My husband, Ethan Caldwell, had been “away on a business trip” for two months.

That was what everyone believed.

His company believed he was working remotely from Seattle. His mother believed he was too busy to call. Our neighbors believed I was the lonely wife dragging trash cans to the curb by myself.

And I believed it too.

At least, I tried to.

Every night, I tucked our six-year-old daughter, Lily, into bed and told her Daddy would be home soon. Every morning, I checked my phone for Ethan’s messages. They were always short.

Busy day. Love you both.

Meetings all week.

Signal is terrible here.

The strange thing was, he never video-called anymore.

That evening, rain tapped against the windows of our house in Portland, Oregon. Lily wore her pink dinosaur pajamas and held her stuffed rabbit against her chest.

“Mommy,” she whispered as I pulled the blanket to her chin.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Her eyes moved toward the closet.

“Daddy has been hiding in the closet for fifty days.”

My hand froze on the blanket.

“What did you say?”

She lowered her voice even more. “Is he playing hide-and-seek with us?”

The room became so quiet I could hear the heating vent click.

I turned slowly toward the white closet doors. They were shut. Nothing looked unusual. A laundry basket sat beside them. A nightlight glowed softly near Lily’s bookshelf.

I forced a smile. “Lily, honey, Daddy is in Seattle.”

She shook her head. “No. He comes out when you sleep.”

A cold line moved down my back.

“What do you mean he comes out?”

“He watches me. Sometimes he cries.” Her little face tightened with confusion. “He told me not to tell you because you’d get scared.”

My knees nearly gave out.

I stood up and reached for my phone. No signal problem this time. My hand trembled as I typed Ethan’s number.

From inside the closet, a phone began to vibrate.

Bzzzz.

Lily pulled the blanket over her mouth.

I stared at the closet doors, unable to breathe.

Then something shifted inside.