Chapter 21 · The Call From the Dead

My phone's ringing again.

I'm standing on the sidewalk outside the coffee shop, and the screen says Dad.

Not "Dad's old number." Not "unknown caller spoofing a dead man's cell."

Just Dad.

Like he's about to ask if I'm coming home for dinner. Like the last three months didn't happen. Like I didn't stand at his funeral and watch them lower an empty coffin into the ground because the crash burned everything.

I answer before I can stop myself.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then breathing. Shallow and uneven, like whoever's on the other end just ran up six flights of stairs.

"Wanxing." The voice cracks on my name.

It's him.

I know it's not. I know it can't be. But it sounds exactly like him—the rasp he got after he quit smoking, the way he always said my name like he was asking a question.

"You married the wrong man."

The line goes dead.

I'm shaking. The phone's still pressed to my ear even though there's nothing but dial tone now. My heart's doing this stupid hammering thing and I can't breathe right and I know—I know—this is bait. This is someone playing me.