Page 60 of Sadist

The casket had started moving again, but there was a flurry of movement on one side of the hall, and I watched in fascination as the casket was lowered onto its plinth, and a group of people came up to inspect it.

Someone stood up and waved as another man grabbed the side of the casket.

Was he trying to open it?

My heart picked up as he was pulled away by another, a few people in the waiting crowd standing up to get a better look.

“Ma’am, your passport and boarding pass?”

I jumped, realizing I was at the front of the queue with an unimpressed flight attendant holding her hand out to me. Mumbling an apology, I handed both over, not looking as she scanned it and waved me through.

Someone had grabbed the casket lid, and the camera had switched angles to one of the paparazzi who had shouldered their way through the gathering people, and it was then that I saw what had upset the pallbearer.

A thin line of scarlet was slowly dripping down the side of the coffin.

Fresh blood.

The body inside that casket was nothing more than ash and bone fragments. I had seen the autopsy when I hacked into the morgue database and found it. There was barely anything left.

So why thefuckwas there fresh blood running down the casket?

The camera panned out to a wide-angle shot as official-looking people began ushering the gathered mourners out.

Someone behind me gave a frustrated huff and pushed past, and I realized I had halted in the narrow hall that led to the plane. I stepped to the side, pausing against the wall, only to look back down and see that the live stream had ended.

“No!” I clicked through all the links I could find, seeing they had ended at the same time, scrolling further down until I caught one. It looked like it was through one of the attendees’ cell phones. A young woman spoke to the camera as people bustled through the cathedral behind her.

I clicked into it, my eyes scanning the comments that were popping up under the video.

Was that blood?

Yo, what happened? Why is the live feed down?

Flip the camera, show us what’s going on.

The girl had her hand over her mouth. “Guys, there’s something going on with Octavia’s coffin. Someone just opened it!”

Show us!

Can you get in closer?

A man appeared by her shoulder, and the camera blacked out for a moment as he tried to take her phone. There was a scuffle, and then it flicked back on, bouncing as she appeared to be running down the aisle toward the now open coffin.

I hit screen record on my phone as the picture swung wildly back and forth, unable to make out much more than a blur.

“Ma’am, you need to make your way to the plane.”

I looked up to see the same, unimpressed flight attendant gesturing me on, but I hung back, anxiety squeezing my chest.

“I just need a minute.”

“Is there a problem?”

She was looking too closely at me, and I shook my head, turning away from her and slowly walking toward the back of the line of people waiting to board.

I glanced back at the live stream, swearing as I saw the girl had been escorted out of the building, and hit end on the recording, clicking into my gallery and bringing up the video. I took it back, frame by frame. Most of it was just a blur of people and white roses until I reached the point she had made it through a knot of people, holding her phone high to show a bird’s eye view.

My father’s body was in the casket.

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