The Imposter

Chapter 1

7 Long Years Later

Tom was woken up by his phone; he forced his eyes open; it was still dark. He checked the time on the screen; it was 3.32am. His heart sank; good news doesn’t come at three in the morning. He switched on a lamp on the table by his head and picked up the phone, noticing that it was a foreign area code. Tom was instantly filled with a hopeful trepidation; he answered, hurriedly, before they rang off.

“Mr Moore? Mr Moore, can you hear me?” Tom picked up a definite accent, his hope grew.

“Yes,” he almost shouted, “Yes, I hear you.”

“Mr Moore, I’m calling from the Istanbul Police; we have found your wife.” Tom’s heart was in his throat, part of him expected him to explain that they had found Katie’s body; he had been expecting this call for years. A small part of him, though, was still hopeful. He couldn’t quell that feeling of hope, try as he might.

“I-is she….?” He couldn’t even bring himself to ask, let this feeling of hope live within him a little longer.

“She’s alive, Mr Moore.” Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, scared that he had misheard; knowing that sometimes when you want something to be true, you can imagine it to be. “I’m sorry, did you say she’s alive?”

“Yes, Mr Moore, she is alive.” He could hear the smile in the officer’s voice now.

“I can’t believe it, is she hurt? Is she OK?” His heart was pounding, the information still somewhat unwilling to sink in.

“She appears to be unharmed, Mr Moore, we can’t see a scratch on her. We’re at the hospital now; she’s being given a thorough examination as we speak. She’s told us multiple times that she hasn’t been hurt as well, but we must be safe. She says she’s desperate to get home to you.”

“I’m desperate to see her. Can I talk to her?” He was crying now, relief and happiness washing over him for the first time in seven years.

“Not just now, Mr Moore, she’s with the doctor just now. But my colleague is booking a flight home for her as we speak. I’ll email the itinerary to you as soon as I have it.”

Thomas was confused then; he had been planning to book a flight to her as soon as he was off the phone. “Hold on, how long will she be there? I want to see her as soon as possible. She can’t be ready to fly alone after all this.”

“I understand, Mr Moore,” the officer told him soothingly, “she won’t be alone though; she will be escorted throughout the process by us. She won’t be alone, I assure you.”

“Why can’t I fly there? I want to be with her as soon as possible; it’s been seven years!”

“Precisely, so what is another thirty-six hours? We fly tomorrow. I’ll send the itinerary. Goodbye, Mr Moore.” The call was disconnected and Tom stared at it in mute confusion. Something didn’t feel right. Was this normal procedure? He wondered, but he had no one to ask. This was a unique situation.

His phone pinged a minute later, an email with the flight details. She was scheduled to arrive at 3.30pm local time. Everything seemed to be happening very fast, maybe too fast. He instantly felt guilty; he wanted to feel the way he had felt when he first knew his Katie was safe and well.

He had a lot to do; he’d been merely existing, and the house reflected that; downstairs, it was a pigsty. He quickly washed the bedding he had been using on his makeshift bed and plumped up the sofa cushions. He spent hours cleaning and tidying, too wired to sleep. He wanted Katie to see the house as it had been before they left for that fateful holiday; he wanted her to see that nothing had changed.

He was picked up at 2pm by a black car with tinted windows and commanded to sit in the back. He got to the airport early but didn’t leave the ‘Arrivals’ door. He noticed the press beginning to arrive and couldn’t help, nor hide his anger and contempt for them. He stormed across the vast ‘arrivals’ hall, his footfalls echoing.

“f**k off!” He shouted, not at any member of the press, but at the collective group. Some of them had the gall to try to take his photo. He stepped back, concealing his face, continuing his verbal attack; “I told you to go; haven’t you done enough? You stinking f*****g vultures! Wasn’t accusing me of murdering my wife enough for you?!” The driver as well as some security men rushed toward the commotion and Tom was pulled away from the group. They were also moved outside.

Katie was the last one through the door; Tom knew her instantly, but something was different. She was still beautiful, with long, dark, shiny hair. Her eyes were different though; still the same piercing shade of blue, but they looked empty, emotionless. There was no sign of her good humour and the expression on her face was one he didn’t think he’d ever seen on her face before; it looked like pure hatred. As though everything around her pissed her off. When she met Tom’s eyes though, she softened visibly and smiled at him.

She had always had a lovely smile, she still did, but it unnerved him that now, it didn’t reach her eyes. They still looked cold, emotionless. ‘What had been done to her over there?’ he wondered, for her eyes looked so desperately unhappy. He kicked himself; she was finally home, he had to stop analysing every expression and every little thing; he had no idea what she had lived through during those seven years. He told himself that he had to get out of his head and be happy and grateful that she was home.

He rushed forward and took her in his arms. She felt different, she smelled different, but what dismayed him most was that she kept her arms firmly by her sides. Tom let her go, trying to quell the hurt he felt. He looked into her now cold, blue eyes, searching for their old warmth. “I love you, Katie. Welcome home.”

She half smiled, “Thanks, it’s good to be back.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but she sounded slightly different; there was a faint accent and her voice, while still feminine and melodious had grown ever so slightly deeper and, like her eyes, it had a harder edge.

One of the escorting officers stepped forward then, placing a blue, felt blanket over Katie’s head, “Just until we get you to the car, Mrs Moore; for your own privacy.” Katie said nothing as they rushed her outside towards the waiting car; reporters raced forward, trying to get a photo and waving microphones in her face.

Once they were safely in the car, Tom helped her remove the blanket, and, for a second, she was his Katie again; she smiled her normal, radiant smile and thanked him, before resting her head on his shoulder. He sighed contentedly, stroking her glossy hair.

“Is the house the same?” She asked him, her eyes closed, her long eyelashes on full display.

“Of course, it is, Katie. My whole life is the same, apart from you not being in it,” he told her, his voice thick with tears. She didn’t answer, only nodded, satisfied.

When they arrived, Katie was helped out of the car, again with the blanket over her head. The officers escorted them both inside. Tom walked ahead, leading the officers and Katie into the lounge. It was still painted her favourite colour: duck egg blue; the furniture was soft and cream and white painted bookshelves adorned with books by Stephen King, Camilla Bruce, Mark Edwards, John Steinbeck, and Charles Dickens. The ceiling was high and ornate with a beautiful, modern chandelier above the sofa.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” Tom said, walking across the room to the open-plan kitchen. He could feel Katie’s eyes on him all the time, following his every move. He felt like prey being stalked and then again felt angry with himself; this was what he had dreamed about for seven years, now Katie was finally home. Of course, it would be weird, for both of them. He had no idea yet where she had been for all this time, or what she had endured. He wondered if maybe he’d been looking at their relationship with rose-tinted glasses; perhaps she hadn’t actually changed much at all, and he had softened her features in his mind. Is it possible to gaslight yourself? He wondered, is that what I’m doing now?

He brought the drinks in on a tray and then went to sit beside his wife on the loveseat. She instantly jumped up as if bitten by something and then, realising her reaction, sat back down but as far from Tom as she could get and right on the edge of her seat.

Officer Rabey spoke first, “I’m sure you’re glad to be home and we won’t outstay our welcome here. Katie, you’ve been away a long time; don’t force things, take your time getting used to being home and being with Tom. You’ll need a lot of support, so we’ll leave some contact details with you.”

Katie thanked him politely, before standing up and announcing; “I’m actually pretty tired; I’m going for a lie-down.” She left the room without a backward glance and then they heard her feet clomping up the stairs.

Tom sat back and sighed, running his hands through his dark hair. “Do you know what happened to her over there?” He asked them, both tension and disappointment apparent in his tone.

Officer Tobin answered, “It’s up to Katie to tell you that, if and when she’s ready. You’ll be pleased to know though that there is no sign of physical or s****l violence; in fact, her hymen remains intact; no sign that she was…”

Officer Rabey stopped him there, nudging his arm before he further breached confidentiality.

Utterly bewildered, Tom asked, “I’m sorry, her hymen?”

Tobin blushed slightly, looking to Officer Rabey for approval before answering; he went on when Rabey nodded his head, “Yes sir, the…um…the barrier in the v****a…”

Tom interrupted; “I know what a hymen is, dammit.What do you mean hers is intact?!”

The blush grew even deeper now; “Well, it was our understanding, from Mrs Moore, that the marriage had never been consummated.”

Tom leaned forward in his seat, head in hands and whispered, more to himself, “Yes, it was.”