Chapter 4

Chloe is agitated.

She leaves the prep room abruptly.

At home that evening, she paces.

She picks up her phone, hesitates, then puts it down.

She finds an old address book, flips through it.

Eleanor Vance. My old landline number. Disconnected years ago.

She dials it anyway.

The automated message: "The number you have dialed is not in service."

Of course.

She throws the phone onto the sofa. Frustration radiates from her.

The next day, she's at the grocery store.

She bumps into Sam Carter. My Sam.

My dearest friend. The man Chloe believes was my lover.

"Chloe," Sam says, his voice gentle. He looks tired, worried.

Chloe's face hardens.

"Sam." Cold. Accusatory.

"Have you seen Eleanor? I've been trying to reach her."

"Why?" Chloe challenges. "Need your partner in crime?"

Sam flinches.

"Chloe, that's not fair. Eleanor is my friend."

"Friend?" Chloe scoffs. "Is that what you call it? You and her, you were a bad influence. You both abandoned everyone who cared."

The words are like blows, even to my ethereal form.

Sam looks deeply hurt.

"Abandoned? Chloe, your mother loved you more than anything. And for the record, I'm gay. Eleanor was like a sister to me. We were never lovers. Your father... Richard twisted things."

Chloe stares, momentarily speechless.

"She was so excited about her birthday," Sam continues, his voice thick with emotion. "She was hoping... hoping maybe you two could finally mend things. She baked that apple pie, your favorite."

A direct hit. Chloe's composure wavers.

"She hadn't heard from you," Sam says softly. "She didn't even have your current cell number. You changed it years ago, never gave her the new one."

The truth hangs there. Chloe gave me no way to reach her, not really.

My last phone call to her, the one where she screamed at me about Diane's surgery, was to her work number at the funeral home. A number I got from a general directory.

I remember that call. Her voice, so full of anger.

"Stop trying to ruin everything with your drama!"

My drama. My hope for a birthday reconciliation.

Chloe looks shaken. The carefully constructed walls around her heart are showing cracks.

Later, Detective Ben Carter calls.

An old high school acquaintance of Chloe's. No relation to Sam.

"Chloe, Ben Carter. We're investigating a Jane Doe found in the state park. Female, late forties."

He gives the timeline. The time I went missing. The time she last heard my "drama."

It matches. Perfectly.

Chloe's face drains of color.

"I... I see," she stammers.

Kevin puts an arm around her, offering superficial comfort.

"It's probably nothing, honey. Just routine."

But his eyes are shifty.

He takes a hushed phone call in the other room.

I drift closer. I hear snippets.

"Yeah... no, she doesn't know... keep it quiet."

My ghostly blood runs cold. What is he hiding?

Chloe is crumbling, and her husband is a snake.

I wish I could warn her. I wish I could do anything but watch.