I remained perfectly calm. “Interesting thing about graves, Frederick. Sometimes they’re not what they appear to be.”
I signaled to Dominic Reeves, who had been waiting outside. He entered carrying a black ceramic urn.
Frederick’s eyes widened in horror. “No,” he whispered.
“I exhumed Victoria’s grave,” I revealed calmly. “Imagine my surprise when I found it empty.”
Frederick’s face went white. “That’s impossible.”
“A cenotaph,” I continued. “Containing only clothes and jewelry. Very clever, really.”
Dominic set Sarah Winters’ Memorial Urn on the table between us. The black ceramic gleamed under the harsh lights.
Frederick screamed, his eyes filled with murderous hate. His wolf howled in anguish as he recognized what I was holding.
“These are your mother’s real ashes,” I sa
