Whispers of Deception

Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

10:00 a.m.

November 13th, 2022

Calamity Hills Church, Mills Creek, Massachusetts

T he sky was somber, and thick clouds hung overhead as if the heavens themselves mourned the loss of Jacob Finley. The church was filled with a palpable grief, the kind that seeped into the very walls, clinging to the air like a suffocating mist.

“Second funeral in a month,” Sebastian murmured beside Lilia, his voice low and carrying an edge of dark humor. “Coincidence, or are we just extremely unlucky?”

Unlucky was an understatement, Lilia thought, but she couldn’t find the words to respond.

The loud, heart-wrenching wails of Jacob’s mother echoed through the church, piercing through the silent crowd, causing tears to well in Lilia’s eyes. The sound was unbearable, a raw expression of the torment they had inflicted. They had done this. They had caused this pain.

Her hand instinctively gripped Sebastian’s forearm, her fingers digging into the fabric of his suit jacket, seeking some kind of stability in the chaos of her emotions.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his lips brushing softly against her temple in a fleeting, almost tender gesture. “You look guilty.”

“We are guilty,” she hissed back.

The service droned on, the minister’s words a distant hum as he spoke of life, loss, and the promise of peace in the hereafter. The air was thick with sorrow, each mournful face reflecting the collective grief of the gathered crowd. Lilia could hardly focus on the words being spoken; her mind was too consumed with the gnawing guilt that had taken residence in her chest, a relentless reminder of the unforgivable.

There were brief, tearful tributes from Jacob’s family and friends, each one a painful testament to the boy he had been—the boy they had taken from the world. But it wasn’t until his younger sister stepped up to the pew that Lilia felt her throat tighten, her breath catching painfully in her chest.

“My brother was my best friend,” she began, her voice clear but laced with a sorrow that resonated in the stillness of the church. “The kindest person I know. He was always there for me, and always made me laugh when I was sad. I never thought I’d have to live without him. He didn’t deserve this. None of this should’ve happened.”

Each word was a dagger to Lilia’s heart, a reminder of the irreparable damage they had caused. She could feel the tears threatening to spill over, her vision blurring as she blinked them back. Her grip on Sebastian’s arm tightened, as if holding on to him would somehow keep her grounded, could keep her from breaking apart completely.

But it was too much. Her hands shook as she grabbed her bag, murmuring quick, breathless ‘excuse me’ repeatedly as she hurried down the aisle, ignoring the questioning looks of the congregation. She could feel the walls closing in around her, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her. Her hands hit the double doors of the church with a force she hadn’t realized she possessed, and she stumbled outside into the cold, crisp air. The wretched sound that escaped her mouth was a mix of a sob and a gasp as she doubled over, losing the meager contents of her breakfast in to the bushes.

A hand gathered her hair, and she whimpered, wiping her lips with trembling fingers. As she stood, there was an outstretched handkerchief being offered to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, wiping her face.

“You’re welcome.” The voice was familiar, and it caused her to look up, her heart shuttering in her chest.

“Detective McCall,” she murmured, her voice catching in her throat.

“Lilia.” He nodded, her gaze steady and unreadable. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue as she looked at him with suspicion.

“Weak stomach?” he questioned, his tone casual.

“Yeah. I guess,” she answered, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

“Did you know the victim?”

She wiped a shaky hand over her brow, struggling to keep her voice steady. “No. I mean, we went to the same school. We had some classes together. I wanted to come pay my respects.”

“Is that all?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as if searching for the lie among her features.

“Pardon?”

“It’s tragic, isn’t it?” he continued, ignoring her question. “How easily a young life can be lost. How suddenly.”

“What are you getting at, Detective?”

“Just that it’s unusual.” He shrugged. “How you and your friends keep finding yourselves at the center of these tragedies. It’s like death is following you around.”

“What are you implying?” she managed, her voice firmer now.

McCall’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe, or suspicion. “Nothing, really. Just an observation. But it does make you wonder, doesn’t it? Why do these things keep happening?”

“Are you saying you think we’re involved?” Lilia shot back.

McCall tilted his head slightly, studying her. “I’m not saying anything, Ms. Chen. Just pointing out that it’s quite a coincidence, isn’t it? All these funerals, all these connections. It’s enough to make anyone curious.”

She felt the blood drain from her face, her grip tightening around the handkerchief. “We’re just trying to cope with what’s happening. The same as everyone else. That’s all.”

“Of course,” McCall said smoothly, though the look in his eye suggested otherwise. “But you can’t blame a detective for being thorough, can you? It’s my job to ask questions.”

Before Lilia could respond, Sebastian’s voice broke through the tension. “Lilia,” he called from the top of the steps, his tone protective, almost demanding.

McCall straightened, giving her a polite if somewhat knowing smile. “You have a good rest of your day, Ms. Chen.”

She nodded numbly, watching as he turned and walked away, his presence leaving her feeling cold and exposed. Sebastian reached her side in a few quick strides, his hand finding the small of her back she guided her further away from the church.

“What did he want?” Sebastian asked, slowly.

“Just asking questions,” she replied, her voice hollow.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with concern. “We need to be more careful.”

“I know,” she whispered, her gaze drifting back to the church where the funeral continued, unaware of the storm brewing just outside its doors. “I know.”