Chapter 5 - The Police Arrive
Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the quiet suburban air before swelling into a deafening roar outside the church. Within three minutes, three local police cruisers and an emergency rescue van pulled up onto the front lawn with lights flashing red and blue.
Officers poured through the heavy double doors, hands on their holsters, expecting a mass casualty event based on the frantic 911 calls placed by the guests.
Instead, they found a room full of furious wedding guests, a ruined floral arrangement, a gaping hole in the altar floor, and a bride sitting in a torn white dress hugging a large brown dog.
Detective Sergeant Miller, a weathered investigator with sharp gray eyes and a permanent scowl, stepped up to the altar and looked down into the dark pit before turning his attention to the bride.
"Ma'am, I'm Sergeant Miller. Dispatch said someone rigged a trapdoor?" Miller asked, pulling out a small notebook and clicking his pen.
Standing up with the help of her father, the bride wiped her face and pointed toward the vestry and the subterranean bolt. "My fiancé—former fiancé—Julian Vance. He installed a trigger mechanism beneath the marble. If I had taken one more step, I would have fallen down into the drainage system."
Miller raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically at the sophisticated wire-rigging exposed near the baseboard. "That's not amateur work. That takes hours of prep and specialized mechanical knowledge."
"He's an engineer," she replied coldly. "And he had access to the church blueprints because his firm handled the parish historical restoration project last month."
Before Miller could ask further questions, a crackle came over his shoulder radio.
“Unit three to Sergeant Miller. We got eyes on the suspect. He just tried to break into a silver sedan parked behind the alleyway on Fourth Street. We got him in cuffs.”
Miller smiled faintly, clicking his mic. "Good work, transport him downtown. Secure the vehicle and check for any financial documents or forged asset transfers."
He turned back to the bride, his expression softening with genuine respect. "Looks like your fiancé's engineering degree didn't account for every variable. How did you spot the trap in time?"
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The bride looked down at Buster, who was panting softly, sitting guard by her bare feet.
"I didn't," she said softly. "He did."
