Chapter 3: The Interrogation
The evacuation was a blur of trampled flowers, overturned hymn books, and shouting. Clara stood in the grassy courtyard across the street, the cold autumn wind cutting through her apron as the bomb squad rushed the church. They had neutralized the device with thirty seconds to spare.
Julian found her sitting on the bumper of an ambulance. His tie was loosened, his face a mask of confusion and betrayal.
"The police are saying it was a localized explosive," Julian said, his voice trembling. He stared at her as if she were a stranger. "My uncle's body wasn't in there. They found a ledger. They found evidence of fraud."
Clara pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. She looked at the flashing red and blue lights painting the white church walls. "Arthur was a good man, Julian. But he realized the foundation was a front. Your family, the board members—they were using his charity to steal."
"How did you know?" Julian demanded, his voice cracking. "You bake bread, Clara. You cater events. Why did you smash his casket?"
Clara reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her phone, opening the email she had received that morning. She handed it to him.
Julian read the words, his face dropping. "He's alive," he whispered.
May you like
"He's alive," Clara confirmed quietly. "And he wanted me to make sure the town saw the truth before it was buried six feet under. But I don't think he intended for the explosive to go off. I think someone else found out he was faking his death, and they rigged that casket to silence the evidence forever."
Julian looked back at the church, the reality of his family's dark secrets settling over him. The funeral wasn't an ending; it was just the beginning.
