Chapter 1 - The chapel was so quiet that I could hear the soft click of my daughter’s shoes against the polished floor.Madison was seven years old.
Seven.
Too young to understand why everyone was dressed in black.
Too young to understand why her father was lying inside a white-lined coffin.
And far too young to understand why there were fifty people sitting behind her, staring at her as if they expected her to fall apart.
I stood beside her, gripping her small hand.
“Mommy,” she whispered.
I bent down.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“Daddy looks like he’s sleeping.”
My throat tightened.
He did.
Daniel looked exactly like himself.
Gray suit.
White shirt.
Wedding ring.
His dark hair combed neatly away from his forehead.
Even the tiny scar above his right eyebrow was there.
Everything about him looked normal.
Except he was dead.
At least, that was what three doctors had told me.
Daniel had supposedly suffered a massive cardiac arrest two nights earlier while driving home.
His SUV had crashed into a barrier on the interstate.
Paramedics had arrived within minutes.
He had no pulse.
No response.
No chance.
That was the story everyone had been given.
That was the story I had repeated until I almost believed it.
But Madison didn’t look convinced.
She stared at her father through the glass partition.
Then she pulled her hand free from mine.
“Madison.”
She walked toward the coffin.
“Sweetheart, don't.”
She kept walking.
People turned in their seats.
Someone whispered.
Her grandmother covered her mouth.
Madison reached the coffin and stared at Daniel for several seconds.
Then she did something that made the entire chapel freeze.
She lifted one leg over the edge.
“Madison!”
She climbed inside.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I rushed toward her.
“Get out!”
She ignored me.
She crawled beside Daniel and wrapped both arms around his body.
Her face pressed against his chest.
She began crying.
Not loudly.
Not hysterically.
Just small, broken sobs.
Then I heard her whisper.
“He doesn't want me to be scared.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Madison lifted her face.
“He told me.”
My stomach twisted.
“Who told you?”
She pointed at Daniel.
I wanted to tell myself she was confused.
A child processing grief.
An imaginary conversation.
Anything.
Then she placed both hands on his chest.
Her expression changed.
“Mommy…”
Her voice trembled.
“He's still warm.”
Every sound in the chapel disappeared.
My mother-in-law stood up.
A minister took one step forward.
Someone dropped a purse.
I stared at my husband's face.
Warm?
Impossible.
A body could remain warm for a while after death.
Couldn't it?
My mind searched desperately for an explanation.
Then Madison screamed.
“Daddy!”
His fingers moved.
Once.
Tiny.
Barely visible.
I gasped.
Then they moved again.
The minister stumbled backward.
My mother-in-law screamed.
Someone shouted for an ambulance.
I grabbed Madison and tried pulling her away.
But suddenly Daniel's hand lifted.
Slowly.
Painfully.
His fingers trembled in the air.
Then they touched Madison's hair.
A brush.
One weak stroke.
Madison stopped crying.
“Daddy?”
Daniel's eyelids fluttered.
The room erupted.
People screamed.
Phones appeared.
Chairs scraped against the floor.
I couldn't breathe.
Because my dead husband was opening his eyes.
His lips parted.
A faint sound escaped.
“Renee…”
My knees almost gave out.
“Daniel?”
His eyes moved toward me.
There was fear in them.
Not confusion.
Fear.
His fingers tightened around Madison's hair.
Then he whispered four words.
“Don't trust my brother.”
My blood went cold.
Daniel's eyes rolled back.
The ambulance crew burst through the doors.
And before they could lift him from the coffin, his heart monitor flatlined again.
But this time...
I knew something was very wrong.
Because Daniel wasn't supposed to wake up.
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And he had just told me exactly who to fear.
His brother.
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