My Forensic Scientist Wife
On the third day after my death, my body was sent to the police station in different packages.
Jonathan Walsh, my husband, and Frank Stone, my junior at work, saw my corpse and frowned.
“If only Elena were here, she would have been able to find some clues.” Frank sighed as he stared at my horribly mangled remains.
“Don’t mention her. She’s not even worthy of being a forensic scientist!”
I stared at my husband with a conflicted look. He analyzed each part of my body and deduced the manner of my death with familiar ease.
“The murderer is a monster…” Frank’s face turned pale, and he sighed again.
Jonathan calmly used all that I had taught him and perfectly pieced out the entire process of my death based on the clues from my dismembered body. I could not help but feel proud.
Unfortunately, he was still a little off the mark. He did not manage to figure out that this body belonged to me, his wife.
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