My Missing Best Friend

We were in the middle of dinner when Mark suddenly set down his fork. He looked at me and asked, Who is Walter Briggs?

My chopsticks froze in mid-air.

My heart skipped a beat.

Walter Briggs.

It was a fake name, something Cecilia and I had invented one drunken night. We made a pact: if one of us ever got into trouble and couldn't be reached, "Walter Briggs" would be the code.

Besides me and her, no one else knew that name.

And Cecilia had been missing for a month.

She said she was going on a trip to Thailand.

And she never came back.

I looked at Marks casual, untroubled face, and my heart sank.

How could he possibly know that name?

The name Walter Briggs was born the year Cecilia and I graduated from college. Wed finished a whole bottle of red wine and were lying on the rooftop, staring at the full moon.

Cecilia had her arm slung around my neck, her words slurring. Sophie, we need a code.

A code for what?

You know if one of us ever gets into trouble, disappears, and the other one hears the name, theyll know something is wrong.

I laughed, calling her dramatic. But we spent the next hour brainstorming until we landed on Walter Briggs. It sounded so old-fashioned and clunky that it couldn't possibly be a real persons name.

Only two people in the world knew what those words meant.

Me. And Cecilia.

And Cecilia had been gone for thirty-one days.

She said she was spending a few days in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Shed even video-called me from the airport, panning her phone across the duty-free shop. Sophie! See anything you want? My treat!

That was the last time I saw her face.

After that, my texts went unanswered. My calls wouldnt go through. Her last social media post was a photo from a night market in Chiang Mai.

I called the police. Her family called the police. The authorities in Thailand were investigating.

But there was no trace of her. No body, no witness, nothing. It was as if Cecilia had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

And now, my husband, Marka man who, in theory, had no connection to Cecilia, a man who never even liked her postshad just casually uttered that name over dinner.

Whats wrong? Mark asked, noticing my stunned silence. He smiled. You look strange.

No, its nothing. I lowered my head and put a bite of food in my mouth. It was tasteless. Ive just never heard that name before. Where did you hear it?

Oh, a friend mentioned it, he said, taking a sip of water. Just curious.

He changed the subject, starting to talk about his day at work. I couldnt hear a single word. My mind was stuck on one thought.

How did he know that name?

How?

After dinner, Mark went to take a shower. I sat on the sofa, my palms slick with sweat. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. I glanced at the closed door, then stood and walked to his phone, which hed left on the dining table.

I knew the password. Our wedding anniversary.

My fingers trembled as I unlocked it. I scrolled through his messages, his call logs, his notes.

Nothing.

It was too clean. Suspiciously clean. No ones phone is that pristine.

Next, I went for his laptop. It was in the study, and I knew that password too. Hed never tried to hide it from me. I checked his browser history, his files, his downloads, one by one.

Then I opened the cached records of a booking app.

And my hand froze.

A month ago, Mark had told me he was going to Shanghai for a three-day business trip. Id even helped him pack his suitcase.

But the booking records told a different story.

He hadnt bought a ticket to Shanghai.

Hed bought a ticket to Chiang Mai, Thailand.

His departure date was one day before Cecilias.

His return date was two days after she disappeared.

The water in the bathroom shut off.

I quickly closed the laptop, walked back to the living room, and sat on the sofa, pretending to scroll through videos on my phone.

Mark came out, toweling his hair. He glanced at me. Still up?

Yeah, just for a bit longer, I said with a smile.

He went into the bedroom and turned off the light.

I stared at the dark doorway, my fingers digging into the arm of the sofa.

Mark. What did you do in Thailand?

The next morning, I told Mark that an urgent project had come up at work and I needed to go out of town for a few days.

He was tying his tie, his back to me. Where to?

San Francisco.

When will you be back?

Not sure. Maybe three or four days.

He turned and gave me a smile. Be safe.

I smiled back.

I took a flight that afternoon.

Not to San Francisco.

To Chiang Mai, Thailand.

I landed at four in the afternoon, local time. A wall of hot, humid air hit me as I stepped out of the airport, and for a moment, I felt a dizzying sense of disorientation. This was the city where Cecilia had taken her last photo.

The night market, the lights, the crowds. She had been standing in front of a mango sticky rice stall, grinning like a little kid.

I didnt have time for grief.

I went straight to the hotel where she had stayed. I knew the name; shed sent me a screenshot of her booking at a place called the Lotus Courtyard, a boutique hotel near the old city.

At the front desk, I showed the receptionist a photo of Cecilia. Did you see this girl? She stayed here about a month ago.

The receptionist glanced at the photo and shook her head.

Her name is Cecilia Chen. Shes Chinese-American, I added.

The woman typed something into her computer, then nodded. Yes, we have a record of her. She stayed for three nights. She never checked out or extended her stay. Her luggage is still in our storage room.

My heart seized. Her luggage is still here.

But she was gone.

I steadied myself and asked the question I dreaded most.

A month ago, was there a man from the U.S. staying here as well?

I handed her a photo of Mark.

She looked at it, then checked the computer again. Her expression grew hesitant. Yes. He stayed for five nights.

Five nights. Longer than Cecilias three.

Which room was he in?

Room 312.

And Cecilia?

315.

The same floor. Two doors down.

I stood at the front desk, a roaring in my ears. The first thought was the obvious one: they were having an affair. Cecilia and Mark, in adjacent rooms in Thailand.

But another voice in my head immediately shut that down. Impossible.

Cecilia hated Mark. It wasnt a polite, behind-the-back dislike. It was a direct, in-your-face animosity. Whenever I brought Mark to a party, Cecilia would ignore him. One night, after a few drinks, shed pointed at him and said, Sophie has great taste in everything, except men.

Marks face had turned green. They hadnt made eye contact since.

How could two people like that be having a secret affair in Thailand?

Then why was he staying next door to her? What was he doing?

I took a deep breath. I need to see the security footage from that week.

The receptionist looked uncomfortable. I Ill have to ask my manager.

Please do.

And we might need the police to authorize it.

My best friend is missing, I cut her off, my voice calm but my hands shaking. Its been a month. No one has seen or heard from her. Your hotel may be one of the last places she was seen alive. Do you really think your manager wont cooperate?

She stared at me, then picked up the phone.

Twenty minutes later, the hotels head of security led me to a small surveillance room. Three walls were covered in monitors. He pulled up the recordings from a month ago, starting from the day Cecilia checked in.

I sat down, my palms cold with sweat.

Day one.

Cecilia dragged her suitcase into the lobby and checked in at the front desk. She was wearing a white sundress, her hair in a ponytail, chatting happily with the receptionist. My eyes instantly burned with tears.

Then, in the bottom right corner of the screen, a man walked in through the main entrance.

A dark blue t-shirt, a baseball cap, a face mask.

The way he walked, his posture it was Mark.

He didn't go to the front desk. He sat down in the lobbys lounge area, picking up a magazine and holding it in front of his face. But his eyes followed Cecilia. From the moment she checked in, to the moment she took her key card and stepped into the elevator.

He watched her the entire time.

A chill ran down my spine.

Fast-forward, I said.

The security chief sped up the playback.

That afternoon, Cecilia left the hotel to go sightseeing. The camera angle switched to the entrance. Two minutes after she walked out, Mark followed. Same cap, same mask. He stayed about twenty yards behind her.

That evening, Cecilia ate dinner at the hotel restaurant on the ground floor. Mark sat in a corner, nursing a cup of coffee. His seat gave him a perfect view of her table. Cecilia never noticed him.

Day two.

Cecilia visited a temple. Mark followed.

Cecilia went to a night market. Mark followed.

Cecilia bought a coconut from a street vendor and crouched down to pet a stray cat. Mark stood across the street, in front of a convenience store, pretending to look at his phone.

Every frame, every shot. He was there.

My hands started to tremble. This wasn't an affair. People having an affair dont act like this. They dont wear masks and keep their distance. They walk side-by-side, they eat together, they touch.

He never spoke a word to her. From start to finish, Cecilia had no idea he was there.

This wasnt a tryst. This was stalking.

What about the third day? I asked, my voice hoarse.

The security chief pulled up the footage.

On the morning of the third day, Cecilia left the hotel. She had a backpack on and was holding a map, looking cheerful. The camera showed her walking out the front door and heading east down the street.

Two minutes later, Mark emerged from a side exit and headed in the same direction.

And then, the footage ended. The hotels cameras only covered a fifty-yard radius. I couldnt see what happened beyond that.

Are there any other cameras? I asked.

The security chief shook his head. Thats all we have. For the street cameras, youd have to contact the local police.

I sat in silence for a long time. Then I stood up, thanked him, and walked out of the room.

Standing in front of the hotel, I opened the map on my phone. Cecilia had been heading east. That road passed a few streets, a market, a gas station.

And it ended at the coast. At a cliff.

I stared at the pin on the map, my fingers numb. She went there. He followed her.

And then she disappeared.