Griffin picked up the smartphone and swiped the screen. “Griffin Phoenix,” he said. Lorraine looked over from the other side of the bedroom, hardly able to climb out of bed after another marathon session. “Yeah, thanks.” He set the phone down and turned to Lorraine with a grim, grave expression.

“Grif, what is it? Something about the audit? Did they find Ki Fong?”

“No, Lorraine,” he said with a low, soft rumble in his voice. “It’s Albert.” Lorraine waited, heart skipping a beat, not needing to ask. Griffin explained, “He’s dead, Lorraine. I’m sorry.”

An icy bolt of confused fear shot through Lorraine’s body, an emptiness she only scarcely recognized. “How?”

“I’m not sure,” Griffin said, reaching for the television remote. “Jeannie says it’s all over the news, I didn’t want you to be caught off-guard.” Griffin clicked on the television and climbed back into bed with Lorraine, the two of then in each other's naked arms as the flatscreen came to life in high-definition.

A pretty mocha-skinned woman stood in front of a resort hotel in Las Vegas, Nevada, along the famous Las Vegas Strip. When they turned to that channel, she was already in mid-report:

“… Found just hours later. We managed to get a few words with the new widow of the gubernatorial candidate from Colorado, currently on a cross-country tour of North America to drum up support for his campaign. It’s an unusual strategy, campaigning for governor outside of one’s own state, and it’s raised a lot of eyebrows in Washington, not to mention among his constituents. But today, the world is focused on mourning this rising political star, at the dawn of what was to be a brilliant career.”

Lorraine and Griffin shared a worried look, neither finding words to better the reporter’s facts, which they both wanted desperately for a variety of reasons. But, it was Carmen who dominated the TV screen, a number of news agency mics jutting up into her tired, beleaguered face. Lorraine was struck by how poorly Carmen had aged, but she knew that sorrow was aging her even more.

Carmen said, “We … we’d been campaigning so hard, we decided to take a night just for ourselves, away from the staff and everybody. So we took a room here, had a nice meal. I went down to the spa, had a massage … ”

Lorraine glanced at Griffin, not needing to draw attention to the fact that he was sending her own mother to a spa that very day.

Carmen went on, “When I came back,” she said, voice cracking, “he was lying on the bed … gone.” She broke into tears and a police escort lead her away from the reporters.

The reporter returned to the screen. “No word on the cause of death, or if any foul play is suspected. For KSNV News, this is Tanika Thomas reporting.”

Griffin and Lorraine looked at each other, a tense silence surrounding them. Finally, Lorraine said, “We should pack our bags, get back to New York. There’ll be the funeral in Denver to get to.”

“Yeah,” Griffin said, “call your folks, I’ll get the jet ready.”

* * *

The local press was waiting for them at the airport, camera crews following them through the terminal to their private jet, barking questions at Griffin and Lorraine, the Devonshires already on their way back to Denver.

“What do you make of City Councilman Jenkins’ death, Mrs. Phoenix?”

“What do you expect me to make of it? It’s tragic. I’m so sorry for my old friend Carmen, and for the people of Denver, of the whole state of Colorado, the entire nation; we’ve lost a good man, a man of character and integrity, a dutiful public servant.”

“He came to visit you recently in New York,” one reporter shouted, “isn’t that true?”

“It is,” Griffin said, “it was a private visit in our home, dinner among friends.”

“It wasn’t a business meeting, to do with your PEEC program?”

Lorraine flashed angry eyes at him. “Who could have told you what we were talking about, whatever that may have been?”

“Just speculating,” the reporter said. “The councilman was doing a lot of business in New York on that trip.”

“We don’t know anything about that,” Lorraine said.

“What about your PEEC program,” another asked, “is that still on track?”

“It is, yes,” Griffin said, “we’re just trying to find the perfect location for the pilot center. It’s a crucial decision, not to be taken lightly or to be made quickly.”

Another reporter asked, “What about the rumors that your company is in shambles, that you’re been robbed blind in some ponzi scheme?”

“They’re just that,” Griffin said, “rumors, which makes them meaningless. We did have a little glitch in our computer program, but I understand that’s been cleared up, and things at Phoenix Enterprises are moving ahead, full-steam.”

“Are you planning to attend the funeral in Denver?”

“Of course,” Lorraine said. “Albert was my friend, my mentor, the savior of the public libraries. I wouldn’t dream of dishonoring him by not paying my respect.”

“That’s enough, ladies and gentlemen,” Griffin said, holding his hand up and leading Lorraine and the kids past them and onward toward their private jet for the trip back to New York.

* * *

Two days later, Lorraine and Griffin were attending Albert’s funeral, the kids staying with Larry and Sally for the day. The cemetery was cluttered with mourners, black jackets and veils, sobbing and sniffling, Carmen surrounded by her family and friends.

News crews hovered just beyond the perimeter, catching every miserable moment for their broadcast profit.

The service had been long and somber, but at least everybody had been staring in the same direction. With the crowd gathered around the grave, Lorraine could sense the grim stares she was attracting from her former friends and neighbors, Albert’s constituents who considered him a saint in death.

Lorraine wasn’t sure what was inspiring their ire, as it could have been one of any number of things; the violence at the library three years before, her abandoning them for a jet-set lifestyle out of New York, even Albert’s death. More and more, everybody seemed to have a reason to hate Lorraine and Griffin, despite the risks they’d taken for no other reason than the welfare of the community. Lorraine wasn’t concerned about that, or about them.

Lorraine was worried about Carmen.

After the burial, Lorraine and Griffin worked their way through the grimacing crowd toward Carmen, surrounded by friends and family. Lorraine said, “Carmen, I’m so sorry … ” Lorraine hugged Carmen, but Carmen’s arms barely moved from her sides. Lorraine could feel the tension, the rejection of her outreach, so she backed away with an awkward confusion. “Carmen? Are you okay?”

Carmen lashed out, a black-gloved hand flying out and smacking Lorraine across the face, shocking everybody around them. Carmen grimaced at Lorraine and snarled, “This is all your fault! If it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive!”

“Carmen?”

“The school board. He begged you, but you were just too stubborn.”

“The school board?”

“Shshshshsh! They’ll kill me next,” Carmen rasped, “if they don’t get to you and your family first.”

“Carmen, are you sure of what you’re saying?”

Griffin said, “News said it was a heart attack.”

“Oh please,” Carmen said. “They knew where we were, when he was alone. You think that Supreme Court Justice died of a heart attack, too, I suppose?”

“What are you saying, they smothered him with a pillow like Antonin Scalia?”

“They rushed his body into cremation even though his will said he wanted to be buried, why do you think that is?” Lorraine and Griffin shared a peaked glance. “He was just a warning,” Carmen went on, “watch yourselves, watch your kids — ”

“Carmen!”

“Heed my words! She who lives by the sword, dies by the sword!” With that, Carmen’s family led her away, not sparing any nasty glares at Lorraine and Griffin, but managing to slither away before the camera crews arrived. All they captured were Lorraine’s stunned expression and Griffin’s determined gaze.