Total pages in book: 217
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207224 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1036(@200wpm)___ 829(@250wpm)___ 691(@300wpm)
Cremation.
It feels like one last kick in the gut from my father. Why would he ever wish to be scorched? Why would he make me stand here and watch his body be drawn into a raging inferno? My arm starts to tingle, and I try to blink away the black dots springing into my vision.
Burn.
My breathing diminishes.
The heat.
My heartbeats become erratic and sharp.
The unbearable, blinding heat.
Panic. It’s coming.
I look up at James, finding him watching me closely. “I’m not okay,” I whisper.
He’s moving fast, pulling me out of the aisle and down the center of the seats, through people, all who look terribly sorry for me. Poor girl, they’re thinking. Can’t bear to say goodbye to her daddy.
Get me out!
I feel Danny close behind me, but the exit door seems to be getting farther and farther away, the room becoming smaller and smaller, the people multiplying.
I stagger along on wobbly legs, hot, dizzy, sweating, and as soon as James pushes out of the door and daylight hits me, I drag in the fresh air ravenously, releasing James’s hand and resting against the wall outside. “Why would he do that?” I ask them, breathless. “Burn himself. Why?”
Of course, no one has the answer to my question, probably not even my father. I curse out loud and walk on, James and Danny as close as they can be without touching me, watchful, listening, and when we reach the end of the graveled pathway, I find myself at the foot of a wall covered in plaques, and in the center, in shiny, glimmering gold, is my father’s memorial.
THOMAS JOHN HAYLEY
1964-2022
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER
TAKEN TOO SOON
I stare at it. Just stare. Committing himself to an inferno wasn’t his last blow at all. How can he with only four words crush me so completely? Beloved? He betrayed her! He let me down. Endlessly! Beloved? I laugh out loud.
“Beau,” James says quietly.
“Did I tell you he arranged everything himself?” I say, lifting a limp arm and pointing at the plaque. “The place, how, this?”
“Let’s go.” Danny slips an arm around my shoulder, but I shrug it off.
“If you’re so sure my father’s death wasn’t suspicious, why do you have me in a bulletproof vest?” I ask. “And Ringo, Goldie, and Otto in position?” I look across the grounds, seeing various men in various areas.
“Brad’s apartment was blown up, Beau,” James says softly. “We’re sitting ducks here while you say goodbye to your father.”
“That’s not it,” I argue. “There’s something more.” I face them both, giving each of them a moment of my eyes, finishing on Danny. “Yesterday in your office, you were about to tell the others something.” I look at James. “Then you had your cell out, and suddenly Danny was getting a message.” I’m back with Danny, who’s straight face gives nothing away. Practiced. “Then suddenly you shut up? You suddenly had nothing to say?” I look between their quiet, still forms, waiting for an explanation. I get nothing. Of course I get nothing.
“Miss Hayley?”
I look past the two unmoving towers of muscle before me to the voice and find a clean-cut looking man with short hair and an immaculately pressed blue suit.
“Monroe Metcalfe,” he says, prompting James and Danny to look too, but their bodies remain facing me. Blocking me. Or blocking the world. Metcalfe gives each of their sharp faces a dubious look. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.” He smiles awkwardly, and all I can think is . . . no, you’re not sorry. You’re elated, because now you have a clear path to the position of mayor. I remain quiet before him, and Metcalfe becomes more and more uncomfortable. “He spoke of you fondly. Was very proud of you.”
“What?”
James coughs, and Danny shifts, uncomfortable, and Monroe Metcalfe steps back. “Well, I should be going.” He bows his head, throwing one more look at James and Danny, then backs away, buttoning his jacket as he goes.
I look around, seeing everyone filing out of the building and walking the path toward us. “Fucking hell,” Danny mutters. “Higham.”
My eyes dart to where they’re looking, seeing a plain-clothed cop standing by the wall. Then across the way, a woman, another cop without a doubt, watching me. I know who she is. Collins.
The wise thing for me to do would be to leave. Go. Walk away. I’m not feeling very wise right now. Only reckless. Full of hatred and disappointment. I push past the men and head toward Collins.
“Whoa,” James says over a non-humorous laugh, pulling me back. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Yes, terrible.” Danny blocks the way between me and Collins, and I look between them, interested.
“How do you two know who that is?” I ask.
“How do you?” James counters.
“Educated guess,” I retort. “Once a cop, always a cop.”
“Don’t I fucking know it,” he mutters, taking my arm. “We’re leaving.”