Chapter 2

Steam boiled up under the showerhead.

Rose had her back to me.

Humming some off-key tune while she washed her hair.

The scar that ran the whole length of her back twisted and warped with every movement.

Soaked red and swollen in the hot water.

Seven years sharing a bed with her, I knew that scar better than anyone.

Every time I'd wanted a divorce, one look at that scar and I forced the thought back down.

But I'd cleaned it all up. Perfectly. Buried her on the hill back home.

A dead woman! How could she be standing alive at my front door four years later?

My foot slipped, and I almost went down on my knees in the bathroom.

"Honey, what are you thinking about?"

Rose turned and saw me, steadied me with one dripping hand.

My mind was blank. I shoved the towel at her without thinking.

"Nothing. Just bringing you a towel."

Then something got into her, and she wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Sid, I missed you so much."

"The whole ride home while that officer drove me back, all I could think about was holding you like this."

Her skin was burning hot.

But that press of skin on skin made my knees go weak.

Before we married, I'd worked three years as a doctor.

I'd handled dozens, hundreds of dead bodies.

I was certain. Four years ago, Rose had stopped breathing. Completely.

Right then, only one thought was left in my head.

I had to go back home.

I had to see with my own eyes whether Rose's bones were still on that hill.

"Get some sleep at home first. Something urgent's come up, I have to go out."

I pushed Rose off, grabbed nothing but my phone, and rushed out the door.

Downstairs, the feeling of being watched made me look up without thinking.

Rose stood at the window, smiling, waving at me.

I couldn't even fake a smile back.

I bolted for the train station in a panic.

Home was a dying little village, only a few lonely old folks left now.

Afraid of being seen, I killed time near the edge of the village until night.

It was deep in the night before I stood in front of the hill with a shovel.

My heart was pounding.

A few strokes down, and something metallic glinted in the red-brown dirt.

I leaned closer, and my heart stopped for a full second.

Under the still moonlight, the edge of a ring showed faintly.

The ring I'd picked out myself when we married.

Four years ago, Rose had it on her hand right up to her death.

She was right here on this hill! She'd never gone anywhere!

I didn't dare dig any deeper.

I was still frozen there when my phone suddenly rang.

Afraid the neighbors would hear, I fumbled to answer it.

"Honey, it's so late and you're still not home."

"Where are you? Let me come find you."

The familiar voice came through the speaker, and I dropped down onto the ground in fright.

"It's fine. Go to sleep."

I clamped my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming.

My heartbeat was terrifyingly loud, like it would leap out of my mouth the next second.

I fought to make my voice sound like nothing was wrong.

"Something urgent came up at work. I'll come home once it's handled."

The other end went quiet.

A few seconds passed before her concern came through.

"Make sure you eat on time, even by yourself."

"If something's wrong, you tell me. We're family."

"No matter what's happened, I'll cover for you."

By the time I hung up, cold sweat had soaked through my whole body.

What did she mean by that?

She wasn't Rose at all!

What did she want to cover for me?

I patted the hole in the ground shut again, clumsily.

Under cover of night I hurried back to the city.

The whole way, Rose's messages came one after another.

Every line full of concern.

Honey, again and again.

But to me they landed like needles.

Stabbing until my head felt ready to split open.

Rose's body was still right there in the hole I'd dug.

So the woman parading around my house right now, who the hell was she?