The Sleeper's Wrath and His Wife's Strike novel Chapter 188

Yves dropped his gaze, the disappointment weighing on him. Deep down, he knew the chances were slim, but he still clung to a shred of hope.

“When will the black box investigation be finished? I have to know why the plane went down so suddenly.”

“The airline will give you a full explanation,” someone replied.

Just then, Cheryl approached, leaning in to whisper quietly in Yves' ear, “Yves, don’t lose hope just yet. I saw them—all the victims—but I didn’t see old Mr. Quigley. Maybe he’s still alive.”

Cheryl had always been able to see things others couldn’t, a gift—or curse—that let her glimpse what lingered beyond the veil of the living.

Now, as she watched the scene unfold, she could see the souls of those lost in the crash drifting above them. Yet Mr. Quigley was nowhere to be found.

Oh, and she could do a bit of fortune-telling too, though her accuracy was hit or miss.

“Are you serious?” Yves' voice trembled with emotion. But then a flicker of doubt crossed his face; maybe Cheryl was just trying to comfort him with a well-meaning lie.

Cheryl caught the worry in his eyes. “Yves, I’d never joke about something like this. I really didn’t see Mr. Quigley’s spirit. For all we know, he’s still out there somewhere, unharmed.”

“Did you see the security detail and the doctor I sent along with him?”

“I did.”

“Can you describe what they looked like? And is it possible to communicate with them?” Yves pressed.

Cheryl rolled her eyes. She didn’t know their faces, but she did recognize the special emblems on their jackets.

“Their uniforms had a crest—” she began, describing them in detail.

Satisfied, Yves realized Cheryl was telling the truth; she really could see things no one else could. “Can you talk to them? I need to know where Mr. Quigley went. He was definitely on that flight.”

Cheryl walked a little way off, reaching out and waving her hand through the empty air. To anyone else, she looked completely unhinged.

Lindsay noticed and hurried over to Yves, her brows knitted with concern. “What’s Cheryl doing? Is she swatting at flies or something?”

“The Seer?” Lindsay raised an eyebrow. “Does that mean she’s not always accurate?”

“Exactly,” Yves said with a wry smile.

That made Lindsay laugh.

A few minutes later, Cheryl returned, but with Lindsay standing there, she hesitated.

“Go ahead, you can talk. Lindsay knows too,” Yves reassured her.

“You know? You’re not freaked out?” Cheryl looked at Lindsay in surprise. The truth was, she’d never had many female friends—most people distanced themselves once they learned what she could do.

She understood, really. After all, nothing was more terrifying to people than ghosts.

Although, as she’d come to realize, sometimes people were far scarier than any ghost could ever be.