Fugitive In Name, Dead For Eight Years

After my death, Rachel, the serial killer who had terrorized the entire country, was finally captured.

But she was cunning beyond belief. Every year, she would confess to a new, unsolved murder just to delay her execution. Because each confession turned out to be chillingly true, her case was constantly re-examined, driving the publics fury to an absolute boiling point.

Until the eighth year.

Just when everyone believed Rachel had finally run out of secrets, she dropped another bombshell.

"For years, you have all been begging me to reveal where Lucas is. Well, I can tell you now: he is dead. I killed him."

"Absurd!"

My sister, the lead prosecutor on the case, immediately fired back. "Lucas was jealous of his adopted brother. He hired you to kill him, and when the hit failed and you were caught, he fled the country with millions in family assets. He is still a fugitive. How could he possibly be dead?"

Rachel looked up, her single good eye glinting as she let out a mocking laugh.

"Someone did hire me back then, but it wasn't him. And the target? It was him."

"Don't believe me? The criminal profiler who helped catch me, wasn't she his fiance? Bring her here. Let's see if she can drag the truth out of me so you can finally close this file."

A collective gasp echoed through the courtroom, every eye locking onto my sister, Abigail.

I was hovering just behind the prosecution bench, barely half a foot away from her. I could feel the sudden, suffocating catch in her throat.

When my breath left me eight years ago, my consciousness did not fade. Instead, a strange, invisible force anchored me to the people I had once loved most.

I had watched Evelyn write countless psychological analyses of me on her whiteboard after I vanished, ultimately concluding that I had a strong motive and the capability to commit the crime.

I had watched Abigail build the prosecutions case, declaring that my jealousy of Thomas had driven me to pay an assassin to put an end to him.

Our parents could not survive the devastating blow. They collapsed, hospitalized with strokes, and never woke up again.

After their joint funeral, Abigail wiped my name from the family records, erasing my existence like a stain. From that day on, Thomas became the only son, the only brother left in the family.

Two years later, carrying the legacy and wealth that should have been mine, he married Evelyn in a lavish wedding.

Every single milestone of their lives tore through my spectral soul.

In the courtroom, Abigails hand trembled, her pen pausing over the legal pad. She stared at Rachel for a long, quiet moment.

"The evidence in this case is ironclad, and over seven appeals, the courts have consistently ruled that Lucas fled the country after orchestrating a murder-for-hire plot."

"Your fabrications are nothing but a desperate attempt to delay your execution. The prosecution requests a recess."

The judge slammed the gavel. Abigail packed her files and walked out without looking back.

I followed her out of the courthouse, drifting all the way to the cemetery.

Standing before our parents headstone were Evelyn and Thomas, their fingers tightly intertwined.

Hearing footsteps, Evelyn turned around, her voice raspy. "Did she talk? Did she say where Lucas is hiding?"

Abigail shook her head, her face grim. "She claims... Lucas died eight years ago. She says she killed him."

"That's impossible! It's ridiculous!" Thomas interrupted, his voice cracking with defensive anger. "If Lucas is dead, who hired her to kill me? Who emptied our familys bank accounts?"

"If he hadn't committed those atrocities, Mom and Dad wouldn't have suffered those fatal strokes. They died within a month because of him!"

"They loved him so much, yet he didn't even show up to their funerals. He took the money and hid like a coward. Eight years, and not a single word!"

He grew increasingly hysterical, clutching his chest as if the grief were too much to bear.

Evelyn wrapped her arms around him, soothing him with gentle whispers. "Don't cry, Thomas. Abigail and I would never believe her lies. Lucas committed those crimes. Even if he and Rachel collaborated on this story, the truth cannot be rewritten."

I floated right in front of her, watching the utter hatred burning in the eyes of the woman who had once promised to love me forever. My soul felt drenched in ice.

During our happiest years, Evelyn had held my hand, swearing she would always stand by me. Yet she was the one who drew up the criminal profile that branded me a monster.

I wanted to scream that I was innocent, but no sound came.

Abigail looked down at the gravestone, her expression conflicted.

"I also believe Rachel is lying. She uses these confessions to buy time. But this time, she specifically asked to see the profiler who drafted Lucass profile. She wants you to judge if shes telling the truth."

Evelyns eyes flickered, but she remained silent.

Thomas reached out, gently supporting her slightly protruding pregnant belly. "Evelyn, don't go. Your third trimester has been so difficult, and you haven't been sleeping. Let me look after you. Don't waste your energy on a lunatic."

Evelyn looked at him, torn, but ultimately shook her head. "No, I have to see her. For eight years, we've lived in this shadow. Whether Lucas is alive or dead, I need to know where he is."

That evening, in the high-security visitation room.

The moment she saw Evelyn, Rachels lips curled into a sickening grin.

"Well, if it isn't the brilliant profiler. I've heard so much about you."

Evelyn sat down, her gaze icy. "Lies won't save you. Tell me where Lucas is."

Rachel leaned back, chuckling. "What's the rush? We have plenty of time. That profile you wrote for Lucas... it was a masterpiece. Even I believed he was the killer when I read it."

She paused, her tone turning mocking.

"But it's a pity. A top-tier profiler like you couldn't even see through the man you claimed to love. The monster you described cried like a baby before he died. He lost all his dignity, kneeling in the dirt, begging me to spare his life."

Rachel seemed to lose herself in the memory, mimicking my terror with dramatic gestures.

"Please don't kill me! I have a family who loves me, and a fiance I'm supposed to marry! She's three months pregnant with our baby! Please, I'll give you everything, just let me live!"

Hearing her mimic my dying pleas in that high-pitched, mocking voice, my spectral form convulsed with agonizing pain.

The memories of that dark basement and the smell of my own blood rushed back. I screamed in silence, hiding my face.

Evelyn flinched, suddenly looking toward the empty space where my spirit hovered, as if she had felt a sudden chill.

The next second, she slammed her hand onto the table. "Enough! Shut up!"

"Why should I?" Rachel laughed harder. "Don't you want to know how he died? I stabbed him forty-three times, carefully avoiding his vital organs. I wanted him to bleed out slowly, to feel his life draining away."

"The boy who loved you so much crawled on the floor, clutching his stomach, begging for a savior who never came. In the end, he just stared at the ceiling, weeping until his eyes ran dry of blood, and then he stopped breathing..."

"I told you to shut up!" Evelyn roared, her voice cracking. "You can't manipulate me with these sick fantasies! Lucas is alive. And as for my pregnancy back then, it was a false alarm. You can't shake my resolve!"

Rachels eyes turned mocking. "Are you trying to convince me, or are you just trying to quiet the guilt in your own heart?"

She dragged a piece of paper and a pen toward herself, scribbling rapidly. Then, she slid the paper across the table and closed her eyes.

"I've said my piece. Let's see if the brilliant profiler can crack this puzzle."

Evelyn looked at the paper. It was covered in strange, twisted lines that resembled neither letters nor symbols.

Before she could demand an explanation, the guards entered and led Rachel away.

Evelyn sat frozen, staring at the paper until Abigail and Thomas walked into the room.

"Evelyn, are you okay? What did she say?" Thomas hurried to her side, looking at the paper. "What is this? It's just scribbles. We shouldn't let a lunatic waste our time and ruin the department's credibility!"

Before anyone could stop him, he snatched the paper and tore it into shreds.

The officers in the room gasped. "Thomas! That was potential evidence! We could have analyzed or reconstructed it!"

Thomas ignored them, turning to Abigail with tears in his eyes. "Abigail, please don't dig into this. Rachel is a psychopath. If she keeps spouting these lies, it's only going to hurt us, the real victims!"

"Eight years ago, to save me, you took three stab wounds from Rachel. You were in the hospital for three months, and the doctors said you almost didn't make it. I don't want you to suffer anymore. Lucas already destroyed our family once. Are we going to let him do it again through her?"

Looking at his tearful, protective face, Abigails resolve crumbled.

"Thomas is right."

"Rachel is just playing games to stall her execution. Maintain the original verdict. No further investigations will be opened. Anyone who pries into this privately will face disciplinary action."

The officers nodded and filed out.

My heart sank into an abyss of cold despair. My own sister had just closed the door on the truth.

But then, Evelyn spoke up. "I have some paperwork to finish at the office. Abigail, please take Thomas home first."

As she spoke, she adjusted her glasses, a tiny habit she only did when she was hiding something. Only I noticed.

I followed her back to her private office. She locked the door, rushed to the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet, and pulled out the old dusty file on my case.

She grabbed a fresh sheet of paper, closed her eyes, and with a few precise strokes, recreated Rachels sketch perfectly from memory. Her spatial memory was flawless.

She compared the sketch with the old street maps of the city.

Just as she was on the verge of making a breakthrough, her phone rang. It was Abigail.

"Evelyn, Thomas is in terrible shape. The stress of today's events has triggered his panic attacks, and it's putting your pregnancy at risk. He is hyperventilating and losing consciousness. I'm driving him to the hospital right now. Get here quickly!"

Evelyn rushed out, leaving the files scattered on her desk.

I followed her to the hospital. In the private room, Thomas looked pale and fragile. The moment he saw Evelyn, he threw his arms around her.

"Evelyn, you're finally here!"

"I dreamed of Rachel... she was chasing me with a knife! I ran, but there was nowhere to hide. I'm so scared. For eight years, I haven't had a single peaceful night. As long as she's alive, the nightmare will never end! I feel like I'm losing my mind!"

Evelyn held him, whispering comforts, but he kept sobbing.

Abigail stood by the window, her expression grim. "The doctor says your pregnancy is highly unstable due to the sheer stress Thomas's episodes are causing you. If this keeps up, you and the baby will both be in danger."

She gritted her teeth. "Lucas, you are truly heartless. Even after eight years, you won't let Thomas go. You're using Rachel to destroy him!"

She stormed out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Evelyn called out.

"To the courthouse. I will demand the immediate authorization of Rachels death penalty. She won't have another day to terrorize this family!"

Thomas gradually calmed down. But then, Evelyns phone rang. It was her colleague.

"Evelyn, your office just caught fire! We put it out quickly, but many files were destroyed. You should come check."

The files of my case were ancient and unique; there were no digital backups. Before Evelyn could leave, Thomas clutched her sleeve, begging her to stay. And once again, she prioritized him.

I watched her sit by his bed until he fell asleep. My ghostly heart, which I thought could no longer feel, broke all over again.

By the time she left the hospital, it was dawn. Abigail called her.

"Under my pressure, Rachels execution has been fast-tracked. It will take place at ten this morning."

Evelyn was stunned. "So soon?"

"For Thomass sake, she cannot live another day."

Evelyn was silent, then hung up. But right before she did, Abigail added: "Evelyn, I dreamed of Lucas last night. He was just a small, timid boy, the way he was when we first brought him home from the orphanage. He would save a piece of candy in his pocket for weeks, but for my birthday, he spent all his savings to buy me those high-heeled shoes I had only mentioned once. I keep wondering... how did such a sweet boy become a monster?"

She hung up. Evelyn stood frozen at the green light until the cars behind her honked.

When she reached her office, the desk where my files had been was reduced to ashes. She collapsed to her knees. "Am I too late?"

Then, she remembered the pattern. She dipped her finger in the soot and drew it on the floor. She pulled out her phone and opened the old geographical maps of the city from eight years ago, overlaying the twisted lines onto the old grid.

The intersection matched a massive, abandoned construction site that had been derelict for a decade.

She drove there immediately. The concrete structure was decaying, steel rods rusting in the open air. Evelyn searched the dark basement with a flashlight, room by room, until she found a hidden chamber.

Inside was a dusty crate. She opened it to find rows of videotapes, each labeled with a date. She recognized the dates; they were the active dates of Rachels victims.

Her hands shook as she found the tape with my disappearance date. She started the old generator, popped the tape into the dusty player, and the screen flickered to life.

Before the image even cleared, a desperate, sobbing voice echoed through the concrete room.

"Please, please don't kill me. I have people I love... I haven't even said goodbye to her... I don't want to die here..."

It was my voice. Evelyns face turned white as a sheet.