Answers

The investigative officer walks Wendy through the winding hospital hallways, clearly very familiar with the route, and soon enough they're at the morgue.

A slightly bald, gray haired, wrinkled man in a white coat and gloves opens the security door, a badge saying, “Dr. R. Mortis, Mortitian” on his chest, and his face goes white when he sees Wendy, “It's uncanny… this way…”

The now-trio heads deep into the morgue, where a body rests on a bench in the cold room, covered by a white blanket. “So… here she is. We already got the results back from the fingerprinting: This IS Wendy Webb.” The man pulls back the blanket enough to show the woman's face.

For the first time since she woke up in the freezer, Wendy feels the chills, “That's… how?” She blinks a few times, looking into her own face. “I'm right here. I'm still alive. How am I…”

“I don't know,” Doctor R. Mortis keeps his face carefully neutral, “This woman died of hypothermia. Her fingerprints match Wendy Webb's. After accounting for the cause of ****, her face matches the license photo of Wendy Webb. But your face does too.”

“Are you willing to be fingerprinted?” The officer asks.

Wendy just stares at her own corpse laying on a slab of metal in front of her.

The officer speaks up again after a few minutes, “Ms. Webb? Do you mind if we fingerprint you?”

Wendy takes a breath, “Okay. We can do that. This is just… do you have my purse and things?”

“Not my department…” the doctor begins.

“Currently held as evidence, yes,” the officer answers, “and I'd like to compare them. May I see your ID?”

The winter wonder woman pulls her card out of her purse, handing it to the officer, who looks at it, frowns, and pulls out his phone, taking a moment to scroll through some pictures… at which point, he frowns more, “Numbers, name, date, picture… everything matches…it certainly looks like this is a legitimate card, but so did the other…” he pauses again, “This makes very little sense. I’ll definitely need your statement. I’ll take you down to the station to get it done there.” He pockets the ID card, “This way, please….”

They head back to the police car, and over to the station. They go through security, the millimeter wave machine not giving so much as a blip, and when Wendy hands her ID as part of checking in as a visitor, Detective Dan Ger scowls and checks his pocket, but holds his peace, simply shaking his head and leading her to processing, where he has her put her hand on a fingerprint scanner.

This makes the machine's operator frown, “Try that again, please.”

Wendy shrugs and does so, while the machine operator watches closely. He then checks his instruments, frowns more, and adds, “May I see your hand, please?” Winter shrugs and raises her hand, which the operator grabs and examines carefully, “Okay, you have fingerprints. Maybe the machine is locked up? I think we still have some of the ink pads, hold a bit…” he starts shuffling through a cabinet behind him.

Detective Dan Ger nods slowly, and taps his hand on the sensor… which immediately gives a pleasant beep.

The machine operator turns back to the machine, holding an ink pad and some paper in his hand, seeing the detective's information popping up, “Oh, it's working now? Good. Please try again, ma'am.”

Wendy taps the sensor pad again to exactly zero effect, and the detective interrupts, “Do try the old method, please. I don't think machines like her.”

“Okay…” the operator frowns, handing over the pad and paper, “Please press your fingers into the ink, then onto the paper.” The heroine obeys, leaving a perfectly clean sheet of paper when she's done.

This makes Wendy frown, and she looks at her hands… which have not a trace of ink on them, “Dry pad?”

The detective shakes his head, and demonstrates by tapping one of his own fingers on the pad, then the corner of the paper, leaving a clear mark, “Doesn't seem to be it…” the detective pulls out his phone, unlocks it, opens an app briefly, nods, and puts his phone away, “I'm quite certain I know what's going on… I have one last test before I let you go, ma'am, please come with me.”

The detective turns, and Winter follows him down a flight of stairs to a basement firing range, currently unoccupied. The detective grabs a paper target on the way in, and walks to one of the firing booths, hanging it up and hitting the button so the machinery takes it back to the back of the range. He then takes a deep breath and begins pacing around his suspect, “Okay, so… machines don't see you. My phone's camera doesn't pick you up, the fingerprint scanner didn't pick you up, the millimeter wave machine didn't catch anything.” He keeps walking as he continues, “you didn't even pick up any ink from the pad. Moreover, I took your ID, yet you still have it, a perfect copy of the one found with the body in the morgue… your pants, shoes, and purse also match perfectly. You are the single most convincing and coherent case I have ever seen, but I have some very mixed news for you…” the detective stops and turns to Wendy, with her directly between him and the target, then he draws and fires several times before she can react, “...you're dead.”

The woman blinks a few times in shock, and paws at her own chest, looking for holes that aren't there. As she does so, the detective walks around her, and presses the button on the machine to retrieve the target, which shows several closely grouped shots in the outline's heart.

The detective continues, “You're not breaking any laws over which I have jurisdiction, and you are very much out of my jurisdiction. You aren't faking being Wendy Webb. You come by that ID in your purse…” he pauses, “...honestly enough. As far as I can tell, you have not deliberately interfered with my investigation into your ****, and have been as cooperative as you possibly can be. I would like to interview you on what happened, but I can't record it as is required by law, so it doesn't matter. You're free to go.”

The ghost girl blinks, “Umm, what?”

The man smiles sadly, “You're a ghost. You are the single most coherent ghost I have ever seen. You are the single most complete ghost I have ever seen… you breathe when you speak, you aren't transparent at all, you are perfectly defined down to your fingerprints, individual hairs, the fibers of your clothes, and the things you carried with you everywhere that few people examine in the kind of detail needed to remember them. You are the single strongest ghost I have ever seen, opening doors and moving things as easily as any living person. But you don't stop bullets,” he points at the paper target, now close enough to grab, “you don't actually need to breathe, and only things with souls can detect you. You have no real physical presence. I hope you can move on. I will do everything I can to bring your murderer…”

“I wasn't murdered,” Wendy shakes her head, “A rat dragged the box of frozen waffles away that I used as a doorstop, and the freezer closed and latched. It was an accident, nothing more.”

The man opens and closes his mouth silently a few times, “Okay. I can't use that as testimony, but… okay. You're breaking all the rules about ghosts, you know.”

“Ah… what?”

The detective pauses, “Why are you still here?”

“Because after the shock of you shooting through me harmlessly…”

“No,” Detective Dan Ger interrupts, “I don't mean ‘in this room,’ I mean ‘still on Earth.’ Every ghost I have ever met or heard of has some unfinished business: Justice for their ****, a child to care for… something that tortures them enough that they put off and risk their chance at literal heaven to try and take care of it. But… you just showed up for work like nothing happened. What drives you?”

“Uh…” Wendy pauses, “Nothing? I don't really feel very strongly about anything.”

“Exactly,” the detective nods, “you're breaking the normal rules for ghosts.”

Winter pauses, “So… what now?”