Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I opened my eyes again, I was a ghost.

I realized I was standing inside the city police station.

Thunder rolled outside the window. My father, Silas Mercer, was in his forensics gear, his eyes full of a strange, detached pity.

A few young medical examiners stood around him.

On the stainless steel table sat a heavy bag. It was filled with pieces of a body.

The lead detective, Captain Miller, and his team had worked for hours to find these remains before the rain washed everything away.

I never expected them to find me so quickly.

Maybe the universe felt a little bit of pity for my miserable life. A homeless man had been digging through a dumpster and found a bag.

He thought he'd found some discarded meat.

Then he saw the human fingers.

The storm had officially kicked off the investigation into my own murder.

Outside, the rain poured down in sheets.

Officers and K9 units were scouring the city.

Captain Miller was livid. He couldn't hide his rage.

This ritualistic style was identical to a serial killer from eight years ago―the Storm Stalker.

"Silas, look at this. Doesn't this look like the Stalker's work from back then?"

My father's face went pale.

The Storm Stalker only hunted on rainy nights. He loved to torture young women.

He had destroyed so many families in this town.

Years ago, my father almost caught him.

But the killer realized he was being tracked and fled. To get revenge, he had sabotaged the plane my brother was supposed to be on.

Nolan died because of my father's job.

Captain Miller immediately made the connection. If that psycho was still alive, he was back for blood.

"Silas, if this is him, you need to call your wife. Tell Vivienne to stay inside. She's exactly his type of target!"

But when he heard my name, my father's panicked expression turned into a mask of ice.

"She deserves to go through a little fear," he said coldly. "Honestly, it's about time she realized what real suffering looks like."

Hearing those words made my ghostly heart ache.

He was right. I had been living on borrowed time for eight years.

Captain Miller knew about the family tragedy. He frowned, wanting to say something, but remained silent.

He remembered how my parents had spent three days and nights searching the mountainside where the plane crashed.

They had knelt in the dirt, screaming for the heavens to give their son back.

The grief of losing a child in middle age was something they could never let go of.

"Silas, don't let the past cloud your judgment. The brass is breathing down our necks on this one."

My father nodded and got to work.

He began to carefully remove the remains from the bag.

Suddenly, he let out a jagged curse.

"Is this guy even human?"

A young examiner saw the state of the remains and had to turn away, his eyes watering.

The priority was to identify the victim.

As the team brought in every scrap of tissue they could find, my father began to piece the puzzle together.

I floated beside him. I watched him spend an entire day reconstructing a body that had no skin left.

In a way, I was relieved.

I knew I looked hideous. I was glad my father couldn't recognize me yet.

I was just happy that my life of guilt was finally over.

Captain Miller stared at the crimson remains. Even after years on the force, he looked sick.

He asked if the killer did this to hide evidence or because he was a total psychopath.

My father's voice was gravelly and dark.

"It wasn't about evidence. Our tests show the victim was flayed while she was still alive."

He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.

"This was pure, unadulterated hatred."

He pointed at my remains.

"Look here. There are traces of salt on the muscle tissue. He salted her wounds while he carved her up."

My father looked away, his voice breaking for a second.

"And she was young. Maybe sixteen to twenty years old. What kind of monster does this to a girl?"

I floated there, almost wanting to clap for him.

He truly was the best forensic expert in the state. He found every detail of my agony.

Captain Miller's eyes were cold as ice.

"Total piece of trash. I hope he rots."

He took a breath and checked his notes.

"We're running a search for any missing females between sixteen and twenty reported in the last forty-eight hours."