“Marianne must be covering this for the Review,” she said. “Jim Woolf and his brothers aren’t here. His sister Lisa was buried yesterday.”
“Lisa Woolf was one of O’Brien’s victims, too,” Luke said for Al’s benefit.
Susannah didn’t want to think about Mack’s victims. That they were dead too closely tied to Simon, which too closely tied to her. “The man next to Pastor Wertz is Corey Presto. Mr. Presto owns the pizza parlor where Sheila worked and was killed.”
“Presto I know. I was at the scene with Daniel after Sheila was shot.” Luke lifted his head to scan the crowd and Susannah felt cold again. “Two-thirds of the people here are reporters. I thought your parents’ funeral was a media circus, but this is insane.”
She hesitated. “Thank you, by the way, for coming to my parents’ funeral. I know it meant a lot to Daniel to have you and your family here.”
He squeezed her arm. “Daniel’s family. We couldn’t let him go through that alone.”
She shivered, whether from the contact or the sentiment she was unsure. Studying the crowd, she frowned at the figure standing alone off to the side. “That’s odd.”
Al Landers instantly tensed. “What?”
“Just that Garth Davis’s sister Kate came. I didn’t expect to see her here, under the circumstances. I mean, Sheila was one of Garth’s victims. That’s her, standing alone.”
“Maybe she’s just here to pay her respects,” Al said.
“Maybe,” Susannah said doubtfully. “But how awkward.”
“Sshh,” Luke cautioned. “They’re getting ready to start.”
It was a short service, and sad. Next to Pastor Wertz, pizza parlor owner Corey Presto stood quietly crying. Susannah didn’t see any other family or friends. She wondered how many people here had actually known Sheila Cunningham.
Based on the avidly curious expressions of nearly every face in the crowd, not many. Sheila was news. She’d be gossiped about around water coolers for days to come.
Once the news of my statement hits, so will I.
Pastor Wertz began reading from the Bible, his face weary. He’d already officiated over two funerals in as many days and there were many more to come.
She thought about Daniel as Corey Presto put a red rose on top of Sheila’s casket. Her brother had very nearly died yesterday. Had Alex not acted so quickly Susannah might have been standing here again in a few days, burying the last of her family.
And then I would be as alone as Sheila Cunningham had been. More so, because at least Sheila had Corey Presto. I have no one. Susannah swallowed hard, startled to find her face wet. Embarrassed, she quickly wiped her cheeks with her fingertips, stiffening when Luke’s hand brushed her hair, settling on her back, warm and solid. For just a moment she gave in to the temptation to lean, resting her head against him.
And for just a moment she let herself yearn for a man like Luke Papadopoulos, decent and kind. But that was not in the cards. Not after what he now knew. He would be kind because Daniel was family, and he might even be attracted to her, but ultimately the man whose mama still carried a rosary around in her purse would never want… a woman like me. And who could blame him? I don’t want a woman like me.
Pastor Wertz said the “Amen” and Susannah pulled away from Luke, physically and emotionally. Al pushed a handkerchief into her hand. “Your mascara’s run.”
Quickly she wiped her face again. “Did I fix it?”
Al tipped her face up. “Yeah. You okay?”
No. “Yeah.” She turned to Luke. “You don’t have to babysit me. I’ll be fine.”
Luke didn’t look like he believed her, but nodded. “I do need to get back. I have an appointment at two. Call if you need me or if you see anyone who looks familiar.” He looked around. “I did want to talk to Kate Davis. Do you see her?”
Susannah didn’t. “She must have left. This had to have been uncomfortable.”
Luke looked at Al. “There are cops everywhere. If you need to, yell.”
Al watched him go, then looked down at her, brows lifted. “He’s very… nice.”
Way too nice for me. “Let’s go back. I haven’t spent any time with Jane Doe today.”
She’d only taken a few steps when a woman stopped in her path. She was tall, blond, and smileless. “Hi,” she said nervously. “You’re Susannah Vartanian, aren’t you?”
Al’s hand closed over her arm protectively. “I am,” Susannah said. “Do I know you?”
“I don’t think so. I’m Gretchen French.”
The victim Chloe Hathaway said was trying to organize a press conference. How could she have found out so quickly? “What can I do for you, Miss French?”
“I met your brother Daniel a few days ago. I heard he was shot by Randy Mansfield.”
The knot in her chest loosened. “He was, but he’ll be all right.”
Gretchen smiled, but it looked like it cost her. “I just wanted to ask you to thank him for me. He and Talia Scott made a very difficult time more bearable. He’s a kind man.”
Susannah nodded. “I’ll tell him.”
“It’s nice of you to come today, to pay your respects to Sheila in Daniel’s place.”
Susannah felt Al’s grip tighten, bolstering her. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Then you knew Sheila?”
“No.” Just say it. Say it. Say it and it will be easier the second time.
Gretchen’s brows crunched. “Then why are you here?”
Susannah drew a breath. “For the same reason you are.” She let the breath out quietly. “I was a victim, too.”
Gretchen’s mouth dropped open. “But… I…” She stared. “I had no idea.”
“I didn’t know about you either, or any of the others. Not until Daniel told me on Thursday. I thought I was the only one.”
“So did I. Oh God.” Gretchen took a steadying breath. “We all did.”
“I gave my statement to ASA Hathaway today,” Susannah said. “I’ll be testifying.”
Gretchen was still stunned. “It will be difficult.”
Difficult. She was beginning to hate that word. “It will be hell for us all.”
“I suppose you know that better than any of us. I read that you’re a prosecutor now.”
“Now,” Susannah said, and Al squeezed her arm again. But maybe not later. Al was indeed correct that the defense would exploit her status as a victim. But she’d stand with the others now and cross each bridge as she got there. “Miss Hathaway said you’re organizing a press conference. If you tell me when and where, I’ll be there.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, please. I’ll give you my card. Call me when the arrangements are made.” She’d bowed her head to search her purse when a sharp crack split the air.
In an instant Susannah was thrown to the ground, her breath leaving her in a rush as Al landed on top of her and all hell broke loose in the cemetery. Around her people screamed and ran as police mobilized to bring order to the crowd.
Dazed, Susannah lifted her head, her gaze locking onto a woman who stood still amid all the frenzied movement around her. She was dressed in black, from her veiled hat to the hem of her old-fashioned dress to the tips of her gloved fingers. The black lace of the veil fell below her chin, covering her face, but somehow Susannah knew the woman was staring. At me.
And Susannah stared back, momentarily mesmerized.
Red lips. She has red, red lips. The color showed through the black lace, creating a startling effect. And then the woman slipped into the crowd and was gone.
“Are you all right?” Al shouted over the panicked screams.