Same dark hair.
Same charcoal coat.
But I wasn’t wearing that coat today.
Mine had a small rip near the right cuff.
The coat in the photo didn’t.
“That isn’t me.”
Eleanor stared.
“Then who is it?”
Daniel zoomed into the image.
The face was partially turned away.
Similar build.
Similar hair.
Similar clothing.
A deliberate resemblance.
Claire whispered, “Marcus said this was proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel began arranging the other photographs.
Then the pattern became clear.
The pictures weren’t simply documenting Eleanor.
They were documenting places.
Routes.
Intersections.
Entrances.
Security blind spots.
It looked less like surveillance of a person and more like rehearsal.
A plan.
But for what?
Daniel called his security team and instructed them to contact authorities.
Within an hour, investigators arrived.
I gave a statement.
Claire gave a statement.
Eleanor refused to leave until she understood everything.
