The Ghost of the Wife He Buried

On the night of our wedding anniversary, the serial killer my husband was hunting walked into the flower shop where I worked.

After he stabbed me, I pressed a hand to the wound and hid in the cold storage, and I called my husband.

The line connected. What I heard first was a whistle I knew.

Then Jason James's voice came through, thick with disgust.

"Lucia Simmons. You hid with the killer for three years. Now that he's caught, your conscience finally kicked in and you're ready to turn yourself in?"

Hid for three years? Turn myself in?