“You’ve always been in the way,” my sister whispered, shoving me out of the chopper while my husband watched, silent and complicit for the $5M payout. Everyone thought I was dead. But when I pushed open the church doors during my funeral service, my husband went pale. I locked eyes with him and said…

my pinned leg. “I want to go to my funeral.”

Reeves blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I want to look them in the eyes while they pretend to cry over my empty casket. If you want a confession, Detective, let me walk into that church.”

Chapter 4: The Ghost at the Back Row

The morning of my funeral was appropriately bleak. Heavy, bruised clouds hung over the city, threatening continue reading …