Chapter 9 - The Broken Patriarch
Julian didn't turn his back completely, keeping his weapon leveled at Evelyn while his peripheral vision swept the darkness of the cemetery path.
Emerging from the shadow of a colossal weeping willow was a frail, hunched figure in a soaked wool overcoat. Arthur Blackwood shuffled slowly across the wet gravel, his bare feet caked in mud, his long white beard plastered against his chest by the rain.
In his trembling hands, Arthur held an old double-barreled hunting shotgun.
"Dad?" Julian whispered, his heart sinking into a bottomless pit. "Dad, don't do this. She poisoned you. She’s been slipping thallium into your food for months to take your voting shares."
Arthur didn't answer. His watery blue eyes were unfocused, staring blankly ahead. He raised the twin barrels, not toward Evelyn, but straight toward Julian.
"He doesn't hear you, Julian," Evelyn purred, stepping smoothly behind her husband’s trembling shoulder. She rested her slender, manicured hand on Arthur’s back, whispering into his ear like a serpent. "Tell him, Arthur. Tell our son what happens to those who betray the family name."
Arthur’s mouth moved, his lips dry and cracked. "Julian... the... the family must... endure..."
"She's using you, Dad!" Julian pleaded, taking a cautious step back down the mausoleum steps. "Clara is in that box! Your granddaughter is out there in the woods alone! Look at what she made you do!"
The two laborers inside the crypt took advantage of the standoff, dragging Clara’s white casket deeper into the stone vault. Julian heard the scrape of stone against stone as they prepared to seal the inner burial niche.
"Drop the gun, Julian," Evelyn commanded softly. "Drop it, or your father will pull both triggers. His mind is gone. He won't even remember doing it. The authorities will simply call it an accidental tragedy of a senile old man."
Julian looked into his father’s eyes. Behind the milky, dementia-addled haze caused by months of heavy metal poisoning, Julian saw a tiny flicker of awareness—a spark of profound, agonizing torment. Arthur’s hands were shaking violently, the heavy walnut stock vibrating against his sunken cheek.
"Dad..." Julian lowered the pistol slightly. "You pointed at her. In the foyer, before the fire. You pointed at Evelyn. You knew what she did."
Arthur blinked. A tear slipped down his weathered cheek, cutting through the dirt on his skin.
"Evelyn..." Arthur rasped, his voice barely audible over the rain.
"Shut up, Arthur, and shoot him!" Evelyn hissed, her mask slipping into raw desperation. "Shoot him now!"
Arthur’s finger tightened on the trigger.
Julian braced for the impact, preparing to dive toward the open grass.
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A loud crack shattered the cemetery air, but it didn't come from Arthur's shotgun.
Across the dark tree line, a bright red laser dot appeared on Arthur's chest, followed instantly by another dot that landed squarely between Evelyn’s eyes.
