But Detective Miller had already closed the distance.
Chapter 4: The Voice from the Void
The scuffle was brutally brief.
Evan, fueled by pure, unadulterated panic, collided with the lectern, sending the arrangement of white lilies crashing to the marble floor in an explosion of petals and stagnant water. But before his fingers could grasp the small black flash drive, Detective Miller’s heavy hand clamped down on his tailored shoulder, violently spinning him around.
“Back away from the altar, Mr. Vale,” Detective Miller barked, his voice a gravelly command that cut through the sudden screams of the congregation.
Evan threw a wild, uncoordinated punch, but the detective smoothly dodged it, sweeping Evan’s legs out from under him and driving him hard into the stone floor. The sickening thud of expensive bone meeting ancient rock echoed through the nave. In seconds, Miller had Evan’s arms pinned behind his back, the sharp clack-clack of steel handcuffs snapping shut.
Celeste was backed against a pew, her hands covering her mouth, her eyes wide with a feral, trapped terror. She looked toward the heavy oak doors, calculating her escape, but two uniformed officers had already stepped inside, blocking the exit.
“Play it, Arthur,” I commanded, ignoring the gasps and frantic murmurs of the crowd.
Mr. Halden pressed a button on the control panel.
For a moment, there was only the soft, ambient hiss of digital static washing over the speakers. And then, a sound that made my knees threaten to buckle.
“Evan, please… I can’t breathe.”
It was Emma. Her voice was weak, raspy, terrified. The acoustics of the cathedral amplified her suffering, forcing every single person in the room to bathe in it.
“Stop being so dramatic, Emma,” Evan’s voice replied through the speakers, cold, detached, and utterly monstrous. “You’re hysterical again. It’s just the tea. Drink it.”
“It burns… the tea burns, Evan. What did you put in it? What did she give you?”
“Celeste knows a botanist,” Evan’s recorded voice laughed—that same rich, throaty laugh that had cut through the hymn just twenty minutes ago. “It’s natural. It’s supposed to calm your nerves. If it happens to induce a miscarriage, well… the doctors already think you’re a danger to yourself. Who are they going to believe? The brilliant CEO, or the crazy woman crying in the dark?”
