Chapter 4: The Name on the Screen
“Give me the phone, Mr. Bennett.””
Detective Renee Carter held out her hand without raising her voice. Beneath the chapel's bright chandeliers, her expression remained composed, but her eyes moved constantly, taking in the shattered coffin, the scattered papers, and the pale woman fighting to remain conscious inside the white satin lining.
The funeral director, Martin Bennett, clutched his phone against his chest.
“Detective, I think we're getting ahead of ourselves,” Martin said.
“This is a private funeral. A deeply unfortunate incident has occurred, but there is no reason to assume—”
“Your phone,” Carter interrupted.
“I was simply coordinating with my office.””
“Then you won't mind showing me who you've been coordinating with.””
Martin's jaw tightened. He glanced toward the chapel doors again.
Arthur noticed.
So did Carter.
“Officer Lewis,” she said, “please stand by the entrance.””
The uniformed officer moved immediately.
Martin's face changed.
“Am I being detained?””
“I'm asking you to preserve potential evidence,” Carter replied.
“Whether this becomes a criminal investigation depends partly on what we find.””
Arthur stepped forward.
“Partly? Detective, my wife was sealed inside a coffin while she was alive.””
Carter met his eyes.
“I understand, Mr. Jackson. Right now, the medical team needs room to work, and I need everyone to stop interfering with the scene.””
Arthur looked back at Emily.
A paramedic was fitting an oxygen mask over her face while his colleague prepared to move her onto a stretcher. Her fingers remained wrapped around Arthur's wrist.
He bent down.
“I'm right here, sweetheart.””
Emily's eyes shifted toward Martin.
Her fingers tightened.
Arthur felt it.
He straightened and turned toward the director.
“You're going to explain everything.””
Martin gave him a thin, strained smile.
“Arthur, grief can make people see connections that aren't there. I understand your anger, but I have done nothing except provide the services your family requested.””
“I never requested a coffin for a living woman.””
“Your wife's death was documented.””
“By whom?””
Martin said nothing.
Carter extended her hand again.
“Phone. Now.””
After several seconds, Martin surrendered it.
The screen was still illuminated by the recent call. Carter glanced at the number, then examined the contact name.
Her expression hardened.
“Who is Daniel Price?””
Martin swallowed.
“An associate.””
“An associate in what capacity?””
“Administrative.””
“Your administrative associate called three times during a funeral, and you told him the woman in the coffin had opened her eyes.””
Martin's lips parted.
Carter looked at Officer Lewis.
“Record the number. Preserve the call history according to procedure.””
Martin suddenly reached toward the phone.
“Wait. You can't just take that. It contains confidential business information.””
Carter moved it beyond his reach.
“Then you should have considered that before discussing a possible crime in front of fifty witnesses.””
A murmur spread through the chapel.
Martin's face reddened.
“You're making a serious mistake.””
“Perhaps,” Carter said.
“But I'm not the one who buried a living woman in a coffin.””
The words struck the room like a slap.
Near the front row, an older woman began crying openly.
Arthur barely heard her.
He was watching Emily.
The paramedics had lifted her carefully onto the stretcher. As they secured the straps, Emily tried to raise her hand toward him.
Arthur took it immediately.
“Don't leave me,” she rasped.
He crouched beside her.
“Never.””
Emily shook her head.
“No. Listen.””
Her voice was barely audible beneath the oxygen mask.
Arthur leaned closer.
“He came to the house,” she whispered.
Arthur's stomach tightened.
“Who came to the house?””
Emily's gaze moved toward Martin.
“The man who called him.””
Arthur turned.
Martin stood beside Detective Carter, his eyes fixed on the stretcher.
“Did Martin come to our house?”” Arthur asked.
Emily tried to answer, but her breathing became shallow. One of the paramedics gently encouraged her to rest.
“Ma'am, save your strength,” he said.
“We're taking you to the hospital.””
Arthur nodded reluctantly.
Then Noah appeared beside him.
“Daddy?””
Arthur looked down.
The boy's black sweater was dusty with fragments of white paint. His hands trembled, and his face was wet with tears.
“What is it, son?””
Noah stared at the stretcher.
“Can I tell Detective Carter something?””
Arthur placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Of course.””
Carter approached them, lowering herself slightly so she could speak directly to Noah.
“Hey, sweetheart. I'm Detective Carter. You don't have to be afraid of me.””
Noah glanced toward Martin.
“I don't want him to hear.””
Carter followed his gaze.
“Officer Lewis, please escort Mr. Bennett to the other side of the chapel while I speak with this young man.””
Martin protested immediately.
“This is absurd. The boy is confused.””
Carter stood.
“Mr. Bennett, one more interruption and you'll be answering questions somewhere considerably less comfortable.””
He closed his mouth.
When he had been moved away, Carter returned her attention to Noah.
“Tell me what you heard.””
Noah rubbed his palms against his trousers.
“Two nights ago, I woke up because Mommy was calling me.””
Arthur went still.
“You told me you were sleeping at Grandma's that night,” he said.
Noah looked at the floor.
“I wasn't supposed to tell you.””
“Why?””
“Because Mommy said someone was listening.””
Arthur felt as if the air had been pulled from his lungs.
Carter spoke gently.
“Where were you when you heard her?””
“In the hallway outside the garage. I was getting water. I heard Mommy crying.””
“What did she say?””
Noah swallowed.
“She said, 'Noah, if anything happens to me, don't let them put me in the ground.''”
Arthur stared at his son.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
Noah's face crumpled.
“I tried! But you said I was having nightmares!””
Arthur couldn't speak.
He remembered that night. Noah had appeared in his bedroom shortly after midnight, shaking and insisting that his mother had called for help. Arthur, exhausted by hospital visits and frightened by Emily's sudden medical crisis, had carried him back to bed and told him everything was all right.
He had believed he was comforting his child.
Now he understood that he had silenced him.
“Oh, son.””
Arthur pulled Noah against his chest.
“I'm sorry.””
Noah clung to him.
“I didn't know what else to do.””
Carter waited until the boy's breathing steadied.
“Did you see anyone near your mother that night?””
Noah nodded.
“A man.””
“Can you describe him?””
“Tall. Black coat. He had a silver watch.””
Carter exchanged a glance with Officer Lewis.
“Did you see his face?””
“No. But I heard him talking to Mommy.””
“What did he say?””
Noah hesitated.
Then he whispered, “He said the papers were ready.””
Arthur released his son slightly.
“What papers?””
“I don't know.””
Carter crouched again.
“Did he say anything else?””
Noah looked toward the broken coffin.
“He said nobody would believe her after tomorrow.””
A silence settled over the chapel.
Carter slowly rose.
“Officer Lewis, I need a list of everyone who entered the funeral home during the last seventy-two hours. Staff, contractors, visitors. Everyone.””
“Yes, Detective.””
“And locate Daniel Price.””
Martin suddenly shouted from across the room.
“You don't understand what you're doing!””
Carter turned.
“Then help me understand.””
Martin's eyes darted from Arthur to Emily's stretcher.
For the first time, his voice sounded genuinely frightened.
“If you find Daniel Price, Detective, you may discover that I wasn't the person giving the orders.””
Carter stepped toward him.
“Whose orders were you following?””
Martin stared at Arthur.
Then he answered in a whisper.
“The husband's.””
Arthur felt Noah's hand slip from his.
For a moment, the chapel seemed to stop moving.
May you like
Emily's stretcher rolled toward the exit.
And every face in the room turned toward Arthur Jackson.
