Chapter 4

The funeral was a pathetic affair.

A few neighbors, the pastor looking somber, two cheap caskets at the front of the tiny church.

Earl and Sue-Ellen's caskets.

I played the part of the grieving daughter, tears streaming on cue.

Billy-Joe, just a kid in this timeline, looked confused and scared. I felt a flicker of something, then crushed it. He was their son.

After everyone left, I went to the graveyard.

The fresh mounds of dirt looked wrong under the gray Appalachian sky.

I had a shovel I' d taken from our shed.

It didn' t take long. The dirt was loose.

The caskets were light. Too light.

I pried one open.

Sandbags and rocks.

Just as I expected.

I pulled out my cheap flip phone and dialed the pastor.

My voice was high, hysterical. "Pastor Michaels! You have to come! It's horrible!"

"Maya? What's wrong, child?"

"The caskets! They're empty! There's just... rocks! The mining company, they lied! My parents aren't in there!"

I could almost hear him pale through the phone.

He knew. He had to be in on it. The fake death certificates, the quick burial.

"Now, Maya, calm down..."

"Calm down? My parents are missing! Or... or the company did something terrible! We need to call the state police! The news!"

I let out a sob, a performance worthy of an Oscar.

He arrived within minutes, his face ashen.

He saw the open casket, the sandbags.

"This is... a terrible mistake," he stammered.

"A mistake?" I shrieked. "This is fraud! Negligence! I want answers, Pastor! Or I'm going to every newspaper in West Virginia!"

He looked terrified. Perfect.

The first crack in their perfect lie.