Chapter 4 - The Boy Who Would Not Believe
The next morning, Daniel told Ethan that Sarah had died during the night.
He used careful words.
Unexpected cardiac event.
Nothing anyone could have done.
Peaceful.
Ethan listened without speaking.
Daniel knelt in front of him.
"Do you understand?"
Ethan stared at the floor.
"No."
Daniel reached for him.
Ethan stepped backward.
"I saw Dr. Kessler."
Daniel froze.
"What?"
"He came last night."
"Yes. He tried to help your mother."
"You carried Mom downstairs."
"To the ambulance."
"There wasn't an ambulance."
Daniel's face tightened.
Ethan had always been observant.
Sarah called it his little detective brain.
Daniel had once been proud of it.
Now it was dangerous.
"There was a private medical vehicle."
"It didn't have lights."
"Ethan."
"And Mom wasn't dead when you carried her."
Daniel stood.
"Enough."
The sharpness in his voice made Ethan flinch.
Daniel noticed and immediately softened.
"I'm sorry. I'm upset too."
Ethan looked up.
"Can I see Mom?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Her condition changed her appearance."
"I don't care."
"I do."
Ethan's eyes filled with tears.
"I want my mom."
Daniel turned away.
The funeral arrangements happened with disturbing speed.
Sarah's body was transferred to Westbridge Funeral Services before noon.
Dr. Kessler signed the death certificate.
Cause of death was listed as sudden cardiac arrhythmia.
Daniel refused an autopsy.
He claimed Sarah had long feared invasive procedures after death.
Rebecca Sloan learned of Sarah's supposed death at 10:08 that morning.
She drove directly to the Cole residence.
Daniel met her outside.
She demanded to see Sarah.
Daniel refused.
Rebecca demanded an autopsy.
Daniel refused again.
Then Rebecca said, "Sarah came to my office yesterday."
Daniel's expression barely changed.
"About what?"
"You know about what."
Daniel leaned closer.
"Be careful, Rebecca."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's advice."
Rebecca stared at him.
"I want to see Ethan."
"No."
"Daniel."
"My son is grieving."
Rebecca left.
But she did not go home.
Instead, she drove to the foundation offices and froze every discretionary account associated with Sarah's trust.
At 12:41, Daniel received the notification.
At 12:43, he called Rebecca seventeen times.
She answered the eighteenth.
"You have no authority to freeze those accounts," he said.
"Sarah appointed me temporary legal custodian in the event of disputed incapacity or death."
Silence.
Daniel had not known.
Rebecca continued.
"And since I dispute the circumstances of her death, you receive nothing until I am satisfied."
Daniel's voice lowered.
"You have no idea what you're interfering with."
Rebecca looked at Sarah's emergency file.
At the top was a handwritten note Sarah had added years earlier.
If Daniel and I ever disagree about Ethan, protect Ethan first.
Rebecca said, "I know exactly what I'm protecting."
That afternoon, Ethan was taken to the funeral home.
Daniel allowed him only ten minutes inside the viewing room.
The coffin was closed.
Ethan immediately walked toward it.
Daniel blocked him.
"Why is it shut?"
"I told you."
"I want to see her."
"No."
Ethan pressed his hand against the wood.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then he whispered.
"Mom?"
Daniel grabbed his shoulder.
"Stop."
Ethan pulled away.
A funeral worker entered carrying paperwork.
The boy noticed a metal tag hanging from the coffin latch.
SEALED AT FAMILY REQUEST.
Ethan pointed.
"What does sealed mean?"
The worker hesitated.
Daniel answered.
"It means nobody opens it."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
That evening, Ethan searched his mother's room.
He did not know what he was looking for.
He only knew Sarah had taught him something important.
When grown ups told you not to ask questions, sometimes questions became more important.
He looked under her pillow.
Inside drawers.
Behind books.
Then he remembered the final week before her supposed death.
Sarah had begun wearing an old brass key around her neck.
Ethan had asked what it opened.
Sarah had smiled.
"The place where I keep things people shouldn't find."
Now the necklace was gone.
Ethan searched the closet.
Nothing.
Then he opened Sarah's sewing box.
Beneath the thread was a folded blue handkerchief.
Inside it was the brass key.
Ethan heard Daniel coming upstairs.
He hid the key beneath his shirt.
Daniel entered.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for Mom's perfume."
Daniel studied him.
Then his gaze moved toward the open sewing box.
For one second, Ethan saw panic.
Daniel crossed the room and searched it.
"What did you take?"
"Nothing."
Daniel opened drawers.
Checked under the bed.
Then he knelt.
"Ethan."
The boy said nothing.
"If your mother left anything unusual, I need to know."
"Why?"
"Because she wasn't thinking clearly before she died."
Ethan felt anger push through his fear.
"She wasn't crazy."
"I didn't say that."
"You always say things without saying them."
Daniel stared at him.
Ethan walked out.
That night, the boy dreamed he heard scratching.
He woke at 2:16 in the morning.
At first he thought the sound was part of the dream.
Then he remembered the funeral home.
The sealed coffin.
The private vehicle.
His mother's limp hand moving slightly under the blanket as Daniel carried her downstairs.
Ethan sat upright.
He had seen it.
A finger.
Moving.
Not much.
But moving.
May you like
And suddenly he knew.
His mother had not been dead.
