Chapter 2
1205 Words
The Flowers He Hated
The cemetery should have been empty.
Instead, Elena found flowers. Again. She stopped halfway down the path and stared at the collection surrounding Ronan's grave.
Lilies. Roses. Wildflowers.
Someone had even left a wreath.
A wreath.
Who brought a wreath to a cemetery in the middle of July?
She sighed.
"You're attracting attention from beyond the grave."
The breeze stirred the flowers. Not a single one looked like something Ronan would have chosen. If anything, he would have complained about all of them. Especially the lilies. The thought made her smile despite herself. For a moment. Just a moment. Then the smile faded. Because memories were cruel that way. They arrived looking like gifts and left feeling like wounds.
Elena stepped closer to the grave. The flowers looked fresh. Meaning someone had probably visited that morning. Maybe several people. It still surprised her sometimes about how many people loved him.
Not the dramatic kind of love written in books.
The quiet kind. The kind built over years.
Neighbors.
Friends.
Pack—
No.
Not pack.
She corrected herself automatically.
Community.
Family friends.
People who still stopped her in grocery stores to tell her stories about Ronan. Stories she had already heard a hundred times. Stories she never asked for. Stories she secretly treasured.
She knelt and began removing the flowers. One by one. Carefully. She never threw them away. That felt disrespectful.
Instead, she placed them beside the nearby memorial bench. Someone else would appreciate them. Someone who wasn't Ronan. Because Ronan hated flowers.
Especially lilies.
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
The memory arrived immediately.
"Why are there so many flowers at funerals?"
"Because people bring them."
"But why?"
"Because it's tradition."
"Tradition is stupid."
"That's your argument?"
"I'm just saying if I die, don't waste money on flowers."
"Good thing you're impossible to kill."
The memory ended there. Abruptly. Like they always did. The unfinished future hanging between them.
Elena swallowed hard. The laughter disappeared. A shadow crossed the grass.
"Afternoon, Elena."
She looked up.
Sheriff Thomas Walker stood several feet away. Hat tucked beneath one arm. Weathered face lined with concern. He looked exactly the same as he had every time she'd seen him for the past year.
Tired. Careful. Guilty.
The guilt wasn't his fault. But it was there.
The sheriff had been the one who knocked on her door. The one who told her Ronan was gone. The one who stood beside her while her entire world collapsed.
"Afternoon, Sheriff."
He nodded toward the flowers.
"People still stop by."
"I noticed."
A moment of silence stretched between them. The sheriff shifted his weight.
Uncomfortable.
Elena knew that look. Everyone in town wore it around her. The expression of people trying to decide whether grief should be acknowledged or ignored. Neither option ever felt right.
"You heard that howl last night?" he asked suddenly.
Her stomach tightened.
The howl.
The sound she'd heard yesterday. The sound she'd heard a year ago.
"I heard something."
The sheriff glanced toward the forest. The tree line seemed darker today. More distant.
"Some folks still think those woods are cursed."
Elena raised an eyebrow.
"Since when do you believe in local ghost stories?"
"I don't."
His answer came too quickly. Then he sighed.
"But I've worked in this town for a long time."
He looked back toward the trees.
"Sometimes people hear things they can't explain."
The words lingered.
Strange. Unsettling.
Before Elena could respond, he reached into a folder tucked beneath his arm. Immediately, her pulse quickened. She recognized the paperwork. Official documents. Government forms. Final notices. Closure.
The sheriff held out a sealed envelope.
"I stopped by your house this morning."
She didn't take it.
Not yet.
Because she already knew. Somehow. She knew exactly what was inside.
The sheriff's expression softened.
"Elena..."
She hated that tone. The one people used when they thought they were helping. Slowly, she accepted the envelope. The paper felt heavier than it should.
"What's this?"
Neither of them pretended not to know.
"The final determination."
Her fingers tightened around the envelope.
"No."
The sheriff exhaled quietly.
"The investigation is over."
The words hit harder than she expected. Not because she was surprised. Because she wasn't. She'd known this was coming. Everyone else had moved on months ago. The town had accepted the official story. The state had accepted the official story. The police had accepted the official story.
Only Elena remained.
Still standing in the ruins. Still asking questions. Still refusing to let go.
"Animal attack," she said flatly.
The sheriff's jaw tightened.
"That's the conclusion."
"Dog attack."
"Elena—"
"A dog attack killed a six-foot-four man?"
The words came sharper than she intended. The sheriff didn't flinch. Maybe because he'd heard the argument before. Many times.
"It wasn't a dog."
"Then what was it?"
Silence.
The same silence she always received. The same silence that had haunted her for a year. Nobody knew. Or nobody would say. The sheriff rubbed the back of his neck.
"The evidence is what it is."
"No."
Elena looked toward the forest. Toward the place where Ronan had died.
"Something happened out there."
The sheriff didn't answer. Because he couldn't. Because there was no answer. That was the problem. The report explained nothing. It never had.
She stared at the envelope. A final determination. Case closed. End of story.
Except it wasn't.
Not for her.
Not yet.
The wind moved through the trees. Soft. Whispering. Almost like a warning. The sheriff placed a hand on her shoulder.
Brief. Gentle.
"I'm sorry."
The apology sounded genuine. It always did. But apologies couldn't bring people back. And they couldn't create answers where none existed.
Elena nodded once. Not trusting herself to speak. The sheriff hesitated. Then finally turned and walked away. She watched him disappear down the path.
Alone once more. The envelope remained in her hands.
Heavy. Waiting.
The cemetery had fallen silent again. Only the wind remained. And the distant forest.
Slowly, Elena broke the seal. She unfolded the papers. The official report stared back at her.
Cold. Clinical. Final.
Cause of death: Animal attack.
Case status: Closed.
Her eyes moved lower. Scanning. Searching. Looking for something. Anything. A reason. An explanation. The truth.
Instead, she found the same empty answers she'd been reading for twelve months. The same contradictions. The same missing details. The same impossible conclusions.
Her frustration flared. Then stopped. Because something caught her attention.
A gap.
Tiny. Easy to miss. But there.
Her eyes narrowed. The page numbers.
One.
Two.
Three.
Five.
Elena froze. She turned the report over. Checked again. Then again.
Page four was missing.
Not lost. Not misplaced.
Missing. Removed. Deliberately.
Her heartbeat quickened.
Slowly. Steadily.
The grief that had filled her chest for a year shifted. Making room for something else. Something dangerous. Something relentless.
Suspicion.
Elena looked toward the forest. The trees stood motionless beneath the fading sunlight.
Watching. Waiting. Keeping their secrets. For now.
She folded the report carefully. Very carefully. Then slipped it into her bag. Because for the first time in months—she finally had something new.
A clue.
And whoever removed page four clearly hadn't wanted her to find it.
- Writer
