Page 134 of Fearless

Several of the churches had small, private cemeteries, but they were laying Andre to rest in the city graveyard, amid its rolling, oak-studded hills, behind its twelve-foot iron fence. The drive wound slowly up and back, around a manmade pond with a bubbling fountain in the center, up through the gnarled trunks of Civil War era trees, over a crest and to a plateau of land that had a view of the entire grounds. It was the place where other Dogs had been buried, and it was here that Andre would join them.

They had to park on a hill and trek up it in their heels, steps cautious and slow. Ghost came back and took each of their arms, helping them forward. Rottie helped Mina steer their two sons along. It looked like Nell helped Hound, rather than the other way around. Jackie murmured something soothing to Collier as they walked, rubbing his arm. James leaned on a cane, Bonita holding his elbow firmly on the other side. Voices were low; the sun glazed the pavement in buttery tones.

The graveside service took only fifteen minutes, Pastor Thomas keeping it short, but heartfelt. The two baby mamas threw hateful glances at once another until Nell wedged herself between them and elbowed them both hard in the ribs. Ava stood beside Maggie, hands folded in front of her, feeling dazed and robotic. The sun was too warm for her black clothes, and the humidity creeping into the atmosphere made her itchy and restless. Her skirt was too tight, her heels too high, and when she flicked her hair over her shoulder, she caught sight of Mercy from the corner of her eye and felt the nervous perspiration bead up between her shoulder blades.

The stopwatch kept ticking away, deep inside. Anxiety, a restless tension, a threat in the building banks of low clouds out west of the city.

When it was over, and the backhoe operator was left to his work, Ava stood rooted a moment, watching the western sky darken, feeling the sun beat even hotter at her back. A storm was blowing up, in this crushing press of heat, and the wind billowed her hair around her face, proving the point.

“Ava,” Maggie called. “Let’s go, sweetie.”

Halfway down the hill to the cars, she spotted the police cruiser, and the black Mercedes, and she stiffened.

She recognized Sergeant Fielding and another uniformed officer. And she recognized the salt-and-pepper suited man beside them, because she’d seen his son just yesterday: Mayor Mason Stephens.

It seemed like the entire Lean Dogs company came to a halt in unison. Ava grabbed at her mother’s arm and heard Maggie say, “It’s fine.”

“Kenneth Teague,” Stephens said, in a booming, political voice that carried. “You’re in violation of a city ordinance that bans anarchist demonstrations on city-owned property.”

“Do you see me burning flags?” Ghost returned. “This is a funeral, Mr. Mayor. If you’re looking for anarchists, I suggest you talk to those hacky-sack kids at the park.”

Stephens’ smile was straight from a debate hall. “An outlaw and a comedian.”

“What can I say – I’m multi-dimensional.” He gestured and the rest of the Dogs pressed forward, going to their bikes.

Ava felt Maggie’s hand at her wrist and was towed down the hill toward the truck.

“Cute,” Stephens said. “But Sergeant Fielding is here to break up your little protest.”

“It’s already broken up. Go get yourself another spray tan and don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve also,” Stephens continued, “asked him to question all of you about the murder of Andre Preston.”

“That’s right, question us instead of the bastard who stabbed him,” Ghost shot back.

There was a real possibility, Ava thought, that her dad might actually come to blows with the mayor.

She and Maggie were slipping past the man when his head turned.

“It’s Ava, right?”

Ava froze, one foot poised above the asphalt. She swallowed hard and felt her mother’s reassuring squeeze as she turned to face Stephens.

He was beaming at her, all false charm and friendly interest.

“Yes.” She managed not to stammer.

His smile broadened, if that was possible, with a blinding flash of teeth. “It’s good to see you up and around.” What the hell did that mean? “I’m glad you’re doing well. You are, aren’t you? Doing well?”

“I’m fine.”

“Glad to hear it. I hear you’re starting grad school at UT next week; you must have finished at Georgia, then.”

Ava felt the color drain from her face. How did he know that?

“Come on, you don’t have to talk to him,” Maggie said, giving her a little tug.

“I was happy,” Stephens said, “more than happy, really, to send that recommendation letter for you to UGA. I always love to help bright young people excel.”

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