Page 9 of Truth (Wicked Empire 2)

“So tragic,” Carol muttered.

I patted her shoulder, but didn’t speak.

She looked at me sympathetically, and I could see her thoughts.

She, like most everyone else, would assume that I was sad because of our previous relationship, because of his loss.

But it was so much more than that, more than I even wanted to think about.

“I hope it was quick,” Carol whispered.

I didn’t say anything, still, just squeezed her hand again and looked at her empathetically.

I knew the answer, not that I could tell her.

Instead, I nodded. “I’m sure it was. From what the police say, he was unconscious when the car caught on fire. He didn’t feel a thing. I hope,” I said.

The words were like nails in my throat, and getting them out was one of the hardest things I had ever had to do.

For reasons that were far more complicated than I wanted to consider.

“You’re right. It’s just so sad,” Carol said yet again, shaking her head.

“If you wouldn’t mind, let’s have a moment of silence to honor Keenan.”

The atrium, which had been buzzing with murmurs during my father’s remarks, went quiet.

I looked at the faces, but didn’t really see anyone.

Instead, I thought about Keenan. How I’d thought I’d known him.

How I’d been wrong twice.

How I yet again found myself questioning everything, most of all myself.

“Thank you,” my father said after the moment of silence. “We’ll have some light refreshments, and of course, everyone is free to take the rest of the day in remembrance,” my father said.

I looked at him, surprised, and then considered I shouldn’t have been.

He’d always liked Keenan—more than he’d liked me, anyway—so I didn’t doubt that he was taking Keenan’s death hard.

“I should go talk to him,” I whispered to Carol.

She patted my shoulder. “Of course,” she said.

She drifted off to one of the other assembled groups, and after a deep breath, I went to my father.

“Are you doing okay, Daddy?”

He lifted a brow, and I quickly corrected myself. “I’m sorry. Are you doing okay, Mr. James?”

“As well as can be expected, Amy. You don’t meet people like Keenan every day. Such a tragic loss,” he said.

And for the first time that I could remember, I saw real emotion on his face.

From what I could remember, he had been upset, a little bit somber when my grandfather had died, had been even more so when he had explained to me the circumstances of my mother’s death.

But Keenan’s death seemed to be hitting him harder.

---