My wife's adoptive sister, Ashley Howard, was originally named Ashley Flores. Isabelle, her stepmother, couldn't have children, so she adopted Ashley and changed her name.
They were crying their hearts out, but Ashley's eyes were fixed on me in a way that sent shivers down my spine.
I turned to the police with my request.
"I demand an autopsy!"
"We don't agree!"
Ashley pulled Isabelle over, and all the grief vanished from her face.
"Eric, we understand your anger, but Jane is gone. Let her rest in peace!"
Isabelle pleaded, and Ashley chimed in, "Yes, Eric, give yourself and your wife some dignity. What if they find something inside her..."
Her eyes darkened as she trailed off, hinting at the affair between my wife and Gavin.
"Enough!"
I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, then angrily slammed the car door shut.
I punched the car hard, blood dripping from my hand, but I felt no pain as I walked away in a daze.
Ashley grabbed my arm. Her eyes were filled with tears, looking pitiful.
"Eric..."
I stopped and cut her off, trying to contain my anger.
"Ashley, don't call me Eric!"
Ashley had feelings for me, a twisted form of love that made me sick.
And my wife's death was suspicious. I had a gut feeling Ashley had something to do with it.
Now she thought I was just taking out my anger over my wife's death on her.
Ashley's tears fell as she whimpered, "Eric, I'm sorry! I'm apologizing on behalf of my sister!
"I tried to talk her out, but she wouldn't listen. She said she and Gavin were in love, and with you... she was just settling.
"The baby she was carrying might not even be yours."
Ashley kept adding fuel to the fire, but strangely, I felt calm.
She glanced up to read my expression, then continued, "Eric, they're dead now. There's no point digging further. They're reunited as a family of three. You need to let it go.
"My sister didn't love you, but you can find someone who does!"
I probed, "Oh? I just lost my wife. Who would want me now?"
Her face turned red, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.
After returning home from the accident scene, the wedding photo on the wall glared at me, making my eyes hurt.
I grabbed a cup and smashed it against the photo, then proceeded to break everything I could find in the house. I sat among the shattered glass, numb to it all.
"They say the dead deserve respect, but does that mean the pain of the living has to be swallowed alone?