“Stay where you are.”
The director raised both hands.
“Her death certificate came through a private physician. You arranged everything directly. You insisted the casket remain closed.”
“Stop talking.”
“You said viewing her wasn’t possible because of the condition of the body.”
“Stop.”
The funeral director stared at the woman visibly moving inside the coffin.
“There was no condition.”
Richard’s composure fractured.
“I said stop!”
Claire flinched at the shout.
Ethan noticed and felt anger surge through him so quickly that it surprised him. All the confusing details from the past several days began rearranging themselves.
Richard answering Claire’s phone.
Richard saying she had already been taken away before Ethan woke up.
Richard refusing to let Ethan visit a hospital.
Richard claiming there would be no autopsy because the cause was obvious.
Richard controlling every conversation.
Ethan had assumed adults knew what they were doing.
Now he realized one adult had simply made sure nobody asked the right questions.
Richard looked toward Ethan again, and for a moment something like regret passed across his face.
“You were supposed to stay with your aunt until the service.”
Ethan felt sick.
Richard had never expected him to be alone with the coffin.
That was the mistake.
“You knew she was alive.”
Richard said nothing.
“You knew.”
Richard lowered the weapon slightly, but not enough.
“Ethan, there are things about your mother you don’t understand.”
Claire made a muffled sound from inside the coffin.
Richard’s eyes flicked toward her.
It lasted less than a second, but Ethan saw something ugly in the look.
Resentment.
Fear.
Hatred.
Whatever story Richard was about to tell, Ethan no longer cared.
“Open it.”
Richard laughed once, breathlessly. “You think this is that simple?”
“She can’t breathe in there.”
“She can breathe.”
The answer came too quickly.
Everyone heard it.
Richard seemed to realize what he had admitted only after the words were already out.
A woman near the wall whispered, “He knew.”
Another guest stared at him in horror.
“You knew she was inside.”
Richard’s gun hand began trembling harder.
The situation was slipping away from him.
Ethan turned toward the broken opening and reached inside. His fingers found his mother’s wrist. Her skin was warm.
Warm.
Alive.
Claire squeezed his hand with surprising strength.
Ethan nearly broke down.
For two days, he had believed he would never feel that hand again.
Richard stepped forward.
“Let go of her.”
Ethan held tighter.
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No.”
Richard’s expression twisted. “You have no idea what she was going to do.”
Claire shook her head violently.
Ethan stared at his stepfather.
“What was she going to do?”
Richard looked around the room, seemingly realizing that dozens of people were listening. His mouth opened, then closed.
That hesitation told Ethan more than any explanation could.
A siren sounded faintly somewhere outside.
Richard heard it.
His face changed.
Several guests glanced toward the windows.
Someone had successfully called the police.
Richard backed toward the side aisle.
“Who called?”
Nobody answered.
The siren grew louder.
Richard turned toward the main entrance, then toward the rear door, calculating distances. His attention was no longer completely focused on Ethan.
One of the men near the front took a cautious step toward the coffin.
Richard swung the gun toward him.
“Don’t.”
The man stopped.
Ethan used the distraction.
He gripped the broken section of the lid with both hands and pulled.
The damaged wood resisted.
Claire pushed weakly from below.
Another guest suddenly stepped forward to help.
Then another.
Richard saw what they were doing.
“Get back!”
Nobody moved.
Something had changed in the room. Fear was still there, but now it was mixed with certainty. Everyone had seen Claire. Everyone understood what would happen if they obeyed Richard.
Richard could threaten one person at a time.
He could not control the entire room anymore.
