“Mike, why can’t we get in touch with Karen? Could something have happened to her?”
Kyle, the bridesmaid, was so anxious she was on the verge of tears.
Mike’s face grew darker and darker. He grabbed his coat and dashed out. “I’m going to find her!”
He sped all the way home and when he pushed open the door, the living room was silent.
My slippers were neatly placed by the entryway and the wedding dress was still hanging on the rack in the center of the room, the dust cover not even removed.
“Karen?” he called out.
He searched every room one by one, even opening the wardrobe to check, but there was still no sign of me.
He checked the bathroom and confirmed that I hadn’t come home the night before.
He couldn’t help but smile wryly, then picked up the wedding dress and headed straight to the police station.
He knew that the only reason I would neglect everything, including the wedding, was if I had been called in to help with a body reconstruction.
After all, every time I reconstructed a body, it helped confirm the deceased’s identity and bring justice to the wronged.