He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, his face pale. When he saw the open freezer lid and my horrified expression, something in his eyes shifted. The warm, loving husband disappeared. In his place was a man I didn’t recognize.
“You weren’t supposed to come down here,” he said quietly.
“Daniel… what the hell is this?” My voice cracked. “You kept her body? You told the girls she lives here?”
He sighed, rubbing his face. “I couldn’t let her go. After the accident… I was supposed to identify her at the morgue. But when I saw her, she looked like she was just sleeping. I paid a lot of money to a corrupt coroner and the funeral home. They gave me her body instead of cremating it. I brought her home. She belongs with us.”
Tears streamed down my face. “This is insane. The girls think she’s alive down here!”
“They need their mother,” he said simply. “And now they have you too. We can be a family. Just… close the lid, Sophia. Pretend you didn’t see.”
I backed away toward the stairs. “I’m calling the police.”
His expression darkened. “No. You’re not.”
He moved fast. I tried to run up the stairs, but he grabbed my ankle. I fell hard, hitting my chin on a step. Pain exploded through my face. The girls started crying upstairs.
“Emily! Grace! Go to your room!” Daniel shouted.
I kicked desperately, catching him in the chest. He grunted but didn’t let go. In the struggle, my hand brushed against a loose metal pipe leaning against the wall — probably left over from some repair. I swung it wildly.
It connected with the side of his head.
