Carter.
But beneath that was a handwritten note.
The officer slid it toward me.
“Someone found this in Michael’s vehicle.”
I looked at the writing.
My blood ran cold.
Because I recognized it.
It was Michael’s handwriting.
Only five words had been written.
After the funeral, we collect.
I stared at the sentence.
Then I looked up.
“When is the funeral?”
The officer answered quietly.
“It was yesterday.”
I slowly leaned back.
Yesterday.
The day they buried an empty coffin.
The day Michael stood beside Ashley and smiled.
The day he believed he had finally won.
The officer watched me carefully.
“There’s one more thing you should know.”
“What?”
“Your husband has already filed the insurance claim.”
I said nothing.
“He believes you’re dead.”
For the first time since the cliff, I smiled.
It wasn’t a happy smile.
It was the smile of someone who had finally understood the advantage
