Too Late For Regret: The Ghost Wife

to use the ph

ves crushed under a heavy boot. It was the fi

aking her flinch. Every sudden noise in this windowless room felt like the metallic click of a rifle bolt echoing in a desert compound. Her scarred fingers

uit slid a paper cup of warm

en the bottom of the cup hit the table with a sharp clack, Deanna gasped, her hands flying

er tone overly gentle, the kind reserved for fright

est heaving. She stared at the black

hroat burning with the effort. "Joseph Cole. He d

suffocating silence. The male agent stopped typing on his keyboard. The rhythmi

tacts?" the female agent asked, refu

confusion knotting in her st

. He pointed a thick finger at a bright

en permanently deactivated," he sai

The red letters blurred tog

tack of legal documents. She slid the heavy paper across the tab

n of Death

own at the applicant line. The signature there was familiar. It was the sa

ph C

ically. She pointed a trembling finger at her

years ago, based on the duration of your disappea

sk phone. Her fingers clumsily punched in the ten digits she had repeated in her head eve

ve reached is no l

elt like a physical

the disconnect button. "Mr. Cole has c

car. Please. Take me to Long Island. Take me to our estate. If

esh sheet of paper-a current census registry. She uncapped a yellow highlighte

to the box labeled Spouse under Joseph Cole's nam

y Ri

llapsed backward into the hard plastic chair. Her elbow caught the paper cup, sending the warm water

h holding her face, his tears wetting her cheeks as he swor

ded in Deanna's ears, drowni

nt reached out

hysical contact felt like a burn. Her eyes were wide,

ement sent the chair crashing backward ont

en. Two armed security guards rushed in, the

your identity is legally restored, you have no citizen rights. You can't even book a hotel. We

tric fa

na snatched her waterproof bag from the floor, backi

her voice dropping an octave. "

the female

ff her military dog tags. The metal bit into her neck, leaving a r

and bolted

le memory took over. She dropped her shoulder, sidestepped with br

s echoing down the hallway. Her boots pounded against the floo

pen, threw her bag in, and fell into the backseat. She leaned forward, her trembling hands gripping the partition. "Drive," she rasped, her voice barely a whisper. "I don'

of the Long Island estate