Chapter 1: The Secret Inside the Mahogany Box
I knew something was wrong the moment I saw the coffin.
Everyone else saw a dark mahogany box beneath the stained-glass windows of St. Andrew’s Church.
I saw the brass latch.
It was not fully closed.
And beneath the coffin, something was glowing blue.
“Marcus, stop!””
Evelyn’s scream tore through the church.
I kept walking.
My heavy boots struck the polished marble floor as I pushed past the mourners. Men in black suits turned toward me. Women clutched their handbags. Somewhere near the altar, a child began crying.
Behind me, the twelve members of my motorcycle club entered in silence.
Nobody needed to tell them what to do.
They spread out along the pews, watching the doors, watching the strangers, watching the funeral director who suddenly looked as though he had seen a ghost.
I had known Evelyn for twenty-three years.
I had loved her for twenty-three years.
And three days earlier, I had received a phone call telling me she was dead.
The woman lying inside that coffin was supposed to be my wife.
But something about the funeral had bothered me from the beginning.
The hospital had refused to let me see her body.
The death certificate had been delivered by a private courier.
The funeral arrangements had been made by someone named Richard Cole, a man I had never met.
And when I asked Evelyn's sister, Patricia, what had happened, she had looked me directly in the eyes and said something I would never forget.
"Some things are better left buried, Marcus.""
Now I stood six feet from the coffin.
And I intended to find out why.
Two men stepped between me and the mahogany box.
"Sir, you need to step back," one of them said.
I recognized him as the funeral director's assistant.
"Move.""
"Please, sir. This is a private service.""
I looked at his trembling hands.
"Then why are you standing between a husband and his wife?""
He swallowed.
The other man glanced toward the funeral director.
That was when Evelyn appeared.
She grabbed the back of my leather vest.
"Get away from it!""
I turned.
She was wearing a black dress, but it looked as though she had slept in it. Her blonde hair hung loosely around her face. Her eyes were swollen from crying.
She looked terrified.
Not heartbroken.
Terrified.
"Marcus," she whispered.
"Please don't do this.""
I stared at her.
"Do what?""
She glanced at the coffin.
Then at the funeral director.
Then back at me.
"Just let them finish.""
I lowered my voice.
"Evelyn, look at me.""
She did.
"Did you see her?""
Her lips trembled.
"Who?""
"The woman in that coffin.""
For a moment, her expression changed.
It was brief, but I saw it.
Fear.
Pure, unmistakable fear.
Then she looked down.
"No.""
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"You haven't seen your own sister's body?""
She shook her head.
"Patricia said it was too difficult.""
I looked toward the front pew.
Patricia was sitting beside a gray-haired man in an expensive navy suit. She had been crying loudly whenever someone approached her, but the moment our eyes met, she stopped.
Her hand tightened around the man's arm.
That man was Richard Cole.
The funeral director.
I turned toward him.
"Open it.""
Richard stepped forward.
"Mr. Hayes, I strongly advise against that.""
"Why?""
"There are procedures.""
"What procedures?""
"Your wife's body was prepared for viewing. Opening the coffin now could cause unnecessary distress.""
I stared at him.
"Then why was the coffin sealed before the service?""
His face went pale.
Behind him, one of my men, Daniel, quietly approached the altar.
Daniel had served as my club's treasurer for fifteen years. He was not a man who frightened easily.
But he was staring at the floor.
"Boss," he said.
I turned.
He pointed beneath the coffin.
A thin blue line was shining through the gap between the bottom panel and the floor.
"What the hell is that?"" he whispered.
I crouched.
The light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then disappeared.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Richard moved quickly toward me.
"Don't touch that!""
He grabbed my wrist.
I looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
"Take your hand off me.""
He released me.
I examined the brass latch. There was a thin ring of dust around it, except for one small section that looked recently disturbed.
Someone had opened the coffin.
Recently.
I pulled a small pocketknife from my vest and slipped its blade beneath the latch.
Click.
The entire church went silent.
Evelyn stepped backward.
"Marcus, no!""
I lifted the lid.
Only an inch.
A cold blue light spilled through the opening.
It illuminated my fingers.
Then I smelled something.
Not flowers.
Not embalming fluid.
Something metallic.
Like electricity burning inside a machine.
I pushed the lid higher.
And froze.
There was no body.
Instead, beneath a layer of white satin, sat a black metal case.
A small digital screen glowed on its surface.
A red countdown flashed across it.
00:04:59.
00:04:58.
00:04:57.
Daniel leaned over my shoulder.
"What is that?""
I reached toward the case.
A tiny speaker crackled.
Then a familiar voice filled the church.
My wife's voice.
"Marcus, if you're hearing this, it means they told you I was dead.""
My knees nearly buckled.
Evelyn began sobbing.
The recording continued.
"Do not trust Patricia. Do not trust Richard. And whatever you do, don't let them take the blue key.""
The screen flashed.
A new message appeared.
*IDENTITY CONFIRMED: MARCUS HAYES.*
Then another line appeared beneath it.
*FINAL WITNESS ACTIVATED.*
I stared at the words.
"Final witness?"" Daniel whispered.
Before I could answer, every light in the church went out.
Somebody screamed.
A gunshot exploded near the entrance.
And when the emergency lights flickered on, Richard Cole was gone.
So was Patricia.
But the black case remained inside the coffin.
May you like
And the countdown had changed.
00:03:12.
