Chapter 4 - The Corpse at the Altar
The morning of my funeral, the sky over Denver was the color of a bruised plum. Heavy, slate-gray clouds hung low over the municipal cemetery, threatening a torrential downpour that matched the bleak, theatrical mood of the city’s emergency personnel.
Hundreds of people filled the chapel grounds. Firefighters in crisp dress uniforms with black mourning bands stretched across their badges stood in rigid, solemn rows. Wreaths of white roses—the exact same flowers from the ruined wedding venue—lined the path to the open-air mausoleum.
At the center of it all stood Preston Hale.
He looked like a ghost. His uniform hung loosely on his frame, his eyes were sunken and rimmed with dark purple shadows, and he stared straight ahead with a vacant, hollow expression. Every few seconds, Khloe—dressed in an impeccably tailored black mourning coat, dabbing her dry eyes with a lace handkerchief—would reach out to touch his arm, whispering soothing platitudes into his ear.
"He's destroying himself," Inspector Miller murmured from the front seat of the tinted black SUV parked discreetly just outside the cemetery gates. "Look at him, Tara. He looks ready to jump into that open grave himself."
I sat in the back of the SUV, shrouded in heavy black mourning veil and a wide-brimmed hat that cast a deep shadow over my face. My skin was still healing, covered by a high-tech medical foundation, but my eyes were sharp, bright, and completely devoid of mercy.
"Guilt is a heavy anchor, Miller," I replied, my voice smooth and controlled now that my vocal cords had partially healed. "Let's see how well he swims when I cut the rope."
"Are you sure about this?" Miller asked, turning to look at me with genuine concern. "The moment you step out of this vehicle, the legal charade ends. The federal marshals are ready to move on the financial warrants, but once Preston sees you... there’s no turning back."
"I didn't come back to turn back," I said, opening the car door. "I came to collect."
As the strains of a somber violin rendition of Amazing Grace drifted across the damp grass, Preston stepped up to the podium. The microphone feedback screeched softly in the damp air.
He cleared his throat, his hands trembling so violently he could barely hold his index cards.
"Tara..." Preston began, his voice cracking violently. "Tara was... she was the best of us. She was light when everything else was dark. And on that day... the worst day of my life... I failed her."
A heavy murmur rippled through the crowd of firefighters. Several senior captains exchanged uneasy glances.
"I made a choice," Preston continued, tears finally spilling over his eyelashes, streaming down his hollow cheeks. "In the heat of the moment, with smoke blinding me and panic screaming in my ears, I chose wrong. I told myself it was about triage. I told myself Khloe needed me more. But the truth... the god-awful truth is that I took her for granted. I thought she would always be there, waiting behind that door."
Khloe, standing a few feet behind him, flinched sharply. A flash of genuine panic crossed her face. She stepped forward, hissing, "Preston, stop it. You're rambling. Sit down."
"No, Khloe," Preston snapped, his voice suddenly cutting through the weeping violin with terrifying sharpness. He turned to look at her, his eyes burning with a sudden, erratic fury. "You were there. You were in that hallway. You told me you couldn't breathe. But when I pulled you out... you didn't even have soot in your lungs. The paramedics said your oxygen levels were normal."
The atmosphere in the cemetery instantly froze. Every head turned toward Khloe.
Khloe’s face drained of all color. She clutched my mother’s pearl bracelet tightly around her wrist. "Preston, you're out of your mind. You're grieving! You don't know what you're saying!"
"Don't I?" Preston whispered, taking a step toward her. "For three days, I’ve replayed every second of that fire in my head. Why was the door jammed from the outside, Khloe? Why did the fire investigators find chemical accelerant residue exclusively on the inside of the bridal suite?"
Before Khloe could scramble back or scream, a sudden, sharp voice cut through the damp air from the back of the crowd.
"Because she locked me in."
May you like
The entire crowd gasped, turning around in unison.
Slowly, deliberately, I lifted the black mourning veil from my face and stepped out from the shadows of the SUV, walking down the paved central path straight toward the altar.
