Page 39 of What's Left of Us

Turning away, I don’t even bother to think about what the reports will say. Recording someone’s sadness shouldn’t be part of the news, and if they want to write a pity story about me being heartbroken over Alastair I won’t stop them. It doesn’t matter anyway.

The rain continues to splatter across the top of the coffin, and I brush away the thick drops until there’s a spot that’s semi-clear to rest my forehead. All I’ve done today is cry, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t still have more tears. They freefall again when I close my eyes, desperate for this day to not be real.

I’m not ready for goodbye.

“You were my favorite story,” I say in a soft voice, and I’m not sure if Vinny can even hear me standing a few steps back. I say it again, just to hear myself speak. Maybe Alastair can hear me too, wherever he is now. I hope he knows how much I loved him.

It plays over and over in my head, even when Vinny helps me stand. He kisses two fingers, pressing them to the lid of the coffin, and I lean into his embrace beneath the umbrella when he straightens again. He repeats the same line I’ve heard for years, the one that Alastair said to us when our separation was supposed to be temporary.

“Per sempre, fino all’ultimo respiro.”

Always, until my last breath.

Chapter 11

It’s really hard for me to care about the direction that the case is going when it feels like I’ve failed the people who matter most. This is probably why agents aren’t supposed to be emotionally invested in a case, but I’m in this until the end now. I’m not stepping back when there’s so much Porscha should answer for, and when I have two people who need her brought to justice more than anything else.

Alastair called them lovebirds. That feels fitting of Jo and Vinny.

“Finley says that there are whole posts about him online,” Tyler says as we watch the funeral from afar. We were present for the short ceremony, but considering it was a closed ceremony there weren’t a lot of people attending, and that’s probably for the better. I doubt Alastair would want a big, garish affair anyway.

I glance at Tyler, and she tries to give me a smile but it doesn’t work. The rain has let up in the past few minutes, and we’re standing with the others beside my SUV. The reporters already left, and the group of Slayer enthusiasts on the other side of the cemetery have thinned out in the last twenty minutes.

All I do is nod. I haven’t said a lot today, and the last thing I want to think about is whatever trash got posted online. Since Alastair’s death a few weeks ago, he’s become a prominent headline. Dying while being treated for an injury, outside of prison, at a hospital, when you’re waiting on Death Row draws attention. It’s amazing how many of the reports focus on his death, gunned down by a local law official, instead of the reasons he was a convicted felon to begin with.

“That’s no surprise,” Jensen says, watching the cemetery. Jo and Vinny are still standing out there, staring at the coffin. For a while Emeric and his girlfriend got up and stood with them, but they are moving back to their car now. I’m not sure anyone can offer the couple the solace they desperately need right now.

My jaw ticks. I talked to Vinny for a minute earlier, but Jo didn’t even acknowledge me. She’s buried in her grief.

“I think they’re coming over here,” Tyler continues, and I follow her gaze. It does look like Emeric and his guest are approaching.

Soto mentioned to me that Emeric booked two tickets to Florida. One for him, one for Serenity Zimmerman. I study the couple as they approach. Just like us, the rain has left them soaked; Emeric’s shaggy dark hair clings to his forehead and the back of his neck. He’s quite a bit taller than the woman he walks with, her blond hair twisted into a bun that looks heavy from the rain.

She kind of reminds me of Jo. I can see the family resemblance in their faces, even the shapes of their noses. Jo has more of a strawberry reddish tint to her hair, and there’s a harshness in her eyes where life taught her that things are hard. Serenity is younger, about ten years or so if I remember right from looking into her father Wayne, and there’s a kindness in her gaze that I’ve seen in Jo but she tries to hide.

They come right up to our group, and Gabe straightens with a groan beside me. He’s supposed to be on light duty only, which means desk work, and he keeps trying to convince me he should do more in the field. Attending the funeral, studying the crowd, is as close as he’s going to get.

Emeric surprises me, stepping around everyone else to hold out a hand, and I shake his. He never gave me the impression that he likes me very much, and since he arrived back in Florida we haven’t spoken. We’ve had a lot going on the last week. “Sterling.”

“Emeric,” I say, glancing at Serenity. She’s holding their umbrella, gripping it with both hands as though she expects it to blow away. “My condolences.”

He raises a brow, glancing at the team. I wonder how often he talks to Jo and Vinny. “I’m sure this changed a lot of things for you. Perhaps you’ll make the right decision in the future.”

I narrow my eyes. He’s still holding my hand, but we’re no longer shaking. He’s just holding me here. “Excuse me?”

Emeric raises a brow. His eyes are a little red, but it looks like he’s no longer crying. “My brother’s dead because of this case. And before his execution date. If you can do nothing else, at least make this right.”

His words linger over me as he lets go, and it’s no surprise that Emeric is blaming me. He hasn’t been around for a large portion of the case, and he’s only back in Florida now because his step brother died.

Brother.Not foster. They didn’t see each other that way, even if their step parents abandoned one of them. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to stay and answer some questions, but not here. Not at the funeral. Supposedly he should be in town for a couple days, at least that’s the last thing that Vinny mentioned to me when we talked last.

Everything is so fucked up now.

Emeric moves back to Serenity and looks ready to go. But instead of moving with him, she grips the umbrella tighter in her hands and looks around at all of us. “Have you contacted my father?”

Her question surprises me. We’re purposefully not talking about the case right now, and she’s the last one I expected to bring it up. Even Emeric looks like he didn’t expect her to say anything about it. “We’ve spoken with Wayne briefly on several occasions.”

She nods, her dark eyes boring into mine. That’s also the big standout difference between Serenity and Jo. Serenity’s eyes are brown, opposite Jo’s blue ones. “You’re Agent Gideon?”

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