Chapter 6 - The Funeral ft. I Know What You Did Last Summer

June 1, 2018

The morning was bright and the grass wet with dew; reflecting the beaming rays of the sun. An ironic ensemble for Jessie's funeral.

The ruffle of lace against cotton and the light shuffle of footsteps were the only sounds made inside one part of the house. Indie was brushing her bright red hair away from her face, trying to get it into a neat bun. Her black, lace dress swishing softly against her knees as the breeze blew in from her open window.

Evergreen eyes stared back at her, a hollowness in its depths. A small frown marred her features, her thin lips pressed together. The bags under her eyes added the unpleasant touch of sleep deprivation. When was the last time I had properly rested?

Loud, heavy footfalls that could only belong to her father, echoed throughout the silent halls of their lonely home. John McAdams' tired head poked in, his face deep with lines and his wrinkles more prominent. His usual bright green eyes looked dull, with dark bags lining his eyes. He looked older than forty, a feature that could only be described as worrying. The case had taken a great toll on them both.

"Are you ready Red?" John stepped inside the bright room, a small tired smile on his lips.

Indie's eyes roamed over her father's features, worry pushing the hollowness back. While John looked dapper in his formal wear, the weight of the case was clearly wearing him down.

His shoulders were slumped, his gait like that of a limping man, his lines deeper and more pronounced; he didn't look like himself. It was as if it was a different person before her, and that worried her.

"Yeah, I just need to grab my purse dad. You can go on ahead to the car." She said, a small smile on her lips as she began to place her essentials inside her small purse.

Nodding, John walks out of the room, leaving Indie to her thoughts. Worry was starting to gnaw at her again as images of her father's tired face flashed through her mind.

The last time she had seen him this tired and weary was when - she shook her head, dismissing the thought. Nothing good ever came out with remembering the past.

Grabbing her purse, she finally heads out of her room and down to where her father was waiting by his car, an old Chevy. The bright 9:00 AM sun beat down on her as she crossed the lawn to where her father was standing.

It was too early for the sun to be high up in the sky, but not too early for it to be hot. She briefly wondered if it was because of summer's fast approach.

Seeing her approach, John went inside and started up the car, patiently waiting for his daughter. Slight pain and sorrow resurfaced at the thought of being blasted to the past again, its sharp claws slowly starting to take hold on him.

His eyes welled up subconsciously, his head slowly throbbing as he resisted the flood of memories that was sure to arise and drown him. Vanilla and honey.

***

The whole chapel was silent. Not a sound or a peep could be heard. The pristine white coffin stood at the center, a mere few feet away from the altar. Jessie's face was in full view to anyone who would gaze down at her, peacefully resting. A facade, her death was neither pleasant nor peaceful.

Emily sat beside Mrs. Raegan at the front most pew, eyes red and gazing at the coffin blankly. Beside her, Mrs. Raegan was dabbing at her eyes with a pink handkerchief, Jessie's gift to her for mother's day that year. Her last gift.

The tiny chapel was slowly starting to fill in with more people. Students, teachers, friends, and relatives slowly trickled in. Everyone was dressed in either black, white, or a combination of both. Mr. Raegan, however, was nowhere to be found.

This didn't escape Emily's notice, who found it very odd that Mr. Raegan wasn't with his grieving wife. Especially on the day they would be burying Jessie. Excusing herself, she went out and looked for Mr. Raegan. The funeral mass was starting and she knew Mrs. R needed her husband to be there for her, and not her daughter's best friend, even if she did appreciate it.

Emily found Jessie's father smoking outside by the chapel's bell tower, pacing and running his hand through his salt and pepper hair as he did so. He took in a drag as his eyes darted around nervously.

Emily found this to be a bit off. Jessie's father never smoked, at least from what she knew. Her eyes roaming, she took in Mr. Raegan who looked stressed and grief-ridden before landing on the ground, where stubs of cigarette littered the ground.

"Mr. Raegan?" She called out tentatively, smoothing her knee-length black dress.

Jumping slightly, Mr. Raegan looked around him nervously, his eyes red. Red from crying? Perhaps. His eyes finally landed on Emily.

"Oh, hey Emily." Nervousness coated his tone as he carelessly threw his unfinished stub to the ground. Crushing it with his heel.

Christoffer Raegan was the epitome of a prim and proper man. His trimmed salt and pepper hair was always gelled back. Right now, it was disheveled with the constant running of his hand through his hair. He quit smoking when he married Catherine, but sometimes picked it up back again when he was nervous or stressed.

"Mrs. R needs you inside, the mass is about to start." She informed him, rubbing her arm; feeling awkward. She didn't want to say funeral as it made it all real. Deep inside, Emily still couldn't accept the fact that her best friend was dead. She couldn't imagine the pain they felt though, which was sure to be 10 times worse than hers.

Christoffer nodded, heading inside. "Are you coming inside, Emily?" He asked, pausing in his step.

"I'll follow in a minute." She told him with a small smile, waving away what she perceived to be concern. Christoffer nodded, heading on inside.

Emily began to pace around the grounds before finally heading on inside to join. The loud screech of tires against pavement halted her in her step, panic slowly starting to rise in her as she tries to stomp it down. The sound of an engine being turned off served to distract her momentarily, her breathing heavy as she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart, she turns to see what caused the screech.

An old Chevy was parked across the street from where the chapel was located. It was the only car in the deserted street. No other car was passing by, as most of them were parked at the, now full, parking space reserved for them.

Emily stood there, gazing at the old, red, Chevy that now looked more like a dull maroon than bright red. Dried blood. It reminded her of dried blood. Her racing heart had since calmed down and her breathing was now even. She couldn't take her eyes of the car, however. And she stood there, waiting to see who would get out just so she could satiate her curiosity and finally head on inside.

The passenger door opened, a loud sort of metallic screech similar to that of rusty hinges filled the still air, and out came Indie in her little black dress. Emily frowned, a small sigh of relief escaping her before she headed on inside. She still had a funeral to attend.

Indie and her father entered the small chapel a few minutes after Emily went inside. Indie did see Emily as she stood outside earlier, but made no comment. It was likely Emily thought she didn't her due to the bright sunlight.

The whole chapel was bathed in white. Large white rose garlands flanked the casket on both sides with condolences written in bold cursive by close friends and family. Jessie's face was bathed in a halo of white light, her features looking soft and angelic.

Everyone was silent as they gazed ahead and listened to the sermon. The presided was talking about Jessie and the life she lived as if her knew her personally. There was little doubt about that, Jessie was known by all. Perhaps even loved.

"Jessie now rests in the hands of our Lord." His words were soft, but loud as if amplified by the somber silence of the crowd. Emily sat stoically between her mother and the Raegans. Her mind wasn't in the room, it was in a different world. One of screeching tires, loud screams and blaring sirens. A world of chaos and endless pain.

Indie and her father were both seated at the back most and last pew in the chapel. Both drifting in and out of conscious reality. Trapped in their own worlds of thought. Indie was filled with thoughts of loneliness, the hollowness making an appearance once again and leaving her unable to fill the void. John was trapped in memories of the past. Of vanilla and honey.

Mrs. Raegan was still crying, although the hysterical sobs had since subsided. Silent tears of sadness and pain flowed down her rosy cheeks, hands gripping that of her husband's tightly. The sweet scent of vanilla and honey wafted around them, calming Christoffer's rapidly pounding heart.

The ceremony ended with the presider's last promise: "You will never be forgotten". And forgotten she will never be. Her plain, white casket, was carried out and into the cemetery, her father and boyfriend taking the lead with her other close male relatives following. Emily assisted the grieving mother out of the chapel, her own mother following behind with the throngs of people who had joined them. The last to leave was Indie.

A freshly dug grave greeted them, the only brown in a sea of green grass and white, marbled stone. As soon as Jessie was laid down to rest, white roses and lilies were tossed in as her mother sobbed in pain. Emily tossed in her rose before going to stand beside the crying woman. Mr. Raegan hadn't shed a tear, but his eyes were red and his lips quivering from having to hold it in and appear strong. For my wife and daughter.

Indie was once again the last to toss in her flower; Baby's Breath. As she turned, her eyes met Catherine's ocean blue eyes filled with pain and sorrow. Indie looked away, and never once looked back.

Everyone dispersed as soon as flowers were tossed in and condolences were said. No one really stuck around for the final curtain call. After all, who would want to see a grave being filled with dirt? Especially on a hot day like this?

Emily and her mother stayed behind, as well as Indie and her father. As soon as the grave was filled, Indie and her father left, the former without saying her condolences. She reasoned that she was tired and the sun was getting to her. Her father agreed and let her go on ahead.

Emily stayed silent as Officer McAdams approached and said his condolences, her thoughts haunted once again by deeply buried memories from the past. A loud beep distracted her from her thoughts. A welcomed one at that. Excusing herself, she walks a bit farther and opens the message, believing it was from someone she knew. Boy, was she wrong.

Glancing the unknown number, her forehead crinkled in confusion, her heart starting to beat faster in worry as her palms started to sweat. Something about the number made her nervous as her stomach twisted in knots and dread filled her being.

Apprehensive and fearful, she opens the message, her eyes widening as her blood leaves her, fear and horror growing by the second at what she read.

From: Unregistered Number

Car tires screeching
Midnight crying
Sirens blaring
Death at 2
A hooded figure,
Collects his due
A boy named Andrew.

***

Author's Note:

Hey investigators! Sorry about the overdue update. I've been really busy with schoolwork. Online classes got me swamped! Anyways, here's another chapter for you to enjoy! I've added in more clues for you to solve mini mysteries while we search for our killer so you never get bored 😉😉.

There are so many clues here that you'd be stumped! Not to worry, it will all tie up in the end as we unravel the web of lies and catch our killer/s!

What did you think of the funeral scene? Was it too normal?
What's with this vanilla and honey? (I honestly am loving vanilla and brown sugar as scent 🙃😁😉)
Who's Andrew?

Once again, don't forget to comment and vote if you enjoyed the story!

Have a great day/night!

Love,
M. J. Lee

Ps. I know what you did last summer is a movie reference, search it up or if you don't like horror, go watch Dead Meat on Youtube! 😁