Chapter 2 - The Crack in the White Wood.
The first swing landed near the center of the coffin lid.
The impact echoed through the chapel and sent several guests stumbling backward.
A thin crack appeared in the glossy white wood.
Daniel caught Ethan’s shoulder, but the boy twisted free with a strength born from terror.
“She’s alive!” Ethan shouted.
“That is impossible,” Daniel snapped.
His voice was no longer soft or comforting.
It carried the cold command Ethan had heard through closed doors at home.
Ethan struck the lid again.
The crack widened, and a small piece of painted wood fell onto the satin skirt surrounding the coffin stand.
A muffled cry rose from beneath the lid.
Everyone heard it.
Margaret covered her mouth, and her pearls shook against her black dress.
Funeral director Paul Reeves stepped forward, pale and confused.
“Mr. Mercer, we need to open this immediately.”
Daniel moved between Paul and the coffin.
“Nobody touches it.”
The room filled with frightened murmurs.
Daniel reached beneath his suit jacket and pulled out a compact black handgun.
He did not fire it or point it at Ethan, but he held it high enough for every guest to understand the warning.
Margaret’s face drained of color.
“Daniel, what are you doing?”
“Everybody step back,” Daniel said.
His words were clipped, steady, and far more frightening than a shout.
Guests moved toward the walls.
Paul slowly raised both hands.
Ethan lowered the hammer but did not leave the platform.
Through the jagged opening, he heard rapid breathing.
He bent closer.
An eye appeared in the darkness, wet with tears and wide with fear.
Ethan knew the green-gold color instantly.
His mother had the same eyes he saw in the mirror every morning.
“Mom?”
The eye blinked rapidly.
Fingers pressed against the cracked wood from below.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Move away from the coffin, Ethan.”
Ethan turned and saw something worse than anger on Daniel’s face.
He saw recognition.
Daniel already knew who was inside.
Margaret saw it too.
She moved between Daniel and her grandson despite the weapon in his hand.
“You told us Claire was gone.”
Daniel’s gaze flicked toward the chapel doors.
Two men in dark suits stood outside the frosted glass, watching for his signal.
The service had not been arranged merely to mourn Claire.
It had been designed to bury her story.
Ethan tightened both hands around the hammer.
“I’m opening it.”
Daniel took another step.
Before he could reach the boy, Paul struck the wall-mounted emergency alarm.
A piercing bell filled the building.
The guests surged toward the exits, creating confusion between the rows of chairs.
Ethan used the moment to swing again.
The damaged section collapsed inward.
Daylight fell across Claire’s face.
Her mouth was covered with silver tape, and tears streaked her cheeks, but she was alive.
Margaret screamed her daughter’s name.
Daniel turned toward the nearest exit.
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Then the frosted chapel doors opened, and the two waiting men stepped inside.
THE WOMAN BENEATH THE WHITE LID
