Chapter 7
Arthur backed away toward the heavy oak door of the vestry, his hand sliding behind his back to grope for the emergency latch. "You think this is a moral victory? Look around you. This chapel belongs to the trust. The police departments in this county have been funded by Vance Foundation grants for three generations. By sunset, you won't be heroes rescuing a victim. You'll be trespassers caught in a violent break-in."
Before Arthur’s fingers could find the latch, the heavy wood of the vestry door swung inward of its own accord. Two uniformed officers stepped out of the dim interior, their hands resting casually on the service weapons at their belts, followed closely by Detective Miller, a weathered man with sharp gray eyes and a heavy trench coat that smelled of rain.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Vance," Detective Miller said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. He held up a small plastic evidence bag containing a familiar glass vial with a bright red biohazard label. "We received an automated distress ping from Miss Vance’s subcutaneous medical monitor three hours ago. The GPS coordinates placed her inside this very building, though the coroner’s initial report listed her as deceased."
Arthur’s hand froze mid-motion. He stared at the vial in the detective's hand, his color draining entirely. "That's... that's a fabrication. The coroner cleared the burial."
"The coroner is currently being interviewed in the precinct parking lot," Miller replied, stepping past Arthur into the main nave. He looked at Clara wrapped in Julian’s coat, then down at the splintered white casket resting between the pews. "Miss Vance, are you currently under the influence of any chemical agents?"
"They gave me tetrodotoxin derivative," Clara said, her voice steady and clear. "Enough to suppress my heart rate for six hours without killing me outright. They intended for me to suffocate after the lid was sealed."
Miller nodded slowly, signaling to the two officers behind him. "Take Mr. Vance into custody. Read him his rights. And secure the vestry; I want every file, every ledger, and every digital drive confiscated under a federal warrant."
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As the officers moved in, stepping past the rows of wooden pews, Arthur didn't resist. He allowed the steel cuffs to be fastened around his wrists with an eerie, composed dignity, his dark eyes lingering on Clara for one long, calculating second before he was led down the central aisle toward the heavy doors.
Evelyn collapsed entirely onto the stone floor, her green velvet dress pooling around her like spilled moss, weeping softly into her gloved hands as the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, sealing their fate.
