The Ghost of the Wife He Buried

2: 2

The cold drained out of my body, and when I opened my eyes again I was standing in the corridor outside the interrogation room.

Zoe Simmons was smiling as she held out an insulated lunch box to Jason.

"I knew it. The second you get busy you forget to eat. Don't forget this once the interrogation's over."

Jason took the box, and the way he looked at her was soft as still water.

"All right. Wait for me in the office. I'll drive you home when I'm done."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Housekeeper."

Zoe dragged out the last syllable, her voice sweet to the point of cloying.

I hovered a little way off, watching all of it in silence.

The third year after my death, and the man I loved had fallen for the person I hated most.

A dull, crowded ache spread through my chest.

After walking Zoe to the office, Jason moved quickly.

I followed at his back into the interrogation room.

Bryce Finch, the serial killer, sat in the interrogation chair, the handcuffs on his wrists rattling.

When he saw Jason come in, a strange smile crossed his face and he spoke first.

"You've got it wrong. I didn't kill fifty-one. I killed fifty-two."

"That extra one, that's the one I killed in the cold storage."

Seeing Jason frown, he flipped him off, taunting.

"Profiler James, you lost after all."

"So what if you can draw my profile? You'll never know who the fifty-second victim was."

Bryce's hoarse laugh landed on my eardrums like a hammer.

That familiar pain and cold crawled up my spine.

Without thinking I reached out to catch Jason's arm, wanting to hide behind him.

My hand closed on nothing.

Jason set down his sketchpad, his eyes full of contempt.

"Bryce, if I can draw you, I can draw the victim and bring her home."

"Is that so?"

Bryce's tone turned theatrical. He suddenly leaned in close to Jason and lowered his voice.

"Then let's begin, great Profiler James. I hope you don't fall apart once you've finished her portrait."

The hand holding the pencil went stiff.

Bryce described it in detail.

The agony of being stabbed.

The body frostbitten in the cold storage.

Even at the very end, when her throat was cut, he brought the relief on the woman's face to life as he spoke.

Everyone in the room listened and went pale.

Even Jason, hailed as a genius profiler, slowed down.

A colleague beside him, curious, leaned in for a look.

He cried out. "Isn't this Professor James's ex-wife, Lucia Simmons?"

The moment those three syllables, Lucia Simmons, left his mouth, Jason's hand clenched, the knuckles white.

The pencil dragged one long streak across the paper.

Bryce suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jason, can you still bring her home now? If I remember right, you're about to get married."

Jason slowly lifted the sheet of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in the trash.

"You think mentioning her will make me fall apart?"

"You're wrong."

"She has a vicious heart. She envied her own sister from the time they were small, and three years ago she leaked information to you, made the arrest fail, and indirectly killed dozens of women."

As he spoke, he lifted his head and looked straight at Bryce, his tone certain.

"Someone like that, how could she possibly be a victim?"

"Tell me, what's your plan? Have her get close to me again, so you can get your chance to run?"

I stood behind him and shook my head with everything I had.

I wanted to explain that I never leaked anything, that I had really died.

But no one heard.

I looked at the hatred on the faces of the people around me, the ones who used to call me his wife so warmly.

The pain in my chest was unbearable.

Bryce saw the hatred in Jason's eyes and froze for a moment, then laughed even louder.

"You hate her? Jason, you actually hate her."

Jason frowned in irritation.

He took out his phone and opened his recent call log.

"Bryce, you say Lucia Simmons is dead, but I got a call from her just now."

"Stop wasting your effort. You killed that many people. You won't get away."

Bryce stopped laughing and suddenly asked a question.

"Jason, is that flower shop your ex-wife opened still there?"

Jason paused as he was rising to his feet.

"Under the crabapple tree by the door of that flower shop, there's something you want."