Chapter 2
Daniel stared at his wife.
“What did you just say?”
Claire’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
My uncle Robert moved first.
He stepped between Claire and the exit.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
Just one strong step into the aisle.
“Claire,” he said, “sit down.”
She looked at him like an animal looking for a gap in a fence.
“Move.”
“No.”
The funeral director, Mr. Harris, walked to the front with another envelope in his hand.
His face was pale, but his voice stayed steady.
“Mr. Bennett instructed us to play the recording only if Miss Olivia requested the casket be opened.”
I still could not move.
The note shook in my hands.
Dad’s voice continued.
“Robert, if you are there, call Detective Mara Greene. She has the first file.”
Robert pulled out his phone before the recording finished the sentence.
That told me something else.
He had known part of this.
Maybe not the empty casket.
Maybe not all.
But enough.
Claire suddenly turned toward me.
“This is your fault.”
I blinked.
“My fault?”
“You always had to question everything.”
I looked at the empty casket.
“Our father is missing.”
“He’s not missing,” she snapped.
Then she froze.
Too late.
Daniel stepped backward.
“Claire.”
She turned to him.
“Daniel, don’t look at me like that.”
“You knew he wasn’t in there?”
Her lips trembled.
“I can explain.”
The recording cut through her words.
Dad’s voice again.
“Claire, you told everyone my heart failed. It did not. You know what was in my tea.”
A woman in the second row gasped.
Tea.
My father drank chamomile tea every night.
Claire had started bringing it to him after his surgery.
She said she wanted to make peace.
I had been so relieved.
So stupidly relieved.
Robert spoke into his phone.
“Mara, it’s Robert Bennett. Open it now. He was right.”
Claire bolted.
She shoved past Daniel and ran toward the side aisle.
I moved without thinking.
I caught her sleeve.
She swung back at me.
This time, I ducked.
Daniel grabbed her arms from behind.
“Stop!”
Claire screamed.
“Let me go!”
The church erupted.
People stood.
Cousins shouted.
Someone called 911.
The funeral director’s employees closed the casket, as if an empty coffin needed privacy.
I looked at Claire fighting in Daniel’s arms.
My sister.
The girl who once braided my hair.
The girl who hid my report card when I got a bad grade.
The woman who had slapped me beside our father’s coffin because she was terrified I would discover it was empty.
Detective Mara Greene arrived eleven minutes later.
Not alone.
Two officers came with her.
She walked down the aisle in a dark coat, eyes sharp, badge visible.
She stopped in front of the casket.
Then looked at me.
“Olivia Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“I need the note.”
I handed it to her.
My fingers did not want to let go.
She read the first line.
Her expression did not change.
Then she looked at Claire.
“Claire Bennett Whitman, you need to come with us.”
Claire stopped struggling.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
“No. He’s lying.”
Detective Greene said, “Then you can explain that at the station.”
Claire looked at me.
May you like
For one second, I saw the sister I used to love.
Then she said, “You should have left the lid closed.”
