Chapter 5 - THE EMPTY GRAVE
The air vanished from my lungs.
"Read that again," I whispered.
"Rebecca Whitmore," Eleanor repeated, her voice steady but thick with tears. "Transported via private medical charter to the St. Jude Coastal Care Facility in Maine."
I turned slowly to my mother. She was clutching the edge of the cocktail table, her knuckles white.
"She's dead," I said. It was a statement, but it sounded like a plea. "I buried her. I saw the casket."
"A closed casket," Eleanor reminded me softly. "Because of the 'severe trauma' from the crash."
Lily grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my tuxedo jacket. "Dad. Is Mom alive?"
Hearing her call me Dad broke something open inside my chest. The ice that had surrounded my heart for eleven years shattered.
"Where is she, Mother?" I demanded, marching toward Margaret.
"Don't be ridiculous," Margaret spat, though she was trembling violently. "The doctor was a drunk. He falsified his own ledgers to steal money from me."
"You lying snake," Eleanor snapped. "I saw the medical bills. They came to the house every month for a year. You intercepted them before Charles ever woke up from his coma!"
Sirens wailed in the distance. The police were finally arriving.
Arthur bolted for the service doors.
"Let him run," I said, not taking my eyes off my mother. "He won't get far. I want to know about my wife."
Two uniformed officers pushed through the grand ballroom doors. The crowd parted instantly for them.
"We got a call about a disturbance," the older officer said, looking at the smashed laptop, the ruined flowers, and the crying bride.
"Officers," I said, my voice eerily calm. "I need you to arrest this woman for fraud, bribery, and the kidnapping of my wife and daughter."
My mother scoffed loudly. "This is absurd. He's had a psychotic break. My daughter-in-law has been dead for a decade. She's buried in the Whitmore family plot at Oakwood Cemetery!"
The officer looked confused. "Sir?"
"There's one way to prove it," I said. I looked at the officer. "I am Charles Whitmore. I own the family mausoleum at Oakwood. And I am authorizing you to open my wife's casket right now."
My mother’s face finally went entirely slack.
An hour later, the rain was pouring down on the stone angels of Oakwood Cemetery.
Lily stood beside me, wearing my tuxedo jacket over her stained wedding dress. Eleanor stood on my other side holding an umbrella.
Four graveyard workers used heavy crowbars to pry the marble lid off the sarcophagus bearing Rebecca's name. The grating sound of stone on stone echoed in the dark.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Part of me was terrified of what I would see. The other part was terrified of what I wouldn't.
With a heavy thud, the marble lid was pushed aside.
The workers stepped back, taking their hardhats off in respect.
I walked forward. I looked down into the velvet-lined mahogany box.
It wasn't empty.
But there was no body inside.
Lying on the pristine white satin was a heavy burlap sack. And resting on top of the sack was a small, hand-carved wooden bird.
I reached down and picked it up. My thumb brushed over the rough edges.
"What is that?" Lily asked gently.
"I carved this for your mother when we were dating in college," I choked out, the tears finally falling. "I couldn't afford a real ring yet. I gave her this."
I turned the bird over. Taped to the bottom was a small, folded piece of paper.
May you like
I peeled it off and opened it. The handwriting was messy, rushed, and unmistakable. It was Rebecca’s handwriting.
It read: She told me you were dead, Charles. If you ever find this, I am at the house with the blue door.
