Chapter 2 - The Flight to Cairo
I did not confront David about the ticket or the postcard.
If he knew I had discovered his secret, I might never see Tara again.
Instead, I packed a small duffel bag and took my emergency cash hidden in the floorboards.
I drove straight to the airport and bought a ticket on the exact same flight to Egypt.
I boarded the plane last, wearing a dark hat and oversized sunglasses to hide my face.
I sat in the economy section, far away from David's first-class seat.
The thirteen-hour flight felt like an agonizing eternity.
My mind raced with terrifying questions about what my husband had actually been doing in Cairo twenty years ago.
He was supposed to be a struggling reporter back then.
How could trading our eight-year-old daughter benefit his career?
When we finally landed at Cairo International Airport, the dry desert heat hit me like a physical blow.
I stayed far back in the crowd, watching David navigate the terminal with practiced ease.
He did not look like a man visiting the site of his greatest tragedy.
He looked like a man arriving for a business meeting.
I followed him into a crowded taxi rank and hired a driver to shadow his black sedan.
We drove through the chaotic, dusty streets of the city I once called home.
The memories of Tara playing in our old courtyard threatened to break my resolve.
David’s car finally pulled to a stop outside a heavily guarded, opulent mansion near the Nile River.
I paid my driver and ducked behind a vendor's cart to watch my husband.
The heavy iron gates swung open, and a man stepped out to greet David.
My blood ran cold.
It was Chief Inspector Omar, the exact same police officer who had led the investigation into Tara’s disappearance.
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They embraced like old friends, laughing together.
Then, the Inspector handed David a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills.
