Chapter 13 - THE EMPTY GRAVE
The woman’s name was Helen Marks.
She had worked at the funeral home for twenty-three years.
Her hands shook as she sat across from me.
“I should’ve come forward sooner.”
David remained upstairs.
I didn’t tell Helen he was alive.
Not yet.
“What happened two years ago?”
Helen looked at the floor.
“Federal officers arrived before the body.”
“What body?”
“That’s the problem.”
She swallowed.
“There wasn’t one.”
Matteo had told me the coffin was empty.
But Helen continued.
“We were ordered to prepare a sealed casket.”
“By who?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
My jaw tightened.
“He showed federal credentials.”
“And you obeyed?”
“He said the remains were evidence in an active terrorism investigation.”
I laughed bitterly.
“David sold insurance.”
Helen looked confused.
“Apparently not.”
Fair.
“So what was in the coffin?”
“Sandbags.”
My chest tightened.
I had kissed the lid of a coffin filled with sand.
I had whispered goodbye to sand.
Then Helen said, “But someone placed an urn in the cemetery later.”
I frowned.
“An urn?”
“Three months after the funeral.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
She handed me a photocopy.
Cemetery authorization.
Signed with David’s name.
I stared.
“David did this?”
“I can’t say.”
The handwriting looked like his.
I went upstairs.
I put the paper on his blanket.
“What is this?”
David stared at it.
Then looked away.
“You did it.”
“Yes.”
“What’s in the urn?”
He didn’t answer.
My patience snapped.
“David.”
“My father.”
I froze.
David’s father had supposedly died years before we met.
“Your father was cremated in Arizona.”
“No.”
Of course.
Another lie.
“Who was your father?”
David looked at me.
“Thomas Winters was an accountant for the Romano family.”
I stared.
“You were born into this?”
“Near it.”
“And Alessandro?”
“Knew my father.”
Everything connected.
Everything had been hidden from me.
“My father tried to leave. Mercer found him first.”
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Before we got married.”
“Yes.”
“And you told me he died of a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“I can’t hear that phrase anymore.”
David nodded.
“He was buried anonymously because Mercer wanted everyone to believe he disappeared.”
“So you put his ashes under your own grave.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because when I staged my death, I wanted him buried under our family name.”
For the first time, the lie contained something tender.
It still hurt.
I sat down.
“Is there anything real about you?”
David looked at me.
“My love for you.”
I almost told him that wasn’t enough.
Then Logan ran into the room.
“Daddy!”
Rachel followed him.
“Slow down.”
Logan climbed onto the bed.
David winced.
“Easy, buddy.”
“You got shot.”
“Yeah.”
“Mom said guns are bad.”
“She’s right.”
“Did you use guns?”
David looked at me.
Then at our son.
“Yes.”
Logan frowned.
“Why?”
David could have lied.
He didn’t.
“Because I made some bad choices when I was scared.”
Logan considered that.
“Do you go to timeout?”
I covered my mouth to stop a laugh.
David smiled.
“Something like that.”
“Big timeout?”
“Probably.”
Logan nodded seriously.
“You can use my blanket.”
David’s eyes filled.
“Thanks, buddy.”
I turned away.
Then Rachel’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
A long silence.
Then she looked at David.
“Mercer escaped federal transport.”
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“How?”
“They were hit on I-95.”
David sat up despite the pain.
“Where is he now?”
Rachel shook her head.
“They don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I already knew.
A photograph appeared.
Our house.
Taken from across the street.
May you like
Then one message.
WE FINISH THIS WHERE IT STARTED.
