Chapter 2Next Life, I Want to Be a Happy Person

"Mark, stop worrying about trivial matters," my mother ordered, her voice clipped and professional again. "Pull all missing persons reports for young women filed in the last ten days. We need to ID this victim, fast."

With that, she turned and strode to the morgue, coming to stand before my body once more.

I remember her telling me once that the dead can't speak, but they often tell us more than the living.

Dr. Peterson was performing a second, more detailed autopsy. I lay on the steel table like a crudely stitched-together doll. My mother glanced at my remains, then squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back a wave of nausea.

Her gaze fixed on the ME's hands, her brow furrowed in thought. Then, her frown deepened. She reached out and took hold of my ankle.

My ghostly breath hitched.

Is she going to recognize me?

There's a scar on my ankle, a pale, jagged line from when I tumbled down the stairs as a child.

But a moment later, she spoke, her voice puzzled. "Ligature marks on the ankle. That's not his style. Crane never tied up his victims. It was like he knew they had no chance of escape."

A dull ache spread through my chest.

Walter Crane didn't tie people up.

But that doesn't mean others wouldn't.

She was so strong, Mom. It hurt so much.

Don't you know? I was so scared.

Just then, my mother’s phone rang. She walked briskly out of the autopsy room, a rare smile gracing her lips as she answered. "Lily, darling. Sorry, I was busy, I didn't hear your call."

"Don't you worry," she cooed. "I'll make sure that menace shows up to be your maid of honor. If she dares refuse, I'll disown her for good."

Lily’s sweet voice chirped from the other end. "Aunt Eva, it's okay. Even if Chloe doesn't want to, I won't blame her. It was my fault for taking Julian from her in the first place."

My mother's expression hardened instantly. "She wouldn't dare! As soon as I'm done with this case, I'll go find her myself. I'll drag her to your wedding if I have to." Her voice softened again. "Listen, things are a little crazy right now. You stay home for the next few days, lock your doors and windows, and don't go anywhere. Understand?"

The affection in her voice was a physical thing, a warmth that never touched me. For her beloved niece, there was endless love. For me, only contempt.

The moment she hung up with Lily, another call came in. It was my aunt, one of the few relatives who still spoke to me.

"Eva? Has Chloe been by to see you? She was supposed to come over and tutor the kids this weekend, but I haven't been able to reach her for two days."

My mother’s brief moment of calm evaporated. "Why would she be here? I would never let her in my house."

"You know how she is," my mother continued, her voice dripping with scorn. "She's manipulative and a pathological liar. You actually believe a word that comes out of her mouth? That's laughable."

My aunt sounded uncomfortable. "Eva, Chloe's not like that. She's always been so helpful to me, she'd do anything I ask."

"Oh, so she'll do anything you ask, but she ignores me?" my mother seethed. "All I asked was for her to be a bridesmaid for her own cousin, and she decides to play this little disappearing game. Well, you can give her a message for me. She has two more days. If she doesn't agree, we're done. I'll have no daughter."

She hung up, her face a mask of cold fury.

Mark came to find her just in time to hear the end of the conversation. He raised an eyebrow and sighed dramatically to the empty air beside him. "You know, if someone doesn't answer your call, you could always try calling them again. Why does everything with your own kid have to be a declaration of war?"

My mother shot him a glare and was about to storm off when another officer stopped her. "Captain, we've got someone here reporting his daughter missing."

In the interview room, a middle-aged man with exhausted, red-rimmed eyes described his situation. "My daughter is twenty-three. Just graduated from college. She called me the day before yesterday, said she was coming home to visit. Now I can't reach her. She's never, ever gone more than two days without calling. Please, you have to help me find her."

My mother and Mark exchanged a look of shared sorrow. On the slab downstairs, my body belonged to a girl of about twenty-three.

I floated in the air above them, a heavy stone sitting in my chest. Even a man who seemed gruff and unobservant on the surface could be brought to his knees by the fear of losing his daughter. Less than two days, and he was here, begging for help.

But my own mother, after five days of silence from me, was still just angry. Still convinced I was playing games to get out of a wedding.

The numbness in my heart was absolute. It's true what they say. To someone who loves you, a cough is a sign of pneumonia. To someone who doesn't, you could be hanging from a noose and they'd think you were just playing on a swing.