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.”
“No.” I yank myself free. “How do you know that’s Collins?”
He gets up in my face, snarling. “Educated guess. Once a criminal, always a criminal.”
I recoil, wounded by his cruel reminder of who he is. He’s telling me without telling me there’s more. “The slaps in the face just keep on coming today, don’t they?” I say quietly. “Why don’t you ju—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Danny says, pulling both of our attentions his way. His face is pure disgust with a little bit of despair too. “Burrows. I thought this was a funeral, not a fucking reunion.”
My heart jumps twenty beats and James growls as I push past him. Ollie’s familiar eyes speak to me, tell me to play the game, and when he gives the same look to James, I pray he reads it. Keeping his eyes on my fiancé, Ollie comes at me, lifting his arms slowly, like he’s approaching with caution. He is. I remain still and unwilling as I’m taken in a hug that feels as wrong as being at my father’s funeral. “Collins is asking too many questions about you, Beau,” he whispers. “She’s digging. Be careful.”
“Get your fucking hands off her before I rip them off,” James hisses ominously, making me tense everywhere in Ollie’s embrace.
I gently break away and move back. “Where have you been?” I ask him. “You said you needed to speak to me and then nothing.”
“I took some leave.” Ollie obviously feels uncomfortable talking in front of James and Danny, his eyes constantly shooting to them, as if he thinks there’s a risk of them drawing and firing at any second. “Collins is watching me like a hawk. She thinks I’m on the inside for your boyfriend and his buddy.” Ollie looks at Danny and James, and Danny starts laughing in clear disbelief.
“She thinks you’re working for your ex-fiancée’s fiancé?” Danny’s eyes move to the woman watching us from not too far away as Ollie’s eyes shoot to me, and then my hand, which I find I naturally cover, much to my own annoyance, and definitely James’s. Maybe I subconsciously hoped to limit feelings from being hurt. Instead, I’ve poked an already pissed off rattlesnake.
“No,” Ollie replies, his jaw ticking slightly. “She thinks I’m being blackmailed.”
“Is that why you’ve taken annual leave?” I ask, locking eyes with Collins. Her face suits her voice. Superior. An attractive lady, but with quite pointed features and eyes that are constantly narrowed. Suspicious. All of the time. Of everything. I know better than anyone that constant, natural suspicion doesn’t necessarily make you a good cop. But it definitely makes you a less than liked one.
“I needed to step back,” Ollie goes on. “Not be around when shit goes down.”
“Love the way you look at us when you say that.” Danny’s jaw rolls. “And doesn’t your absence look a bit dodgy?”