He had been collecting details.
The memorial was scheduled six days after the fall.
Doctors objected when I asked to watch it, but the investigator arranged a secure video feed from inside the chapel.
I remained in my hospital room with my leg elevated, my ribs bound, and a monitor strapped across my belly.
The casket was closed because Michael claimed the condition of my body would be too traumatic for the family to see.
There was no body inside.
He filled the chapel with white flowers and placed a photograph of me beside the casket.
In it, I was wearing the three-carat ring he had taken before pushing me.
Michael stood in the front row wearing the black coat I had bought him the previous winter.
He did not cry.
Ashley sat two seats behind him, dressed in black, her face arranged into a careful expression of grief.
Whenever someone embraced Michael, she lowered her eyes.
Whenever the person walked away, she looked directly at him.
They thought no one noticed.
The camera noticed.
So did I.
During the service, Michael spoke about my supposed fear of the mountain.
He described reaching for me as I slipped.
His voice broke in the correct places, but no tears came.
“She was carrying our son,” he said.
“I will spend the rest of my life wishing I could have saved them.”
My baby kicked beneath the monitor.
I placed my hand over him.
“He tried to kill you,” I whispered.
“But he doesn’t get to mourn you.”
After the final guests left, Michael remained beside the casket.
Ashley stood near the chapel door, watching the hallway.
Michael’s performance vanished.
He touched the polished lid and muttered, “They froze to death.
That useless woman got exactly what she deserved.”
The words reached the hidden microphone clearly.
Ashley approached him.
“Keep your voice down.”
“No one’s here.”
“What about the ring?” she asked.
Michael patted his coat pocket.
“Safe.”
My hand curled against the hospital blanket.
The investigator beside me leaned toward his radio.
“Move in.”
The chapel doors opened.
Two officers entered from the hallway while another stepped through a side door behind the altar.
Ashley froze.
Michael’s hand remained inside his coat pocket.
“What is this?” he demanded.
One officer told him to remove his hand slowly.
Michael looked toward Ashley, and that single glance exposed the alliance both of them had spent days denying.
He withdrew his hand.
My wedding ring lay in his palm.
He immediately changed his story.
He claimed he had found the ring near the cliff after I fell.
When reminded that he had told investigators he never reached the edge, he said he had been confused by grief.
Ashley began backing toward the door.
An officer blocked her path.
The investigator allowed me to hear the questioning through the secure feed.
Michael insisted the predator lure was for a future hunting trip.
