What had she just gotten herself into?
Groaning, Monti dragged herself up. They were in her van before she could find another excuse. The last thing she wanted was to go to an empty grave site. She just had to keep telling herself that this wasn’t for her. It was for Fallon.
“So what did you actually say to her?”
“You know I can’t tell you that.” Monti stared at the road in front of her, trying to remember exactly how to get there. Fallon interjected directions. “She’s a client.”
“Somehow I don’t think what you two were talking about today had anything to do with HIPAA.”
Monti clenched her jaw. That had been her best reason to not share and Fallon was already poking holes in it. “I told her about our parents.”
“You didn’t.”
“Well, I figured you had by now, to be fair.” Monti took a turn to end up on the highway.
“It never came up.”
“You made sure it never came up.” Monti knew it was a low blow, but it was the truth. Fallon had avoided that one just like Monti did. They hated talking about their parents, but it was for entirely different reasons. Monti never felt connected and all Fallon felt was grief and confusion. She sighed heavily. “Anyway, so now she knows.”
“She’s going to research the hell out of that case now. You know that, right?”
“No. Why would I know that?” Monti frowned. Would Athena be sitting at her computer doing that? Would she be looking through the news reports that were on television and in the papers? Would she see Monti’s name in there amongst the survivors? The date of the funeral for their mother? The fact that there hadn’t been one for their father?
“Because she’s obsessive about these things. She’s probably going to try and figure out why there wasn’t a trial.”
“It’s obvious why there wasn’t one.” Monti pinched her face.
“No, I meant why no one sued the cops or the social workers or something like that. She’ll want to know everything.”
That didn’t sit well in Monti’s stomach. She’d never considered that there had been other people who could shoulder some of the blame for what had happened. She’d never really asked either. Monti kept her mouth shut as she turned off the highway and toward the cemetery.
When they pulled up by the grave, Fallon still leading the way with practiced directions, Monti parked and sighed. She really didn’t want to be here. But she was doing this for Fallon and for their relationship.
The rain was unpleasant, cold and biting against Monti’s skin. She walked around the van and followed Fallon’s footsteps through the incredibly soggy grass. Her shoes were soaked in seconds, the water already seeping up the edges of her pants to her ankles. That was going to take forever to dry if she even managed it before bed that night.
“Why are there flowers here?” Fallon asked as she stopped in front of the headstone. Her brow was furrowed as she bent down and lifted the bouquet up.
Roses, white and red, were in a spray of greens with small white flowers next to them. Monti should know what they were called, but the name slipped through her mind. The vase was glass and still mostly full of water. Not that that meant anything since this was Seattle and it rained almost constantly this time of year.
Fallon held the bouquet out to Monti. “Did you do this?”
“It took a huge argument and you reminding me the anniversary was this week for me to even remember, and you think I paid to have flowers brought to an empty grave?” Monti pinned Fallon with a disbelieving look.
“You’re right. That was stupid.” Fallon put the roses back down. “Then who brought them?”
“No clue. Maybe Tia did it.”
“Maybe…” Fallon trailed off. “Except she said she hadn’t been to visit yet.”
“When did you talk to her?”
“Few days ago.” Fallon shoved her hands in her pockets.
Monti stood next to her and stared down at the flowers before reading her mother’s name. Carla Montgomery. They’d buried her under her maiden name, wanting absolutely nothing to do with their father. Fallon drew in a shuddering breath, and Monti knew what was coming next.
They’d come every year growing up. Monti had started avoiding it as soon as she was old enough to voice her hatred of it, and Tia would let her stay home. Still, Fallon usually managed to drag her down here at least once a year until Fallon had moved out of the house.
Fallon would cry, sob, and she’d probably mumble something like I love you, Mommy or I miss you, Mommy. Then they would stand there in awkward silence for what felt like an eternity before Fallon would agree to leave after Monti had whined enough.