Chapter 4

But...

The cruiser pulled up to the precinct.

Detective Carter opened the door. "We're here."

The process of identifying the body was faster than I expected.

I was led into a cold, sterile room. On the gurney in the center lay a body covered in a white sheet. An assistant walked over and pulled the sheet down, revealing the face.

It was clean.

The dirt, the blood, and the bruises were gone. There was only the pale, lifeless skin and closed eyes.

But the facial features were unmistakably Julian's. The jawline, the curve of his brow—it was him.

I stood there, a cold dread wrapping around my spine.

This was Julian.

But this wasn't Julian.

Two violently clashing voices roared in my head, leaving me completely disoriented.

"Harper?" Detective Carter's voice cut through the fog. "Can you confirm? Is this Julian?"

I walked closer to the gurney, staring at the cold face. Slowly, I reached out, took the corpse's left wrist, and turned it over.

There should have been a scar.

Julian had a deep, jagged scar on his left wrist from a dark period during his senior year of high school. He had attempted suicide during a severe depressive episode. He survived, but the ugly pink scar remained.

When we were together, I used to gently trace that scar, asking if it still hurt.

He would always smile and say it only hurt when he remembered how lonely he was before he met me.

But this wrist was completely smooth.

Clean, unblemished skin. Not even a faint scratch.

I whipped my head around to face Detective Carter.

"This isn't Julian."

Detective Carter walked over, glanced at the wrist, and then looked back at me. "Are you sure?"

"Julian has a prominent scar on his left wrist." I pointed at the dead man's bare skin. "It's deep and impossible to miss. This man doesn't have it."

Detective Carter fell silent for a few seconds. He pulled out the DNA report and reviewed it again.

"But the DNA matches," he said, handing me the document. "See for yourself."

I snatched the paper, my eyes scanning down to the bold print at the bottom:

*99.97% DNA match with Julian’s deceased parents' DNA database.*

My hands began to tremble violently.

"This is impossible." I looked up, panic rising in my chest. "If this dead man is Julian... then who the hell was living in my apartment this past week?"

Detective Carter stared at me, silent.

"He was there," my voice cracked into a sob. "For seven days, he slept in my bed. I fed him. I kissed him. He called me Harper. He knew everything about us! If Julian is dead on this table, then who was that man?"

"Harper, please, calm down."

"How can I be calm?" I snapped. "The DNA says this is Julian, but Julian has a scar! This makes absolutely no sense!"

Detective Carter frowned, examining the corpse's wrist again. "Is it possible you misremembered? Maybe the scar faded over the years?"

"I didn't misremember!" I yelled, tears finally spilling over. "I touched that scar thousands of times. It was about two inches long, slightly raised, and lighter than the rest of his skin. I could draw it with my eyes closed!"

Detective Carter turned to the medical examiner standing nearby. "Can you explain this?"

The medical examiner stepped forward, carefully examining both of the corpse's wrists. "There is absolutely no scar tissue here. But DNA doesn't lie. Unless..."