My husband went on a business trip to another city for a month, and I decided to move his favorite potted cactus to another location, but I accidentally broke it while carrying it. My hair stood on end when I saw what I saw inside…(6/9)

Clearly, something had happened, something bad. But what exactly, and how did it relate to John and his secrets? Scanning the living room, I noticed something shiny under the overturned armchair. I bent down and picked it up.

It was a cell phone. The screen was cracked, but the device was still working. I pressed the button and saw the screensaver.

A photo of Sarah with David. It was her phone, the same one she’d sent me her morning text from. So I was here when he texted me.

And, apparently, shortly after, something happened. Something that made her drop the phone and run. Or…

Or forced her to flee. The thought sent shivers down my spine. What if Sarah and David hadn’t just gone into hiding? What if they’d been kidnapped? What if all that talk about danger wasn’t just empty words, but a real warning? But who could have kidnapped them? And why? Does this have to do with John, with his secret affairs? Or with our meeting yesterday? Maybe someone was watching us, discovered what we were talking about, and decided to act? I didn’t know what to do. Call the police? But what would I say? That my husband’s wife, with whom he is in a bigamy relationship, disappeared with their son after our meeting, where we discussed his double life.

It seemed like the ravings of a madman. I decided to examine the house again, hoping to find some clue, some trace that would indicate what had happened to Sarah and David. The office, which, judging by the furniture, belonged to John, was in the same disarray as the other rooms.

The desk drawers were open, papers scattered, books knocked off the shelves. I began sorting through the scattered documents, hoping to find something useful. Most of the papers turned out to be common household bills, receipts, and old letters.

Nothing to explain what had happened. But in one of the books on the floor, I found a piece of paper tucked away. It was a handwritten text, written in a handwriting I instantly recognized.

John’s handwriting. “Sarah, if you’re reading this, my fears have come true. They’ve found out about you and David.”

Don’t try to contact me, don’t stay home, it’s dangerous. Go to Cleveland, to my Aunt Mary’s house. You know the address.

You’ll be safe there, at least for a while. And don’t tell anyone about Laura. No one, do you hear me? It’s a matter of life or death.

I reread the note several times, trying to grasp its meaning. John warned Sarah of the danger. He said some people had discovered something about her and David.

They advised him to go to Cleveland, to the house of an Aunt Mary. And they asked him not to tell anyone about Laura. Laura? Who is Laura? Another woman in John’s life.

Another secret. And who are these people John wrote about? Who posed a threat to Sarah and David? And is this related to his double life, his secret affairs? The questions multiplied, and answers remained elusive. But one thing became clear.

Most likely, Sarah found this note and, following John’s instructions, went to Cleveland. That’s probably why she didn’t answer my calls or texts. She was on the run, trying to hide from some unknown threat.

But what should I do? Go to Cleveland to find Aunt Mary? Or go home, lock myself in the apartment, and wait for John to return, demanding explanations? Or maybe go to the police, tell them everything I know, and let them figure it out? I didn’t have time to decide. Outside, I heard the sound of a car approaching. I looked out the window and saw a black SUV pulling into the driveway.

Two men in dark suits emerged, very similar to the special services agents in the movies. My heart sank. Who are these people? What do they need? Do they have something to do with Sarah and David’s disappearance? And most importantly,

Do they pose a threat to me? I decided not to wait to meet the strangers. I quickly hid John’s note in my pocket, slipped out the back door, and ran into the woods. If these people were truly dangerous, it was best to stay away from them.

I ran through the trees, trying to move silently and leave no trace. Voices were heard behind me. The men discovered the house was empty and were apparently now inspecting the grounds.

I needed to get as far away as possible, as quickly as possible. I don’t know how long I ran through the woods. Maybe an hour, maybe more. Finally, exhausted, I stopped at a small stream.

I listened. It seemed there was no pursuit. Either the men didn’t notice me fleeing, or they decided there was no point in chasing an unknown guest.

I sat down on a fallen tree and tried to gather my thoughts. What’s going on? Who are these people? Why did John warn Sarah of the danger? And most importantly, what should I do now? First, I needed to get out of the woods and back to civilization. Then, I’d decide where to go.

To Cleveland, to find Sarah. Home? To the police? I pulled out my phone to check for a signal and froze. The screen showed a missed call notification.

From John. He called just 10 minutes ago, when I was in the woods, where the signal apparently went dead. With trembling fingers, I pressed the call-back button. Beeps.

One, two, three. I thought he wouldn’t answer when his voice sounded on the other end. So familiar and yet so strange.

“Emily? Where are you?” There was tension and anxiety in his voice. I didn’t know how to respond. Tell the truth? Lie? Pretend I don’t know about her double life? In the woods, I finally replied.

Not far from your wife Sarah’s country house. The same one you forgot to mention during six years of marriage. There was silence on the other end of the line.

Then John said quietly, “You know. It’s not a question, but a statement.”

He understood that his secret had been revealed. Yes, John, I know, I confirmed it. I know you’ve been married to another woman for 16 years. I know you have a teenage son.

I know our whole life was a lie. Not all of it, he objected. Not all of it, Emily…

I truly love you. That was never a lie. I smiled bitterly.

Love? And that’s why you lied to me all these years? Did you lead a double life? Did you cheat on me with a woman who considered herself your only wife? If this is love, then I don’t want to know what hate is to you.

John sighed. It’s more complicated than you think, Emily. Much more complicated.

But now’s not the time for explanations. They’re in danger. They’re both in danger.

Sarah and David have already gone into hiding, you have to leave too. Immediately! His words sent shivers down my spine.

In danger? From whom? From the people looking for me, he replied. I can’t explain now. Just listen to me, for God’s sake.

Leave Springfield. Go home, gather the essentials, and go to Cleveland. 101 Pushkin Street.

Ask for Mary. Say it’s from me. She’ll help you.

But… I started, but John interrupted me. No buts, Emily.

It’s a matter of life or death. Your life or your death. Do as I say.

And… Be careful. They could be following you. And he hung up, leaving me completely confused.

What’s going on? Who are these people looking for him? Why does he think I’m in danger? And why should I believe him after everything I’ve learned? But on the other hand, his anxiety seemed genuine. And those two men in Sarah’s cabin did seem suspicious. What if John was telling the truth and I really was in danger?

I decided not to take any chances. Leaving the woods, I found a path that led to the nearest town. There I got a ride to Springfield, and from there I took the first train home.

The whole way, I couldn’t stop thinking about the situation I was in. Who was John really? Why were they chasing him? And how serious a threat was he to me, Sarah, and David? Upon returning home, the first thing I did was check the apartment. Everything was as I had left it.

The mess in the bedroom after the broken flowerpot, the computer on the living room table, the unwashed mug in the kitchen. No sign of a break-in, no indication that anyone had been there in my absence. I went to the shelf where the box I had found with the flowerpot was.

I took it in my hands and examined it carefully. An ordinary metal box, a little rusty, with a small lock. Nothing special.

But Sarah suggested the box might have a false bottom. What if he’s right? What if there really are documents hidden there, the ones John talked about in his video messages? I turned the box over and began tapping on the bottom, looking for irregularities, hidden mechanisms. And, sure enough, at one point the sound became muffled, as if there was something beneath the metal plate.

I carefully examined the bottom of the box and noticed a small, almost invisible button on the very edge. I pressed it, and part of the bottom slid aside, revealing a small secret compartment. Inside was a sheet of paper folded in four.

I unfolded it and saw handwritten text. The handwriting was unfamiliar to me; it wasn’t John’s. Coordinates:

54, 36, 39, 12. Key in the cavity of the upper right third molar.
Encrypted documents. Password. Date of birth (DBO) in alphabetical order.

Account access code. The first five digits after the decimal point of Pi, plus the year of discovery. I reread the text several times, trying to understand its meaning.

Coordinates of a location. Key in a tooth. Encrypted documents.

This all sounded like a spy novel, not the real life of an ordinary supply manager. But John, as I now understood, was no ordinary manager. He led a double life, had several passports with different surnames, and warned of some danger.

Who was he really? A spy? A criminal? Someone hiding from justice or from some shadowy figure? I decided to check the coordinates. I opened the map on the computer and entered the numbers: 54.36 North latitude, 39.12 East longitude.

The map showed a location in the Pennsylvania woods, far from populated areas. A forest or a field. What could be hidden there? And what does this have to do with John and his secrets? The rest of the note was even more mysterious.

Key in the cavity of the upper right third molar. What does that mean? Whose molar is that? John’s? Who wrote the note? And what encrypted documents? Where are they? On the same USB drive I found in the flowerpot? And how to decipher the key? Date of birth: M plus V, in letter order. M. Probably John.

But who is V? And the last part. The account access code. The first five digits after the decimal point of Pi, plus the year we met.

I remembered Pi from school. 3.14159. So, the first five digits after the decimal point.

1, 4, 1, 5, 9. And the year we met? If that’s the year I met John, then it’s 2016. So, the code.

1, 4, 1, 5, 9, 2, 0, 1, 6. But which account was it? John and I had a joint bank account, but I knew the password, and it was completely different. Perhaps there was another account I didn’t know about? The questions multiplied, and the answers still remained elusive.

But there was no time to reflect. John said I was in danger, and while I wasn’t sure I could trust him after everything I’d discovered, his anxiety seemed genuine. Besides, those two men in the cabin seemed very suspicious. I decided to follow John’s advice and go to Cleveland to see the mysterious Aunt Mary.