The familiar mechanical voice. Curt's fists clenched, and he drew a long breath.

At Captain Carter's signal, he spoke.

"I'm Curt Baxter. Whatever you want, say it."

"Yes, I led the autopsy on the March 18 Case. But I guarantee you—on everything I am—there was no falsification."

Bernice's scream cut through for an instant, then was muffled into silence.

Curt shot to his feet, and the iron chair yanked him back down.

The kidnapper sat facing the camera, the mosaic blur over his face warping and twitching.

"Professor Baxter. Millie Sullivan was your wife. She was tortured, murdered, and cut to pieces, and you went out of your way to cover for her killer."

"Have you slept a single night these past ten years?"

"Ex-wife."

Curt adjusted his glasses, eyes dismissive.

"Millie Sullivan was paranoid, delusional, and impossible. We were done long before any of this."

"We'd already filed for divorce before the March 18 Case."

"Sure, we'd had some unpleasantness over Bernice before that, but that was all in the past."

He laced his fingers together and straightened his back.

"I'm a forensic pathologist. I do my job with integrity. I always have."

"Letting personal feelings compromise an autopsy is something I would never do and could never do."

His patience was visibly fraying. He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a warning:

"What, you want to avenge her? Then go find the real killer."

"Release Bernice. Right now. Or I promise you, I won't let this go."

The kidnapper laughed.

"Is that so?"

"Professor Baxter really thinks I have no evidence?"

"Evidence doesn't save anyone."

Curt was certain he'd cleaned up after himself.

"Whether you're doing this for Millie Sullivan or someone else, nobody's going to believe a murderer's word over mine."

"Slander us all you want. Bernice and I have nothing to hide."

"Millie's the same—can't even rest quiet in death. She should've been gone without a trace a long time ago."

I stood behind him, chest twisted tight with pain.

I'd been dead a long time, but the love and the hate had never dissolved.

Day after day, night after night, watching them build their happiness while the agony of being torn apart ground through me without end.

"She must've been something special. Dead and gone, and still someone's out here crying injustice for her."

Curt let out a cold laugh, sweeping his gaze around the room.

"Millie Sullivan, if your ghost is here, listen carefully."