«I know. Your husband bought this ticket in advance, under a false name, and on the day of departure swapped it. You were flustered, in a hurry, didn’t check carefully. The conductor doesn’t look at documents, only at the compartment number. James calculated everything.»
Chloe clenched the ticket in her fist, crumpling the paper. So he didn’t just want her to disappear. He was sending her to the other side of the country.
There, without memory and without documents, she would be nobody. Just a nameless woman, found somewhere on the street.
«My parents,» she whispered. «They’re waiting for me. Mom will call when I don’t show up.» She abruptly raised her eyes. «My phone?»
Anthony nodded. «You had a phone.»
Chloe tried to remember. «It was in my jacket pocket.»
«Jacket?» She shook her head, confused. «I don’t know.»
«When you were brought here, you had a jacket and a bag,» Anthony replied. «Everything’s here.»
Anthony walked to the locker in the corner of the room, took out her blue jacket, searched the pockets, and pulled out the phone.
«Here. But it’s dead.»
He connected the phone to a charger he took from his backpack. A minute later, the screen lit up. Chloe saw thirty-seven missed calls from her mother, twenty messages, five calls from her father.
And not a single one from James. He didn’t even call to see if she got there. She stared at the screen, unable to believe her eyes.
«He didn’t even call.»
«Why would he?» Anthony’s voice was harsh. «He thought you didn’t remember anything.»
He paused.
«Chloe, we need to get in touch with the police. I’ve already spoken with the local investigators, but this case needs to be handled at home, where the crime was committed.»
«I have a friend,» Chloe remembered. «Sarah Lampard. We studied together at university. She works as a detective in the major crimes division.»
«Perfect,» Anthony nodded. «Call her. Tell her everything. The sooner we start acting, the better our chances of catching your husband in the act.»
Chloe dialed the number with trembling fingers. The ringing seemed endless.
«Chloe?» Sarah’s voice sounded worried. «My God, where are you? Your mother called me, said you didn’t arrive, and your phone was unreachable. James says you got on a train, but no one met you there. What’s going on?»
«Sarah.» Chloe swallowed the lump in her throat. «I need your help. Official help. As a detective.»
She took a breath.
«James tried to kill me, or do something even worse.»
There was silence. Then Sarah asked, her voice now professionally composed: «Where are you now?»
«In a hospital, in another city, with me is a toxicologist who saved my life. We have evidence, blood tests, a ticket in someone else’s name. Sarah, he gave me a drug to make me lose my memory.»
«He put me on that train. I was supposed to disappear.»
«Stay there,» Sarah said, apparently already taking notes. «Give me the doctor’s number. I need all medical documents, all test results. And don’t call anyone else. Especially James.»
«He mustn’t know you’re conscious and remember everything. That’s our advantage.»
Chloe handed the phone to Anthony. He gave Sarah his information, the numbers of colleagues from the lab where the tests were sent. He spoke professionally, clearly, listing medical terms and indicators.
Chloe listened and realized: this was real, not a nightmare, not delusion. Her husband had truly tried to destroy her life.
When Anthony finished the call and returned the phone, Chloe quietly asked: «What now?»
«Now we wait.» He sat back down in the chair next to her bed. «Your friend will start gathering evidence. She’ll check the station cameras, find footage showing James buying coffee and slipping something into the cup.»
«She’ll pull financial records, check where he got the money for such an expensive drug. She’ll find who sold it to him. Meanwhile, we stay here, safe.»
«And what about my mom?» Chloe looked at the phone. «She’s going crazy with worry.»
«Call her,» Anthony nodded. «Tell her you suddenly got a fever. You got off the train at one of the stations and ended up in a hospital with a cold. Don’t say anything about James. The fewer people know the truth right now, the better.»
Chloe dialed her mother’s number. She answered on the first ring.
«Chloe, my God, sweetheart, what happened? Where are you?»
«Mom, everything’s fine.» Chloe tried to sound calm. «I just got a fever on the train. I felt unwell. I had to get off and go to the hospital. I’m better now, but the doctor said I shouldn’t travel yet.»
«Mom, I’ll come, but a little later.»
«All right. Fever?» Mom clearly didn’t fully believe her. «Should your dad and I come to you?»
«No, really, it’s not necessary. I’m with doctors here. Everything’s under control. I’ll come myself soon, I promise.»
They talked a few more minutes. Her mother calmed down, but Chloe felt lying to her parents had always been hard. Her mother sensed something, but fortunately didn’t press.
When Chloe hung up, a nurse entered the room with a tray. It was lunchtime. She placed broth, tea, and crackers on the bedside table.
«The doctor said you should only have light food for now.»
«Thank you.» Chloe looked at the plate without appetite.
She had to eat. Anthony moved the table closer.
«You need your strength. It won’t be easy ahead.»
Chloe picked up a spoon and took a sip of the broth. It was warm, slightly salty, and her stomach unexpectedly reminded her that she hadn’t eaten for almost two days. She started eating slowly, in small portions, while Anthony sat nearby, looking out the window, lost in thought.
«Anthony,» she called after a while. «Why did you help me? I mean, we haven’t seen each other for fifteen years. You could have just called the doctors and gone on with your own business.»
He turned to her, and in his eyes was that same kind smile she remembered from childhood.
«Because you, Chloe,» he said simply. «That same girl who defended me from the older students in seventh grade. Remember when they tried to take my breakfast, and you came up and said you’d tell the principal?»
«They were so scared they never bothered me again.»
Chloe smiled, remembering.
«Yes, that happened. Anthony was skinny then, wearing those huge glasses. Everyone teased him for being a nerd.»
«And you cried in the locker room afterwards,» he continued. «Thought no one saw, but I came in for a textbook and heard. You were afraid they’d take revenge, but you still defended me.»
«That was a long time ago.»
«Loyalty to yourself doesn’t expire,» Anthony shrugged. «You were a good person then. Judging by what I see now, you’re still the same. And good people need to be protected, especially from those who want to hurt them.»
Chloe felt a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t cried when she learned what James had done. She hadn’t cried when she realized he wanted to steal her entire life.
But now, from these simple words about kindness and protection, the tears rolled down on their own. Anthony silently handed her a tissue, not trying to calm her or stop the tears. He just sat there, and his presence said more than any words could.
You’re not alone. I’m here. Everything will be fine.
Three days passed before Sarah Lampard arrived at the hospital. During those days, Chloe had physically strengthened. IV drips and treatment had done their work. Her body was clearing the poison, but mentally, she felt shattered.
At night, she couldn’t sleep, replaying each day of the past months in her mind, trying to understand when James had made that monstrous decision. Had there been even a single moment of hesitation? Or had he just been playing the role of a loving husband, already knowing he would soon get rid of her?
Anthony didn’t leave her side. He postponed his conference, booked a hotel room near the hospital, came every morning and stayed until evening. He brought books, fruit, told stories from his medical practice, and distracted her.
Chloe realized that without him, she would have gone insane from thoughts and fear.
Sarah arrived on Monday morning around ten. Chloe heard quick footsteps in the corridor. Then the door swung open, and her university friend appeared in the doorway—tall, with a short haircut, wearing a sharp suit.
Behind her walked a middle-aged man in uniform, carrying a briefcase.
«Chloe!» Sarah approached and hugged her tightly, truly. «My God, I’m so glad you’re alive.»
«Me too.» Chloe felt some of the tension of the past days lift. Sarah always had a way of instilling confidence just by being there.
«This is Major Newman,» Sarah nodded to the man. «He handles organized crime cases but got involved in your case because… well, we’ll explain soon.»
They sat down, Sarah and the Major on chairs, while Anthony stayed standing by the window. Newman took a tablet from his briefcase, turned it on, and flipped through some documents.
«Chloe,» he began in an official tone. «Your testimony has been submitted to the investigative team. We conducted operational activities, and what we discovered goes beyond a typical domestic crime.»
«What did you find?» Chloe straightened up in bed.
Sarah spoke: «Let’s start with the station. We pulled all the CCTV footage from that day. Here, look.»
She turned the tablet. On the screen was a black and white recording from a camera. Chloe recognized the station cafe, herself and James standing near the timetable. James was saying something to her, then went to the cafe.
The camera switched to the interior. James approached the counter and ordered two coffees. A girl began preparing the drinks. James looked around.
When she turned to the coffee machine, his hand darted into his pocket and pulled out a small packet. With a quick movement, he poured the contents into one of the cups and stirred with a straw. It all took three seconds, no more.
«Here,» Sarah paused the recording. «Clear picture. He knew exactly what he was doing. The movement was practiced. No panic. Everything planned.»
Chloe watched the screen. The quick, confident movement of her husband’s hand.
«How many times did he rehearse that?» Chloe asked. «Or was he just so confident that he wasn’t even nervous?»
«Next,» Sarah continued. «We checked his financial transactions over the past six months. The picture, to put it mildly, is grim.»
Newman flipped through the documents and showed tables filled with numbers.
«Your husband was involved in smuggling shipments of premium alcohol from Europe,» his voice was dry and businesslike. «The channel operated through shell companies. The scheme was well established.»
«But six months ago, customs seized one of the shipments at the border. The goods were confiscated. The front company went bankrupt. The losses amounted to about $400,000.»
«Four million?» Chloe couldn’t believe it. «Where did he get that kind of money?»
«Not his money,» Newman shook his head. «He worked with investors. More precisely, with people from an organized crime group that financed the smuggling. When the scheme collapsed, they demanded full repayment with interest and began putting pressure on him.»
«We found recordings of his phone conversations,» Sarah added. «He’d been under surveillance for the past month in another case related to this group. Threats, pressure, demands. He was given deadlines and told that if he didn’t return the money, not only he would suffer.»
Chloe remembered those strange late-night calls, how James would step out onto the balcony and stand there for a long time. That must have been when they were threatening him.
«But he didn’t have that kind of money,» she said. «Everything we have is mine. My business, my property.»
«Exactly,» Sarah nodded. «We studied your prenuptial agreement. In case of divorce, he would be left with nothing. But you have a will under which everything passes to him in the event of your death.»
«James realized that the only way out of the debt trap and to stay alive was to gain access to your money. And for that, you had to either die or disappear. He chose the latter.»
Anthony stepped into the conversation.
«Because murder leaves consequences, suspicion would immediately fall on him. Whereas a person’s disappearance without a trace can be written off as an accident or a voluntary departure.»
«Correct,» Newman agreed. «And this brings us to the most interesting part. We found the man who sold him the drug.»
He pulled a printed photograph from his briefcase and placed it on the table in front of Chloe. The picture showed a man in his forties, balding, wearing glasses.
«Marcus Carter, former pharmacist,» the major explained. «He lost his license three years ago for illegal trade in prescription drugs, but continued operating underground. He deals in rare medications, psychotropic substances, anything that can be obtained through the black market.»
«We picked him up the day before yesterday,» Sarah added. «At first, he denied everything. But when we showed him the messages with James and threatened him with prison time for aiding and abetting attempted murder, he cracked and gave a full confession.»
She took out several more pages and showed them to Chloe. They were printouts of messages from a messenger app. James, using the nickname «77», asked about drugs for erasing memory.
He asked about dosages, effects, and consequences. Carter replied in detail, explaining how and when to administer the drug, what effect it would have, and how long it would take for complete memory loss.
«He bought the drug for $12,000,» Sarah said. «They met, exchanged the goods for cash. We have footage from cameras in a park showing the meeting. In addition, Carter kept a sample of the same substance he sold. We compared it with your blood tests—a perfect match.»
Chloe listened, and with every word the picture became clearer and more terrifying. James hadn’t acted on impulse. He had planned this for weeks, maybe even months. He looked for a method, found a seller, bought the drug, and studied how to use it.
All that time, he lived next to her, smiled, kissed her goodnight, told her he loved her, and prepared to destroy her life.
«One more thing.» Newman scrolled through the documents on the tablet. «A long-distance train ticket in the name of Wendy Burton. We checked the purchase.»
«The ticket was bought for cash at a railway ticket office a week before your departure. The cameras captured the buyer. It was your husband.»
Another recording appeared on the screen. James at the ticket counter, handing over money, receiving the ticket. At the bottom of the screen, the date and time: exactly one week before the day Chloe was supposed to travel to her parents.
«He knew in advance when I was going to travel,» Chloe whispered. «I told him myself. I warned him two weeks ahead of time that I planned to visit my mom. And he used that.»
Sarah nodded.
«Everything was calculated. He bought the ticket in someone else’s name so you couldn’t be tracked. He chose the longest possible route, eight days of travel.»
«In that time, the drug would have completely erased your memory. You would have gotten off the train somewhere at one of the intermediate stations, not remembering who you were or where you came from, without documents, without money. Just another homeless person, one of thousands.»
«And meanwhile, he would have started looking for me,» Chloe continued, «filing reports, raising alarm, playing the grieving husband.»
«Exactly,» Newman put the tablet away. «Half a year from now, when the search would yield nothing, he could file a lawsuit to have you declared dead, gain access to your accounts and property, pay off debts, and start a new life.»