Chapter 3

"Arthur, do you really think I'm lying?" I laughed so hard tears welled up in my eyes. "What if everything I said is true? What if that really is your own son's flesh and bones?"

Arthur slapped me hard across the face. The tremendous force sent me crashing to the floor, and I tasted blood on my lip.

"Shut your mouth! First thing tomorrow, I'm having you committed to a psychiatric hospital!"

Chloe staggered weakly out of the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe as she wept. "Arthur, I'm so scared... she's trying to poison me..."

Arthur hurried over to wrap his arms around her, comforting her with feigned tenderness. "Don't be afraid. I'm here. That crazy woman can't hurt you."

I sat among the scattered debris, wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my thumb, and stared coldly at the pair of them.

Tomorrow, when the medical examiner's official report is released, I'll be watching you, Arthur. Watching you fall into an abyss from which there's no return.

......

The morgue beneath the city police headquarters was perpetually thick with the pungent smell of formaldehyde mixed with rotting flesh.

When I pushed open the heavy metal door, Arthur stood in front of the autopsy table, wearing a white protective suit. He held a voice recorder in his hand and was speaking in an extremely professional, almost cold tone.

"The deceased is a male child, approximately seven to eight years of age. Cause of death is severance of the head from the body due to a combination of blunt and sharp force trauma to the neck. The body was discovered at the abandoned East Side pier. The torso shows clear signs of antemortem abuse..."

As he spoke, he idly prodded at the gruesome, reassembled little body on the autopsy table with his gloved finger.

"Detective Vance, the family is here to identify the body," the elderly officer who had escorted me in said quietly.

Arthur stopped recording and turned around. When he saw me standing at the door, his brow immediately furrowed into a tight knot.

"Ivy? What are you doing here?" He strode over, his voice harsh. "This is the Major Crimes forensics unit, not some place for you to make a scene. Get out. Now."

I ignored him and walked straight past him toward the cold autopsy table.

"Stop right there!" Arthur grabbed my arm. "Are you insane? The body on that table is in horrific condition—nothing for you to see! Are you trying to pull some new stunt to follow me around?"

"Let go," I said coldly.

"I will not! You keep this up, and I'll have you detained for obstruction of justice!" Arthur growled through gritted teeth.

"Detective Vance." The chief medical examiner, unable to stand it any longer, walked over with a folder in his hand. "This lady is here to claim the unidentified child's remains. The DNA results just came back. It's a confirmed match."

Arthur froze.

His grip on my arm slowly loosened. His gaze darted between me and the medical examiner, as if he'd just heard a painfully bad joke.

"What do you mean, 'claim the remains'? What DNA?" Arthur let out a hollow laugh. "You've made a mistake. This is my wife. My son Luke is perfectly fine at home or at school. How could he possibly be..."

His voice cut off abruptly.

Because he had finally followed my gaze to the autopsy table, staring straight at the headless corpse. 

The skin across the torso was ruined by freezing and water rot. Yet, even without a head, he knew. That was the body he had held in his arms countless times.

On the right arm of the corpse was a small, faint pink birthmark.

Arthur's pupils dilated to their absolute limit.

"No... no way..." He stumbled back as if shocked, knocking over a tray of instruments. Scalpels and forceps clattered to the floor.

"Did the forensics unit build a fake corpse just to mess with me? Very convincing!"

Arthur erupted into hysterical shouting, grabbing the chief medical examiner by the collar. "But this isn't funny! Where's my son?! Ivy, where have you hidden Luke?!"

The chief medical examiner pried Arthur's fingers off and stepped back, saying nothing.

The young officers nearby exchanged hesitant glances. The air turned to ice.

I watched Arthur's red-rimmed eyes, his trembling lips, the veins bulging in his neck.

How pitiful.

"You want to see Luke?" I spoke.

Arthur whipped his head toward me, his gaze like a drowning man grasping at a last piece of driftwood.

"Where is Luke?" His voice went soft, hoarse, almost pleading. "Ivy, take me to him... please, just take me to see him. We can talk about us at home. Just let me see my son first."

I stared at him for two seconds.

"Fine," I said. "I'll take you to see him."

Arthur froze for a moment, then broke into a nearly euphoric smile. The grin came too fast, too desperate—so much so that tears welled at the corners of his eyes.

"I knew it..." he muttered, already fumbling through his pockets. "I'll buy him something to eat. Last time he said he wanted that brand of chocolate... and that puzzle. Didn't he always want that puzzle? I'll go buy it right now, I'll just..."

"No need," I said.

He stopped and looked at me in confusion.

"He doesn't need those things anymore."

I took out the box.

Arthur's gaze fell on the box, and his smile froze for an instant.

"Not this again."

"Open it," I said. "Didn't you want to see Luke?"

Arthur stared at me, the light in his eyes shattering little by little—as if he was finally beginning to understand something, or perhaps as if he refused to understand anything.

Slowly, he reached out and took the wooden box from me.

Then he twitched the corner of his mouth into a smile. "Didn't you say you were taking me to see Luke?"

"Stop pretending, Arthur." I watched his pathetic breakdown with calm eyes, my voice utterly flat.

"You've been a major crimes detective for so many years. You've seen countless bodies. Are you really unable to tell what's real and what's not? Your son is dead. And you—you got him killed."