Page 26 of White Raven
“What is this?” Rhaena spun in her chair, eyeing the back of Ryan’s head as she stalked to the elevator.
“Night, detective.” The quirky brunette didn’t look back, or even acknowledge the several stares from around the precinct when she pressed her finger down on the button, opening the elevator doors. It wasn’t a very thick file, but it was definitely obvious that while Rhaena didn’t trust this woman, she hadunexpectedly done some work right under her nose—work that their captain, no doubt, would have expected Rhaena to figure out first. She opened the folder, the first two pages being familiar reports of cases where these dead birds were found in a victim’s mouth. One was signed off on by Jenkins, and the other…
“What the fuck?” Rhaena whispered under her breath, glancing up to where the elevator doors were closing on Sykes as she smiled and waved a finger in farewell. Rhaena craned her neck over her shoulder looking through the blinds at her captain, who had his back turned and his desk phone on his ear. When her eyes found their way back to the signature on that report, she slapped the folder closed.
“Hey,” Jenkins smiled, stepping up to her side. “Ready to go change? Funeral starts in half an hour.” Rhaena slipped the file into her laptop bag and rose from her seat, nodding.
“I’m gonna change at home. Let’s roll,” she said, grabbing her stuff as he fell into step behind her. She met eyes with Foley on her way past his office, redirecting her attention to the elevator and walking with a little more force.
“You okay?” Jenkins asked, thumbing the button to the elevator.
“Did you run those reports from the lab, or did Sykes?
The doors opened, and they stepped inside, Jenkins giving her a concerned look as he chose their floor. “She offered to run the prints through the database. I had already finished the DNA workup. Why?”
Foley stared her down as the doors closed and Rhaena loosed a long breath. “I think Cap might have some secrets of his own that he hasn’t been willing to share.”
“About ten more minutes, sir.”
The funeral director had a way about her that instantly put one at ease. Brent nodded, hanging his head as he stared over the handsome roses in the spray that covered his mother’s oak casket. She’d be moved to the main sanctuary of the church for the service before they opened the doors for mourners to take their seats. He hadn’t switched on his phone all day. He considered doing it now, for no other reason than to snap photos of how beautiful these flowers were, and he knew how much she’d love them—they looked just like the floral pattern on the chair she always occupied in their library. Like the roses on her favorite porcelain teacup, now broken and gone forever…just like…
“Brent?”
He sighed and closed his eyes momentarily, slowly turning to see Sarah standing in the doorway of the small receiving room. He didn’t see any sign that Kane was nearby, but knew he had to be somewhere close.
“Thanks for coming,” he choked out, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else right now.” Her half-smile was a deep burgundy, and the simple black dress she wore with a white Peter Pan collar reminded him of Wednesday Addams, but…she looked beautiful.
“Wren?” It felt horrible for that to be the first thing on his mind, considering the circumstances…but he missed her. Sarah slowly shook her head in apology. Brent turned back to the casket and laid a hand over it. “It’s okay. It might be way too much for her right now.” He heard her heels against the carpet as she crept up behind him and smoothed a palm down the back of his crisp suit.
“It’s beautiful. She always did love roses.”
“She did. And books. I put my grandmother’s Bible in there with her.”
A stiff silence stretched between them as they stared at the blooms, and he felt Sarah tense beside him. God only knew what was going on through her cluttered head. Sarah was going through plenty, herself, but he could feel her guilt as heavy as his own grief. She didn’t need to say that it was weighing on her—that his mother’s life could have been saved if Sarah had been there, or if she’d only accepted that blood bag. But that left Annie…and that decision that Patricia made that day reflected the perfect soul within her. The person Brent would strive to be moving forward.
The funeral director stepped silently in from the side door. “It’s time, Mr. Stratford. There are several members of the 12th precinct requesting to stand watch at the back of the sanctuary.”
“Put them in the front rows, please.”
“Those seats are reserved for fam—”
“Theyarefamily. The only family I have that’ll fill that empty space up there. Do it.” He met eyes with Sarah, who leaned in closer and patted his back. The funeral director hastily left the room.
“Should I go?” she asked politely.
“If you don’t mind…I’d like to walk with her myself.” He wondered if it sounded worse than he meant it. But Sarah always was the smart one. She understood things most didn’t, and if anyone knew what it felt like to be an orphan…she surely did. She tugged him close and squeezed before sliding a hand down the side of the casket and turning to leave.
A few moments later, they came to move Pat to the sanctuary, and music began playing on the organ in the church as Brent followed behind. The walk seemed long and unfamiliar faces that crowded the pews became a blur as theypositioned her beneath a large, framed photo. He turned to see Athan Kane, saluting his mother as if she were in service…Rhaena Northwood…Brandon Jenkins…Malcolm Foley. There were several uniformed officers following suit. Sarah stood next to her mate, solemn and quiet, waiting for him to join the lone empty spot next to her on the outer edge of the pew closest to his mother. A large knot formed in his throat and his eyes burned.
Brent slowly sat, the congregation following him, and the pastor began the sermon. It was beautiful. He wondered why he couldn’t find it in himself to shed a single tear. They were there…he could feel them. Why wouldn’t they come out? A long prayer ended the service, and the 12th made their way around the casket, raising it, and beginning Pat’s final journey down the aisle. Sarah walked next to him in silence and Brent paused for a second when he spotted Annie with her older sister, and her parents. He reached a hand out towards her and she took it, stepping forward to walk with him the rest of the way. More police stopped the traffic and split the busy Boston street as they made their way across to the gated cemetery. Brent had picked one of the most expensive plots. Somewhere isolated and beautiful, beneath a jacaranda tree that had gorgeous purple buds in the spring. Wind chimes and trinkets hung from low branches and dinged softly in the icy breeze as they made their way beneath the tent to start the graveside service.
There were no seats. Brent listened to every word the pastor uttered…until something caught his attention across the way near a tall monument. After that, the pastor’s voice drowned out and his focus zeroed in on a hooded figure watching on silently—her red and blonde hair peeking out from beneath her hood and fluttering in the wind as she locked eyes with him.
She came.
It wasn’t until that moment that a single tear crept down his cheek, and with it…went his composure. Brent lowered hisface, covering it with his hand and silently broke. Annie gripped tight on his other hand and rested her head on his hip. He felt consoling pats to his shoulders, but didn’t look to see who they were from as the pastor started another closing prayer, and the casket began to lower into the vault. Pipers standing by for the burial began playing ‘Amazing Grace’ and his heart nearly caved in.
