They Buried a Lie

"On March second, Detective Ethan Carter from the local police department called me." I stared at Hayes across the desk, leaving the cash untouched. "He asked why my husband had not been cremated until January fifteenth. I told him that was impossible. On December twenty-fifth, I watched the urn go into the ground with my own eyes."

I slapped the police record onto the mahogany desk.

"Reference number in the top-right corner. The date is right there in black and white. January fifteenth." I pointed at the date. "This is the official body transfer record issued by the police."

"December twenty-fifth." I produced another receipt. "This is the burial invoice from Evergreen Memorial."

"Invoice number: 20231225-004. Services: custom urn, white-rose memorial chapel, memorial service, and cemetery interment. Total: $20,000."

I stared at the total. "I kept vigil in that chapel for three days and lowered the urn into the grave myself. Now you're telling me my husband was not inside it?"

Hayes glanced at the official seal on the document but didn't argue.

"Temporary fill?" I looked at the stack of cash. "You stuffed ashes from God knows where into the urn and let me hold a vigil over them?"

"Ma'am, we should respect the dead." Hayes sighed and switched to a tone of concern. "The ceremony was held on time, so why does it matter what was inside? We were just trying to get your husband laid to rest as soon as possible."

"That's fraud. That's desecrating human remains." I looked at him.

"You think a recording's going to help?" Hayes dropped the pretense of a smile and stood up. He pointed at the door and raised his voice. "Security!"

Two men in black uniforms pushed through the door.

"Take what she's holding." Hayes pointed at my phone.

The guard on the left strode forward and clamped his hand around my wrist.

I didn't let go. He wrenched my hand open and snatched the phone.

Without hesitation, he hurled it onto the marble floor. The screen shattered into a web of cracks and went black.

"You're welcome to file a complaint." Hayes settled back into his chair and picked up his coffee. "But think carefully about who winds up with a record when this is over."

The guard on the right pinned my arms behind my back and shoved me toward the reception room door.

Pain shot through my arm, and bruises were already darkening beneath my skin.

"Ma'am, don't make this uglier than it has to be. Don't make us use force," the guard said from just above me.

I glanced at his badge. Number 017.

Several mourners waiting on paperwork stood in the hallway. A middle-aged man in a gray jacket pointed at me. "Let it go. He's already been buried. Don't disturb his rest over a little money. The funeral home was trying to help you."

My other hand still clutched the copy of the police-issued record.

Guard 017 yanked the paper from my hand. With a sharp rip, he tore it in half, shredded the halves, and threw the pieces into a nearby trash can.

Fighting through the pain in my arm, I fixed my eyes on the security camera overhead, its red light blinking. "You snatched my phone and destroyed my evidence. I'm calling the police right now."

"Go ahead." Hayes strolled to the doorway with his coffee. "Let's see whether the police believe a mentally unstable widow causing a scene or security guards acting in self-defense."

The guard gave me a hard shove. I stumbled out the door and fell on the front steps, my knees hitting the concrete and scraping open.

Hayes pulled a few bills from his pocket and tossed them at my feet. "Take this money and go see a therapist. Stop coming here making a scene."

Several people waiting outside to arrange services looked over. A curly-haired woman pulled out her phone and aimed the camera at me. "People will do anything for money. She's milking her own husband's funeral for a payout. The funeral home was kind enough to hold the service, and she still comes back making trouble. She just wants more money, doesn't she?"

Someone chimed in. "Exactly. The man's dead. He's ashes now, what difference does it make? She just has to make everyone miserable."

I didn't pick up the money from the ground.

I got to my feet, brushed the dirt off my knees, gave Hayes one last look, and turned toward the street.

The backup phone in my pocket buzzed. The screen lit up with a notification: cloud backup sync complete.

Behind me, Hayes's voice carried as he instructed his assistant. "Dig up everything on her. Call her boss and make sure she keeps her mouth shut."

I had just gotten into my car when a text from an unknown number came in on my backup phone. "The bottom-right corner of Daniel's headstone base wasn't sealed properly. Check it before nightfall."