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.

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.

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."

3: 3

Once the exact address came through, the whole department kicked into motion.

Jason didn't go.

I drifted behind him, watching him drive Zoe home.

Every trace of me was already gone from the car.

The good-luck charm I'd given him had been swapped for a pink plush toy Zoe liked.

A sticker on the passenger seat read Zoe's spot.

I sat in the back, and the cold crept through me inch by inch.

In that moment, it finally sank in.

The Jason who used to see only me, want only me, had truly fallen in love with someone else.

The car turned onto the familiar road.

Police lights flashed not far ahead.

Jason's fingers tightened on the wheel without his noticing, and he suddenly spoke.

"Zoe, that day, did you really see your sister leaving the flower shop with Bryce Finch?"

Zoe looked at him, her eyes going red.

"What are you trying to say?"

"You think I'd lie to you about something like this? If you don't believe me, then go ahead and lock me up too!"

Jason panicked and apologized at once, low and quick.

Only after he'd coaxed her tears into a smile did he let out a breath.

I sat quietly in the back seat.

Watching him hand over every bit of the doting that had once been mine to someone else.

I blinked. No tears came.

The dead don't cry.

I couldn't leave Jason, so I was dragged along behind him, into the house.

Tomorrow was the day Jason and Zoe would marry.

The rooms were covered in red wedding characters.

The bright red stung my eyes.

Just one day ago, he'd said marrying me was the happiest thing in his life.

Jason sat on the couch, staring blankly at the pencil smudges left on his hand from the profiling.

Then his phone screen lit up.

I drifted over and saw him open the chat with the captain.

The captain had sent photos of skeletal remains.

Beside the bones lay a plain ring.

Only part of it has been dug up. We can't identify the victim yet.

Once your wedding leave is over, we may need you to draw the victim's portrait.

There's s.z.q engraved inside the band.

That was our wedding ring.

He'd engraved those letters himself.

When he slid the ring onto my finger, his whole body had been shaking.

The chat kept showing "typing."

A minute later, the message finally came.

Jace... is Lucia Simmons really all right?

Jason's body snapped taut.

He opened those photos again and zoomed in.

Standing beside him, I felt a faint hope rise in my chest.

Jason was hailed as a profiling genius the field saw maybe once in a century.

He'd once pinned down a suspect from nothing but a passerby's vague, fumbling description.

And he and I had lived side by side for twenty-five years.

Surely he'd recognize me.

Jason jerked his call log open.

His finger hovered over my number for a long time, his hand trembling and refusing to stop.

He drew in a deep breath, took a screenshot of the call log, and sent it to the captain.

The other end went silent for a long while, and in the end only replied: Got it.

I couldn't hold it back anymore.

I crouched on the floor and sobbed.

Why won't you believe me?

Why won't you come looking for me?

A phone call cut through my crying.

It was my brother.

"Is that jade bracelet Lucia left still around?" His tone was warm, indulgent. "It was my mom's. Zoe's wanted it for ages. Let's surprise her with it at the wedding tomorrow."

Jason agreed with a nod.

After the call ended, he pulled open the bottom drawer.

Inside sat the jade bracelet my mother had left me.

And a man's wedding ring.

"No, Jason, you can't give that bracelet to Zoe." I crouched beside him, uselessly trying to push the drawer shut.

But I couldn't touch it.

I could only watch as Jason lifted the bracelet out and wrapped it up with care.

The man's wedding ring beside it, he tossed carelessly into the trash.

I raised my hand and stared, dazed, as the wedding ring on it faded and dissolved, bit by bit.

Another piece of my existence, wiped away.

Jason went into the bedroom.

Tomorrow's groom's suit was pressed flat and neat.

Before washing up, he checked himself in the mirror again and again like a nervous kid, his face full of anticipation and nerves.

I'd seen him like this many times.

The day he first confessed to me.

The day he became a profiler and proposed to me.

The day of our wedding.

But this was the first time I'd ever seen him look this way for someone else.

4: 4

Early the next morning, Jason came for the bride with his groomsmen and drove to the Simmons house.

It was her brother who gave her away.

His eyes were faintly red, and reluctance was written all over his face as he placed Zoe's hand in Jason's.

"Jason, she's the only sister I have. If you ever dare hurt her, I will never forgive you."

Jason swore in a low voice:

"Don't worry. As long as I'm here, I will never let Zoe be hurt."

With that, he drew the jade bracelet from inside his coat and slid it gently onto Zoe's wrist.

When her brother saw the bracelet, he froze.

He glanced at Zoe, who was still saying goodbye to their father, then pulled Jason aside and lowered his voice.

"Did you find Lucia? She called me yesterday saying she was in some cold storage, and she even made up a story about a killer chasing her."

Disgust filled his face.

"A woman that vicious, even if she got killed, the murderer would only be doing the world a favor."

I stayed silent.

I had heard that kind of contempt countless times.

But this time was different.

The Jason who once would never let anyone say a single bad word about me said nothing.

Zoe came over, holding up the hem of her gown.

When her brother saw her, he swallowed his anger and smiled, adjusting the veil that had gone slightly crooked.

Looking at the exquisite, lavish gown on Zoe's body, I went still.

The memories came rushing back like a tide.

The night before my own wedding, the gown my mother had designed for me suddenly vanished.

I was so frantic I cried.

My brother leaned against the doorway and tossed me an old, yellowed gown, saying carelessly:

"Zoe liked that dress, so I gave it to her."

"You're the older sister. Don't be so petty about every little thing."

I clutched that shabby gown and said stubbornly:

"My mother made that for me. Zoe's an illegitimate daughter. She doesn't deserve it."

My defiance enraged my brother, and he locked me inside the room.

It wasn't until the next day that Jason kicked the door open and pulled me out.

And so I walked through my wedding in a gown that didn't fit.

And my brother never showed his face, from beginning to end.

Outside, the officiant began urging them along.

Jason helped Zoe into the car with the utmost care.

I drifted behind him, following the car to the wedding venue.

The car stopped.

Jason led her carefully to the center of the ceremony platform.

The screen behind them began to play their photos.

The pictures flashed by one after another.

The first year after my death, Jason buried himself in work to hold down the grief, waking at midnight to sob over my photo.

The second year, Zoe appeared at his side more and more.

The third year, Jason packed all my things away and proposed to Zoe.

The way he looked at Zoe grew brighter and brighter.

No one cared where I had gone.

My lover and my family had long since forgotten I ever existed.

The photos kept playing.

Jason turned his head toward Zoe beside him, his tone apologetic:

"I'm sorry, Zoe. I believed Lucia's words too much back then, so I was prejudiced against you."

"But thank God, after everything, you're still here beside me."

Zoe paused, then smiled at Jason.

Just as she was about to speak, a wave of startled cries broke out among the guests.

On instinct, Zoe followed everyone's gaze to the screen.

On the screen was the evidence of her mother driving the first wife to her death, along with the evidence of how Zoe had mistreated me at every turn.

One glance, and her face went white, her eyes reddening at once.

She clutched her chest and collapsed into Jason's arms.

"Jace, I know my sister didn't want me to marry you. But she was the one who abandoned you first"

Her brother rushed onto the platform and yanked the screen's cord loose.

Jason held Zoe, his face dark.

"Lucia." He ground out my name through his teeth. "You'd better hope I don't catch you, or I swear I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life."

I watched him rage.

And suddenly it struck me as funny.

The Jason who always insisted on evidence had just convicted me on a single sentence from Zoe.

A pity. He couldn't catch me now.

Lucia had died three years ago.

The wedding venue was ringed layer by layer with her brother's men and Jason's.

Every inch of the platform was searched carefully, and not a trace of me was found.

When his assistant came to report, Jason tugged impatiently at his tie.

"She hates Zoe that much. She's the only one who'd do this to ruin her."

"Since she won't come out and apologize, then we force her to show herself."

"Put out the word that Lucia's mother was the mistress in that marriage, and drag Mrs. Simmons's grave out of the cemetery."

No.

My mother was dead. I couldn't let her be denied rest even in death.

I threw myself at Jason like a madwoman, begging.

"Jason, I didn't do this. I'm dead, I'm really dead. Please, don't do this."

But he couldn't hear me.

I hovered in midair, staring blankly at the video his assistant had sent.

My mother's urn had been tossed carelessly to one side, filth smeared all over it.

People stood around pointing, and the sound of their spitting curses never stopped.

I covered my ears, not wanting to hear.

But the voices bored straight into my head.

I curled up in a corner, my whole heart aching until it trembled.

A sharp phone ringtone burst out.

Jason answered without even looking.

"Lucia, if you know you were wrong, then hurry up and apologize to Zoe, otherwise"

Before he could finish, the captain cut him off.

There was a faint, barely perceptible urgency in his voice.

"Jason, it's me."

"The DNA results on that female body came back."

"It's Lucia. Estimated time of death, roughly three years ago"