Chapter 4

Kate's POV

I'm waiting for Brian to chase after her. Any second now, he'll jump up from the bed and run after Isabella, apologizing and begging her to come back. That's what men do when the women they love storm out, right?

But he doesn't move.

Brian just sits there on the edge of our bed, staring at the door where Isabella disappeared. His face is completely blank, like he's processing something complicated in his head. There's no panic, no desperate need to fix things with the woman he supposedly loves.

What the hell?

I float closer to him, studying his expression. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looks... relieved? But that can't be right. This is the man who threw away our five-year marriage for her. The man who started working late just to spend time with her. The man who—

Wait.

He's not going after her.

Why isn't he going after her?

My dead brain tries to make sense of this. Every fight we ever had, every time I got upset and walked away, Brian would follow me. He'd apologize, try to talk things through, make it right. But now, when Isabella storms out in tears, he's just sitting there like nothing happened.

I don't understand.

Brian reaches for his phone on the nightstand, and I lean in to see what he's doing. He scrolls through his call history, and my stomach drops when I see what's missing.

The call log no record of me screaming for him to save me. No trace of the most important phone call of my entire life.

Did he delete it? The thought makes me want to vomit. Did he actually delete the evidence of my murder to protect her?

But then something weird happens. Brian starts scrolling back further, looking for my number like he's searching for something specific. His face gets more and more worried the longer he looks.

"Where are you, Kate?" he whispers to himself, and the pain in his voice catches me off guard.

Wait, what?

He hits my contact and holds the phone to his ear. I can hear the automated message: "The number you have called is no longer in service."

Brian's face goes pale. He tries again, then again. Each time, that same dead recording.

He's worried about me.

But that doesn't make any sense. He's been ignoring me for months. He's been choosing her over me every single day. So why does he look like he's about to have a panic attack?

Brian gets up and starts pacing the bedroom, running his hands through his hair. I've seen him do this before when he's really stressed about a case, but never about me. Not in years.

"Shit, shit, shit," he mutters, grabbing his phone again. He scrolls through his contacts until he finds what he's looking for.

"Robert? It's Brian. I need a favor."

Robert? That's his partner, the other deputy. What does he need from Robert at this hour?

"I need you to ping Kate's phone. Track her location." Brian's voice is tight with stress. "She's been gone for a long time, and I'm worried something happened to her."

What does that mean, gone for a long time?

I died a week ago. Has Brian been looking for me this whole week? But that's impossible. I watched him investigate my body today like I was just another case. He didn't recognize me, didn't show any emotion when he catalogued my remains.

None of this makes sense.

"Yeah, I know it's late," Brian continues into the phone. "But something feels wrong, Robert. Kate would never just disappear without telling someone. She's not like that."

How does he know that about me when he barely seems to notice I exist anymore?

Brian hangs up and goes back to pacing. I watch him, really watch him, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. This man looks genuinely terrified that something bad happened to me. This is not the behavior of a husband who's planning to leave his wife for another woman.

I feel like I'm looking at a stranger.

I felt a wave of absurdity and ridiculousness, he's my husband, the closest person to me besides my deceased parents. But when did we become two people living in the same house but not really seeing each other?

I think back to our first year of marriage, when I used to complain about Brian working so much. "I wish I could just follow you around all day," I'd said once, only half-joking. "Then at least I'd get to spend time with you."

He'd laughed and kissed my forehead. "That would drive us both crazy."

Well, joke's on us both. Now I literally have to follow him everywhere, and he still can't see me. It's like the universe's most twisted version of wish fulfillment.

I thought marriage meant never being apart, never having secrets, never feeling lonely. I thought love meant knowing everything about each other.

But I didn't know him at all, did I?

The phone rings, and Brian answers it immediately.

"What did you find?"

I can hear Robert's voice through the speaker. "Phone's pinging at the apartment above Henderson's bakery."

Well, where that Isabella lives.

Brian's face goes dark, like a storm cloud passing over the sun. This is not the face of a man who's happy to have an excuse to see his lover.

"Son of a bitch," he growls, and the venom in his voice makes me flinch.

Wait. He's angry that my phone is at Isabella's place?

Shouldn't he be confused, or worried, or... I don't know, anything other than pissed off?

Brian grabs his keys and his gun, checking his service weapon like he's expecting trouble.

"Thanks, Robert. I'll handle it from here."

Handle what? I want to scream. What the hell is going on?

Brian storms out of the house, and I'm pulled along behind him like always. He drives toward downtown with his jaw clenched so tight I think his teeth might crack.

We pull up in front of Henderson's bakery, and Brian sits in the car for a moment, staring up at the lit window of Isabella's apartment. His phone buzzes, and he answers it without checking the caller ID.

"McVeigh."

"Brian, it's Ethan from the coroner's office." The voice is crisp. "I have the DNA results from the body found at the dump."

My non-existent blood turns to ice. The DNA results.

They're going to tell him it's me.

They're going to tell him his wife is dead.

Brian's face goes completely white. "And?"

"It's a match. The victim is Kate McVeigh. I'm sorry, Brian. The body you found today... that's your wife."

The phone slips from Brian's hand and clatters to the floor of the patrol car.

Now he knows I'm dead.

And he's sitting outside the apartment of the woman who killed me.

Brian's hands start shaking. He picks up the phone with trembling fingers.

"Are... are you sure?"

"I'm sure. DNA is a perfect match. I'm so sorry for your loss."

Brian hangs up and just sits there, staring at Isabella's window. His face is a mask of grief and something else. Something that looks like rage.

Does he know? Does he know she did it?

Is that why he was so angry about my phone being here?