Chapter 2 - THE COPS AT THE ALTARBefore Derek could grab my collar, heavy footfalls echoed down the marble aisle.
Two uniformed New York City police detectives flanked the pew, their badges gleaming under the stained-glass light. Detective Vance—the lead investigator on Natalie's crash who had initially written it off as a mechanical failure—stepped forward, his face hard as granite.
"Derek Mercer," Detective Vance announced, his voice carrying clearly across the silent church. "You are under arrest for the premeditated murder of Natalie Mercer and tampering with state vehicular safety evidence."
"This is a fake!" Derek screamed, thrashing wildly as the detectives grabbed his arms and forced his custom designer suit back against the wooden pew. "She’s insane! She’s dying of kidney failure and hallucinating! Look at her—she’s on dialysis!"
"I’m sick, Derek," I said, my voice cutting through his hysterics with absolute, terrifying calm. "I’m not stupid."
Detective Vance snapped the steel cuffs around Derek’s wrists. The metal clicked with a sharp, final sound that echoed off the vaulted ceilings.
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"You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Mercer," Vance recited smoothly, turning him around toward the heavy oak exit. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
As the officers dragged Derek down the aisle—his expensive shoes scuffing against the stone, his face twisted in desperate rage—the mourners parted like the Red Sea, whispering in utter disbelief.
