Chapter 3 - An Unmarked Grave
The soil in Blackwood Cemetery was perpetually damp, choked by ancient oak roots and thick blankets of ivy that swallowed forgotten headstones. Under the cover of an unrelenting 3:00 AM storm, two men in rain ponchos shoveled heavy black dirt into a six-foot trench.
There was no service. There were no flowers, no mourners, and no headstone.
Marianne Sterling sat in the back of an idling town car forty yards away, the tinted window cracked just half an inch to let the damp smell of earth filter into the heated cabin. On the leather seat beside her, infant Leo slept soundly under the influence of a mild pediatric sedative.
Arthur Bradley climbed into the front passenger seat, shaking rainwater from his umbrella before pulling the heavy car door closed. ""The death certificate is signed by Dr. Vance. Cause of death: blunt force trauma secondary to an intentional fall during a documented postpartum psychotic break. The police report has been filed and closed without autopsy, courtesy of Commissioner Hayes.""
""And the phone?"" Marianne asked, her voice unaffected by the grim scene outside. ""The device she was holding when she fell?""
Bradley hesitated for a fraction of a second. ""The house staff cleared the hallway immediately. The floor was bleached. However... the phone wasn’t among her personal belongings when the cleaners finished.""
Marianne turned her head slowly, her gaze fixing on the back of Bradley's neck with the intensity of an executioner. ""What do you mean it wasn't there?""
""The paramedics might have bagged it with her clothing, or one of the low-level maids took it before realizing what it was,"" Bradley said quickly, sweating despite the chill. ""It hardly matters. The call never connected to 911. Her carrier records show no outgoing data packet.""
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""Find it,"" Marianne commanded, her tone dropping an octave. ""Every trace of that girl's existence must be erased. If that phone surfaces, you will take her place in that hole.""
Out in the rain, the two gravediggers heaved the final mound of sod over the burial plot, patting it down with the flat sides of their shovels. As they turned their backs and dragged their equipment toward their truck, deep beneath six feet of earth and rotting pine, a pair of bloodshot, terrified eyes snapped open in the pitch black.
