Whispers of Deception

Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

T he church loomed ahead, its tall steeple piercing the cold autumn sky. Gray clouds swirled above like a gathering storm, the wind whipping through the streets with a bone-chilling bite. Lilia stood with Augustus, Delilah, and Sebastian near the edge of the crowd, their faces pale and unreadable as they watched the chaos unfold from a distance.

What was supposed to be a somber occasion had turned into a spectacle. A wave of anger, confusion, and unresolved pain churned through the gathered crowd, creating an almost suffocating atmosphere.

Outside the church, protesters swarmed like vultures circling the dead. Some held signs that read “Murderer!” and “Justice for Willow!” while others screamed obscenities, their voices growing hoarse from hours of shouting. The low hum of news cameras and reporters buzzing nearby made it impossible to ignore the media presence, with podcasters and journalists trying to capture every inch of the chaos for their listeners and viewers. Microphones were thrust into faces, people were interviewed whether they wanted to be or not, and the air reeked of sensationalism.

Lilia took a step back, the heavy presence of it all sinking into her bones. Augustus stood rigid beside her, his jaw clenched tightly, eyes locked on the church doors, his face unreadable. Sebastian pulled his beanie lower over his eyes, trying to shield himself from the flashes of cameras that occasionally caught the light. Delilah shifted uncomfortably, tugging at the sleeves of her oversized sweater, her face tight with anxiety.

They were far enough from the church to avoid being drawn into the circus, but close enough to witness it all. Lilia could hear the screams, the chants, the blaring horns of the occasional car driving by, caught up in the fervor of the crowd.

“You’d think he killed half the town,” Sebastian muttered under his breath, casting a nervous glance toward the protesters.

“They’re angry,” Delilah whispered. “Angry and scared. They want someone to blame.”

“Murderer!” A voice rose above the others, shrill and piercing. A woman shoved her way through the crowd, her face flushed with rage as she held a sign that read, “Burn in Hell, McCall!”

Lilia flinched at the sight of it, feeling a lump form in her throat. It wasn’t that she felt any sympathy for McCall—he’d done monstrous things, that much was clear—but seeing his name dragged through the mud like this, even in death, stirred something in her. He had been a person once, with a life, a family. Now, all of that was reduced to a single word: murderer.

“I can’t believe they’re letting this happen,” Delilah said, her voice tight with frustration.

Augustus shifted, crossing his arms over his chest. “The police can’t do anything about it. Not now. Not with everything that’s come out.”

Lilia bit her lip, her gaze drifting toward the church. She could see McCall’s family gathered near the entrance, trying to shield themselves from the crowd with the help of a few officers. His wife, red-eyed and clutching her son’s hand, looked like she was on the verge of breaking down. It was a stark contrast to the angry mob just a few feet away.

She felt a pang of guilt watching them. What must it be like to lose someone so publicly, to have the entire world pick apart your grief as if it were a tabloid headline? McCall had taken Willow’s life, but in the process, he’d also destroyed his own family. And now they were left to face the fallout.

“Do you think it’s true?” Sebastian asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the din. “That he killed Willow?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome. Lilia didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. She still didn’t know what to believe. McCall’s confession had seemed convenient, too well-timed. But there were those photos—grainy, damning—that made it harder to argue against his involvement.

“I don’t know,” Lilia whispered. “I really don’t.”

Delilah glanced at her, worry etched into her features. “It’s hard to believe he could do something like that. He was always so . . . by the book. I mean, he was a cop.”

Sebastian shook his head. “Cops aren’t saints, Delilah. You’ve seen how they can be. Just because he wore a badge doesn’t mean he couldn’t—” He stopped himself, glancing toward the reporters. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

The church doors opened then, and the funeral began in earnest. The McCall family, flanked by officers and pallbearers, slowly made their way inside. The protesters grew louder, their shouts rising to a fever pitch as the coffin was brought forward. Lilia watched, her heart heavy in her chest, as the casket was carried past the crowd. Some threw insults, others jeers. A woman held up a picture of Willow, her face tear-streaked and filled with rage.

“How could you?” she screamed, her voice shaking. “How could you kill her? She didn’t deserve this!”

Lilia felt the bile rise in her throat. She knew that grief all too well, that desperate need for answers, for justice. But standing here, on the outside looking in, she realized how little any of it actually mattered. McCall was dead. Willow was dead. And nothing they did now would change that.

Reporters scrambled for better angles as the family slipped inside the church, their voices a steady hum in the background. One man, his camera raised high, called out, “Do you think McCall acted alone? Or is there more to this?”

Lilia looked away, unable to stomach any more. The truth didn’t seem to matter to anyone anymore. Not when the story was more important than the people involved.

She took a deep breath, the cold air stinging her lungs, and turned to Augustus. “We should go.”

He nodded, his expression still hard, unreadable. “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

The four of them started to move away from the crowd, their footsteps soft against the cracked pavement. But as they walked, Lilia couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking away from something far bigger than just McCall’s funeral. There were still so many questions left unanswered, still so much they didn’t know.

And as the shouts of the protesters faded into the background, Lilia couldn’t help but wonder if the worst was still yet to come.