I had never wanted cremation.
Victoria knew it.
But fire erased evidence.
And fire could silence a man who wasn’t actually dead.
The vehicle began to move.
Every turn shifted my body slightly against the satin lining.
I fought to move a single finger.
Nothing.
I tried to blink.
Nothing.
I tried to steady my breathing.
It came so faintly I could barely feel it.
Beyond the coffin’s walls, traffic rolled by.
People heading to work.
Grabbing coffee.
Grumbling about the weather.
And I was on my way to a furnace while my wife sat nearby, pretending to grieve.
Part Four: The Final Goodbye
The drive ended faster than I’d expected.
Doors opened.
The coffin was wheeled down a ramp.
The air shifted. The chapel’s flowers and polished wood gave way to something else.
Now it was metal, dust, and heat.
A crematorium worker spoke respectfully.
“Mrs. Cole, would you like one final private moment before we proceed?”
“Yes,” Victoria said. “Dr. Vance is family. I’d like him to stay.”
The employee paused.
“Of course.”
A door shut.
Once more I was trapped with the two people who’d tried to end my life.
Victoria let out a breath.
“I hated that service.”
“You were convincing,” Harrison said.
“I had to be. Half the board was watching me.”
“They believe you.”
“They’d better.”
The lid creaked faintly as Victoria set her hand on it.
“Do you think he knew?” she asked.
“Knew what?”
“About us.”
“No.”
“What about the transfers?”
Harrison hesitated.
“He’d started asking questions.”
My thoughts spun. Two weeks earlier, my CFO had told me money was flowing through a consulting account I didn’t recognize.
When I brought it up with Victoria, she’d claimed it was tied to a charity project.
Harrison had told me to step back from work, blaming stress for my heart trouble.
They’d been stalling.
Getting ready.
Victoria’s voice dropped further.
“I still can’t believe you kept the recorder.”
“I destroyed it.”
“You said you threw it out.”
“After I smashed it.”
