She may have called herself Cassie, may have walked and talked and dressed like Cassie - she was even perched on the bonnet of that shitty old car just like Cassie had the day before she went missing. But there was no way this could be Cassie. Not when her body had turned up three months ago and you were the poor bastard who had to identify her at the morgue.
Not that there was too much to identify at that point, they had enough of her teeth left to run a DNA test, you were just there to say yes so they could hand her body over to you and free up another drawer for the city's ever-growing legion of corpses. Her funeral was quiet and the weeks after were a mixture of relief and anguish at finally knowing she was dead and resting.
Yet there she was, whatever she was. She smiled that crooked, dimpled smile like she always had and for a moment you forgot how mangled and broken she'd been when you clenched your teeth so hard you chipped a tooth to avoid vomiting at the sight of her.
Still that smile and the slight tilt of her head beckoned you towards her and you wanted so badly to believe it was her and she was alive and everything was fine and you took one step closer and
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