The Ghost of the Wife He Buried

1: 1

On the night of our wedding anniversary, the serial killer my husband was hunting walked into the flower shop where I worked.

After he stabbed me, I pressed a hand to the wound and hid in the cold storage, and I called my husband.

The line connected. What I heard first was a whistle I knew.

Then Jason James's voice came through, thick with disgust.

"Lucia Simmons. You hid with the killer for three years. Now that he's caught, your conscience finally kicked in and you're ready to turn yourself in?"

Hid for three years? Turn myself in?

This morning, when he dropped me off at the shop, he'd smiled and said he'd take me to a movie tonight.

I froze where I stood, cold all over.

The footsteps outside the cold storage were getting closer.

I couldn't spare a breath to ask. I only wanted to beg for help.

But the next second, a woman's voice cut in.

"Jace, is that my sister calling? Is she going to plead for the killer again..."

Faintly, from the other end, I could hear the killer laughing in the interrogation room.

Jason's voice went cold, and he let out a low laugh.

"Plead for him? A killer's accomplice thinks she has the right?"

"Lucia Simmons, if you have any conscience left, go and answer to the people you got killed."

I blinked the frost off my lashes, and all at once I had no strength left to speak.

Jason didn't know.

The killer whistling in his interrogation room was out here the whole time, right outside the cold storage.

1

Someone was prying at the lock outside the door.

My grip tightened on the phone on instinct, and I lowered my voice to beg.

"Jace, I'm in the flower shop's cold storage. That psycho killer is right outside..."

Jason gave a cold laugh and cut me off, impatient.

"Zoe, you don't even bother scripting your lies anymore?"

"The flower shop was destroyed three years ago, when you leaked the operation and helped the killer escape. As for this killer you're talking about..."

He fell silent for two seconds, moving closer to the interrogation room.

Through the phone came that voice again, the one that turned my blood cold.

"The victim I remember best? That would be the one I killed in the cold storage three years ago."

"By the time she died, her blood had frozen solid. It cost me quite a bit of effort to take her apart and hide the pieces."

So it was true. I really did die in this cold storage.

The lock on the door was giving way.

My whole body shook and I couldn't stop it, my voice gone dry.

"I'm not lying to you, Jason. This morning you dropped me off at the shop, you said you'd spend our third anniversary with me..."

Jason's voice was ice.

"Zoe, three years ago, when you leaked the squad's deployment to the killer and left with him, how come you didn't remember it was our third wedding anniversary?"

The call cut off hard.

Jason and I had been together seven years.

This was the first time he ever hung up on me.

The temperature kept dropping.

Tears struck the backs of my hands, hands frozen a bruised blue, and froze to frost the instant they landed.

Whoever was outside the door was losing patience.

The scraping at the lock grew louder.

I swallowed the sob in my throat.

The blood on my hand had glued the phone to my palm.

I worked my stiff fingers and dialed my brother.

The busy tone lasted barely ten seconds, but it felt like a whole century.

The call connected, and my brother's voice came through, bright and happy.

"Hello? Who is this, please?"

Before I could speak, I heard him telling someone beside him,

"Careful with that."

"This is Jace and Zoe's wedding suite. Nothing can go wrong."

Only after that did he seem to remember he still had a call open, and he asked again, apologetic.

Listening to my brother's familiar voice, I felt lost for a moment.

Wedding?

Jason and my stepsister, Zoe Simmons?

How was that possible?

Jason knew exactly how much I hated Zoe Simmons.

The day after my mother killed herself over my father's affair, my father brought my stepmother and Zoe Simmons into our home.

From that day on, I lost my mother, and I lost my father too.

My heart clenched, and I opened my mouth, but my vocal cords felt frozen, my voice dry.

"Rob... Robert Simmons, save me."

The other end went quiet for a few seconds, and when he spoke again his voice had cooled.

"Lucia Simmons?"

"What do you want now? I told you three years ago, when you went into hiding, from now on I have only one sister, and that's Zoe."

I curled up and held myself tight, my voice trembling.

"Robert, I'm dying. Save me."

My brother suddenly laughed.

"Zoe, do you think if you kill yourself like Mom did, I'll forgive you?"

"You'd better die out there. Never come back."

The temperature had dropped so low the phone went black for good.

Jason's words and my brother's words drove into my chest like countless fine needles.

My body began to burn. I bit down hard on my wrist, congealed blood smearing my lips.

The cold storage door was shoved open, hard.

My vision went dark, but my hearing turned unbearably sharp.

I heard the whistle start up above my head.

The next second, a hand yanked my hair back.

A coldness swept across my throat, and the fever inside me poured out along that cold.

Just before consciousness left me for good, I almost wanted to laugh.

Jason, I really did die three years ago, in the time you kept throwing at me.