Chương 3
Breath.
A living breath.
Mina pressed the heel of her clean hand against her mouth.
Daniel made a sound that was almost a laugh and almost a sob.
“Evelyn.”
Her eyelids did not move.
The second paramedic opened a portable oxygen kit.
“Do we know what she was given before death was pronounced?”
Daniel looked blank.
Mina looked at Thomas.
Thomas had gone rigid.
The paramedic repeated himself.
“Medications, sedatives, painkillers, anything like that.”
“She was in the hospital,” Daniel said.
“She had prescriptions.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know all of them.”
Mina stood.
Her injured knee protested sharply.
“She took clonazepam sometimes.”
Everyone nearest her looked over.
Daniel frowned.
“How do you know that?”
“I set out her nighttime tea.”
“You gave her medication?”
“No.”
Mina’s voice hardened.
“She kept it in the drawer beside the pantry.”
Thomas’s eyes flicked toward her and away.
The gesture was so quick that Mina almost missed it.
Almost.
The paramedic asked, “Anything else?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She had migraines.”
“Medication for those?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Thomas finally spoke.
“Sumatriptan.”
The paramedic looked at him.
“And you are?”
“Her brother-in-law.”
“You know her prescriptions?”
Thomas hesitated.
“She mentioned them.”
Mina stared at him.
Evelyn had hated discussing medication.
She once refused to tell Daniel she was taking antibiotics because she did not want him hovering over her every time she coughed.
Thomas knowing the name did not prove anything.
It still landed badly.
The stretcher came through the doors with two more emergency workers.
The room became practical in an instant.
Metal legs unfolded.
Straps were checked.
A monitor appeared.
One responder cut through part of Evelyn’s dress near the collarbone.
Daniel flinched at the sound of fabric tearing.
“Careful.”
No one answered him.
Mina moved out of the way and found herself standing beside the overturned floral arrangement.
Water had spread beneath the lilies and darkened the edge of one mourner’s black dress.
The woman stared down at it as though uncertain whether she was allowed to care.
A phone rang somewhere in the back.
Nobody picked it up.
The paramedic attached leads to Evelyn’s chest.
“Heart rate thirty-eight.”
“Pressure?”
“Seventy-six over forty.”
“Let’s move.”
Daniel stepped forward again.
The police officer caught him this time.
“Sir.”
“I’m going with her.”
“You probably can, but not until they get her out.”
“Probably?”
“Talk to them once they’re moving.”
Daniel looked at Mina.
It was the first time since the coffin opened that he seemed to remember she existed.
“You heard her.”
Mina nodded.
He stared at her injured hand.
Then he looked at the axe.
Something complicated passed over his face.
“If you hadn’t—”
He stopped.
Mina did not help him finish.
Neither of them was ready for gratitude.
Thomas came closer.
His cheek was swelling.
“Daniel, we need to be careful about what we say.”
Daniel turned toward him.
“What?”
“There are people recording.”
Daniel stared at him for two full seconds.
Then he looked around the room.
Several phones were visible.
One woman quickly lowered hers.
A man near the rear doors did not.
“My wife was almost buried alive,” Daniel said.
His voice was quiet.
Thomas lowered his own.
“We don’t know that.”
Daniel laughed once.
It had no humor in it.
“She was in a coffin.”
“She had been pronounced dead.”
“And she was breathing.”
“Barely.”
Daniel stepped toward his brother.
The officer moved between them.
Thomas raised both palms.
“I’m saying we need facts.”
“You want facts?”
“Yes.”
“Here’s one.”
Daniel pointed at the broken coffin.
“She knocked from inside that box.”
Murmurs passed through the mourners.
Thomas’s mouth tightened.
“You’re upset.”
“Don’t.”
“Daniel.”
“Do not tell me what I am.”
The emergency workers lifted Evelyn onto the stretcher.
Her arm slipped several inches before one responder caught it and tucked it safely against her side.
Mina saw the gold wedding band on her finger.
The sight hurt more than Evelyn’s pale face.
Three days earlier, Mina had cleaned that ring with a soft cloth because Daniel had wanted it on Evelyn for the viewing.
He had stood at the kitchen island holding it as if it weighed a pound.
“She always loses this thing,” he had said.
His voice had broken on the last word.
Mina had looked away to give him privacy.
Now the ring moved past her with Evelyn’s living hand.
Daniel followed the stretcher.
At the doorway, one of the paramedics stopped him.
“You can ride with us if you stay out of the way.”
“Yes.”
“Any medical power of attorney issues?”
“I’m her husband.”
“I understand.”
Daniel climbed into motion immediately.
Then he stopped and looked back.
“Mina.”
She looked up.
“Come.”
Thomas said, “Absolutely not.”
Daniel did not even glance at him.
“Mina, come with us.”
The paramedic shook his head.
“One passenger.”
Daniel swore under his breath.
He looked trapped by the simplest logistical fact.
Mina said, “Go.”
He hesitated.
“Go with her.”
That decided it.
Daniel disappeared through the doors.
The stretcher wheels rattled down the corridor.
Within seconds, the funeral room felt too large.
The mourners began talking all at once.
Some were angry.
Some were crying.
Some seemed energized by the horror of having witnessed something they would tell people about for the rest of their lives.
The officer ordered everyone to remain available for statements.
Nobody liked that.
Thomas stepped toward Mina.
“We need to talk.”
“No.”
His eyes hardened.
“This is not the time to be dramatic.”
Mina looked at the axe on the floor.
“I think we passed dramatic.”
A man nearby made a startled sound that might have been a laugh.
Thomas glanced toward him.
The man looked away.
“Mina.”
She picked up a clean linen napkin from the refreshments table and wrapped it around her thumb.
“What?”
“What exactly did you hear before you broke the coffin?”
“You were here.”
“Before.”
“Three knocks.”
“When?”
“During the music.”
“How long before you struck it?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
“Five minutes?”
“I don’t know.”
