Chapter 4 - Six Feet of Lies
The cemetery was closed to the public before noon.
Roman arrived with two attorneys, a medical examiner, and private security.
Sophia remained at the brownstone with Davis.
Roman had resisted leaving her.
Sophia had insisted.
“If there’s a body in that coffin, I need you to know whose it is.”
Roman stood beneath a gray Chicago sky as machinery lifted the casket.
Eleven years earlier, he had watched it go down.
Now he watched it rise.
The medical examiner opened the outer seal.
Roman smelled damp earth and old wood.
He forced himself not to look away.
The remains inside were incomplete but identifiable through dental records and DNA.
A sample was collected.
Roman expected to wait hours.
Instead, the medical examiner approached him twenty minutes later.
“There’s an issue.”
“What kind?”
“The dental reconstruction doesn’t match Vincent Callaway’s original dental chart.”
Roman felt his jaw tighten.
“Then who is it?”
“We need DNA confirmation.”
Roman looked at the coffin.
For eleven years, his mother had visited that grave every Sunday.
For eleven years, Roman had spoken to a stranger beneath the ground.
His phone rang.
Sophia.
He answered immediately.
“Roman.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“What happened?”
“Someone is inside the house.”
Roman turned sharply.
“Where is Davis?”
“I don’t know.”
Roman motioned to his security chief and started walking.
“Take Gabriel and go into the bathroom.”
“Lock the door.”
Sophia whispered.
“They already tried the bedroom handle.”
Roman moved faster.
“Listen to me.”
“There’s a panel behind the mirror.”
“Push the lower left corner.”
“I see it.”
“It opens into the old servant passage.”
“Take Gabriel and get inside.”
A sound came through the phone.
Wood splintering.
Sophia gasped.
Roman heard Gabriel begin to cry.
“Sophia.”
“Go.”
The line went silent.
Roman called Davis.
No answer.
Then he called the brownstone’s hidden alarm.
No signal.
Someone had cut the system.
Roman entered his SUV.
“Drive.”
The cemetery disappeared behind them.
Ten minutes into the trip, his phone rang again.
Unknown number.
Roman answered.
Silas spoke.
“You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”
“If you touch her—”
“I don’t want the woman.”
“I want what she gave birth to.”
Roman’s hand tightened around the phone.
“He has a name.”
Silas laughed.
“Sentiment.”
“Your father suffered from it too.”
Roman’s voice went cold.
“Who is in Vincent’s grave?”
For the first time, Silas paused.
Then he said something Roman did not expect.
“Ask your brother.”
The call ended.
Roman reached the brownstone thirteen minutes later.
The front door was open.
Furniture had been overturned.
A broken lamp lay in the hallway.
Roman drew his weapon and entered.
“Davis.”
No response.
He climbed the stairs.
The bedroom was empty.
The mirror panel stood open.
Blood stained the edge of the frame.
Roman entered the narrow passage.
“Sophia.”
A whisper came from the darkness.
“Here.”
Roman found her at the bottom of a concealed staircase.
Gabriel was pressed against her chest.
Sophia was shaking but unharmed.
Davis was sitting beside them, holding a handkerchief against a cut above his eyebrow.
“They came through the kitchen,” he said.
“Three men.”
“I got her into the passage before they reached the bedroom.”
Roman looked at him.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?”
“One of them smashed it.”
Roman helped Davis stand.
Sophia looked at Roman.
“The grave?”
Roman was quiet.
Then his phone vibrated.
The medical examiner had sent a preliminary identity match.
Roman opened it.
The remains belonged to Jonah Vale.
Vincent’s best friend.
Sophia stared at the name.
Roman remembered his mother’s letter.
His father’s burned suit.
Silas identifying the body.
And a friend who had supposedly left the country.
The truth was no longer that Vincent had survived an accident.
The truth was worse.
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Someone had put Jonah Vale’s body in Vincent’s coffin.
And the entire Callaway family had spent eleven years protecting the lie.
