Chapter Nine: Who Stole the Body?

Besides himself, there were three other men who helped carry the coffin to the burial site. Two were Louis’s burly nephews, and the third was his younger brother.

"Was there anything unusual during the burial? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?" Officer Lane asked the four men.

"I don't think so," one of Louis’s nephews recalled. "We buried the coffin, and Norma—the funeral director—was standing by the hearse with his tall, strong son. Everything seemed perfectly normal."

Officer Lane nodded, removing his rain-soaked police cap. "What’s happening now is far from normal. Smallville hasn't seen anything like this in years. Grave robbing is no minor offense." As he spoke, he turned his gaze toward Peter. "Patrick, do you have anything to add?"

"No," Peter replied, shaking his head to indicate he knew no more than the police.

"Is that so?" The officer stepped through the mud and walked over to him. "The Walmart shooter case from last time is still open, and now we have to deal with this."

Peter looked at him with surprise. "It’s been six years. Are you still investigating that, Officer Lane?"

"Of course. No matter how long it takes, I will catch that killer." He glanced at Peter once more before turning around to put his cap back on.

Peter stared at his retreating back, his eyes narrowing.

...

Peter drove his black Toyota SUV to take his cousin’s family home. Sitting in the back seat, his cousin Louis looked dazed, as if he hadn't yet recovered from the massive blow. His wife, Vanessa, watched her husband with a worried expression, appearing as though she wanted to say something but held back.

"I am sorry for what happened," Peter said, trying to comfort his cousin.

"I'm fine, Peter. Thank you for driving us home," Louis said, forcing himself to muster some strength. He then asked, "How is John?"

"He's doing well. He was already asleep when I left."

"You're a responsible father, Peter. Zu isn't your biological son, but you've always taken care of him. You’ve even put your own marriage on hold for his sake," Louis remarked with a sigh. Although he didn't see his cousin often, he had known for a long time that Peter had adopted a baby boy with whom he shared no blood relation.

"It's fine," Peter replied casually. Though he wasn't married, he had plenty of "close friends" between Metropolis and Smallville.

Besides, he could now consider himself immortal. By the time Zu hit his mid-life crisis, he would likely still look to be in his twenties. If he could live for hundreds of years, why rush into the grave of marriage? After a few more perfunctory responses to Louis, Peter focused on his driving.

Ten minutes later, Peter dropped the couple off at their home. In the living room, Louis poured him a cup of hot coffee.

"I'm sure the police will catch the culprit soon," Peter said, offering comfort.

"I hope so," Louis replied, pulling a beer from the fridge. He seemed desperate to unburden his grief. "It’s all my fault. If I had kept a better eye on little Terry, maybe he wouldn't have run out into the road..."

"Don't say that," Peter said, picking up his coffee. "It’s all in the past, Louis."

Louis sighed. "Peter, you don't know what he was like at six years old. He was so obedient and loved to pester me with his whimsical ideas." The slightly tipsy man then began to recount a series of heartwarming memories, speaking with such vivid, touching detail that it was heartbreaking to hear.

After listening patiently for a while, Peter began to grow restless. Just as he was about to bid his cousin farewell, he noticed drag marks on the lawn outside.

*Clang!*

The sound of a beer can hitting the floor rang out. Peter turned around to find that Louis had dropped his drink and collapsed in a drunken stupor.

Pushing the door open, Peter stepped out onto the lawn. A light rain was still drizzling. The grass was flattened in one direction, and patches of foul-smelling earth were scattered about. Peter’s superhuman senses easily identified the stench of the soil as coming from the cemetery he had visited earlier that day.

Is the grave robber here? Peter’s expression grew grave.

He stepped back into the house, following the scent. His cousin remained passed out. Leaving the living room, Peter tracked the smell as he slowly made his way up to the second floor.

The scent grew stronger as he ascended. It smelled faintly of freshly cut grass, yet also like a fungal growth. In short, it was the smell of decay and absolute stagnation. Though it was faint and likely imperceptible to an ordinary person, Peter’s senses had long since surpassed those of a normal human.

On the second floor, in the master bathroom, a dark, shadowy mass swayed slightly behind the shower curtain in the dim night.

*Rip!*

Peter yanked the curtain aside. There was no person behind it, only a canvas tarp.

The tarp was covered in mud, and the stench emanating from it was overwhelming.

This is...

Staring at the tarp, Peter’s brows furrowed. It looked exactly like the one used to wrap little Terry for the burial.

He turned around.

*BOOM!*

A crack of thunder pierced the darkness of the night, illuminating Peter’s expressionless face.

Which meant... it was Louis himself who had secretly dug up the body.

He had dug up his own son’s corpse with his own hands?

No! It couldn't be him! The man’s agonizing, self-reproachful display earlier didn't seem faked. If it wasn't him, then it must have been his wife—Vanessa.

Why would she do this?

Peter’s brow knitted in confusion. He stepped out of the bathroom, continuing to follow the faint scent. Outside, the rain grew heavier, and Peter’s footsteps echoed through the hallway.

At the end of the second-floor corridor, in a storage room, Louis’s wife, Vanessa, stood tense behind the door. She gripped a dagger in her hand, listening as Peter’s footsteps drew closer. On the floor behind her lay the corpse of her son, which she had secretly unearthed.

*Thump-thump! Thump-thump!*

Her heart pounded wildly. As she listened to Peter’s approach, it felt as though she were awaiting a final judgment. To keep Peter from discovering her secret, she would have to kill him! But she had never done such a thing before, and her hand trembled, holding the blade as her heart raced uncontrollably.

*Tap. Tap. Tap.*

The footsteps drew closer until they stopped right outside the door where she stood.

*Thump-thump!*

The two stood face to face, separated only by a door, the sound of Vanessa’s heartbeat drumming against her own eardrums.

*Click!*

The broken handle of the storage room door was turned gently.

With a hardened look in her eyes, Vanessa raised the dagger.