Page 1 of Captured Pawn
CHAPTER1
Sophie
The sound of a jet soaring overhead in the distance was distracting. It was hard to believe that somewhere at the nearby airport, people were going about their daily routines as if it were just a normal Wednesday.
As I glanced up at the vibrant blue May sky, it was as if Mother Nature herself was mocking me. How could she provide a picture-perfect sky for the darkest day in my life? As if she’d heard my thought, a white puffy cloud sailed in front of the bright midday sun, delivering a more appropriate chill to me and the small crowd gathered to say goodbye.
“The measure of a life is not in its duration but in its deeds while alive.” The minister’s words pulled me back to my personal hell.
What a damn crock of shit that was. Matty had only been thirty-three. Hisdurationwasn’t even close to long enough on this earth. Still, I clung to the minister’s words, knowing that as little good they did to comfort me, once he’d finished, there would be nothing left for me to do but go home to an empty house—to wake up each morning and drag myself to the family business that no longer had any family but me left to run it.
“Later this day, when all the words have been spoken, when all the songs have been sung, and we no longer stand here at the graveside of our brother, Matthew Jamison Locke, we will commit his soul into the loving hands of the God he served, bringing an end to the final chapter of his earthly life.”
The elderly minister droned on, his monotone voice betraying that the words he spoke were merely memorized lines of his trade. How many other grieving families had he said those exact words for? I wondered if he’d choke on those holy words if he’d actually met my brother in life rather than in death.
I knew the shiver that shuddered through my body wasn’t because of the chill in the spring air, but rather my memories of the final sixty seconds of Matty’s life. His desperate phone call to me as he was dying was both a gift and a curse that I’d have to carry with me every day until it was my turn to be six feet under beside him.
The people crowded around the grave all started to move, telling me I’d missed the final words of the minister. It was just as well. His flowery prose wasn’t helping anyway.
One by one, friends and neighbors whispered their final condolences to me before slipping away to resume their daily life. It was still early. I bet some of them would head back to work, or maybe go out to lunch. Hell, if it were Matty, he’d be heading out to the marina to enjoy a few hours out on the water. He always did love to play hooky from work whenever he could.
“Come on, Sophie. I’ll drive you home. We can pick up some of Julio’s tacos on the way. You haven’t eaten in days,” my best friend from college, Tricia, said as she linked her arm through mine, gently trying to pull me away from the casket.
She meant well; I knew she did.
“I’m not ready yet. You go ahead,” I urged, fighting back renewed tears. “I need a few minutes alone with Matty to say goodbye, you know?”
“Okay. I’ll stay with…”
“No! I said I need to be alone.”
I hadn’t meant to yell at her. Tricia was the last person I wanted to raise my voice at. There were, however, many horrible people already in line for my fury. And as soon as I could get through an hour without crying, I was going to find each and every one of them and make them as miserable as I was right now.
Tricia reluctantly released me, leaning in to pull a single white rose from the impressive spray of funeral flowers on top of the casket before turning to retreat.
Finally, everyone was gone. Only after she’d left did I realized how very alone I was standing next to the casket that held the burned and broken remains of my only brother. Like my friend, I pulled a single rose from the arrangement, absentmindedly lifting it to my nose.
Nothing. No scent. I felt cheated. The rose was as useless as my despair.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, not bothering to hold back my tears. With each minute that passed, my heart squeezed tighter and tighter until I felt the panic attack building. It took all my effort to finally turn away from the casket, whispering a final, “I love you, Matty,” into the warming breeze.
The grassy turf between the neat rows of headstones was soft after the recent spring showers. The heals of my conservative black pumps punched through the soil, making each step feel as heavy as my heart. My vision was focused on the ground, so it wasn’t until polished black dress shoes came into my view that I realized there were still others who’d remained behind after the service.
Unwilling to talk with anyone else, I was tempted to walk around whoever the man waiting was, yet just as I moved to sidestep around him, he moved directly into my path.
It felt good to crash into him. His muscular body was solid, unlike my frayed emotions.
“Excuse me,” I apologized, not meaning it.
Instead of moving, the tall man reached out and put his hands on my shoulders. I felt a light squeeze as I finally looked up into brown eyes I hadn’t seen in at least three years. Brown eyes that had no right to look as sad as they did in that moment.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Sophie.” His serious voice surrounded me like a heavy blanket, pulling me deeper into my despair.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I spat, trying to pull away. “You don’t deserve to be here!”
His fingers dug into my shoulders, refusing to let me push away from the very man who sat at the top of my fury list.
“Matt was my best friend since sixth grade. I think that earns me the right to be here, don’t you?”
