CHAPTER SEVEN

Gillian had never met Byron’s parents. But of course, they were at the funeral. The man was actually Byron’s stepfather. He held the hand of his wife, scowling all the while, impatiently waiting for the proceedings to be over. As to be expected, Byron’s mother looked inconsolable.

The memorial had been well attended, which was no surprise. Byron had been the life of the party. His friend Keith delivered the eulogy.

“Byron really knew what life is all about. He knew how to have a good time. He knew how to dream big and go for it. He was such an inspiration to me. A real mentor. We had just gone into business together.”

It went on ad nauseam from there. Gillian surreptitiously checked out the sad, solemn faces around her. How many people had Byron hoodwinked into thinking he was the salt of the earth?

A surprising number of them elected to attend the burial immediately afterward. Simone was among them, which Gillian had fully expected. There was an old lady there, dressed in all black, which should not have been remarkable. But Simone had seen her in Oyster Cove for her entire lifetime, and she knew for a fact that the woman always wore black, even on the sunniest day. It was rumored that she was a witch. But as illusions about Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny fell away, Gillian filed her belief in witches as just another childhood myth.

Now, she knew better. Witches in Oyster Cove were a verifiable fact, though she wasn’t entirely ready to include herself among them. But what on earth would a witch be doing attending Byron’s funeral?

The witch was far from the most unexpected attendee. When it is said that you see something coming a mile away, it’s usually just a figure of speech. But through bushes, fences, and metal, Gillian actually did see officers Cochran and Riley coming from a mile away. They nodded greetings and removed their caps for the occasion.

“What are you doing here?” Gillian inquired warily.

Officer Cochran shrugged. “Just paying our respects. Like yourself.”

“Actually, we’re just making ourselves available to anyone who might have some information to impart,” Officer Riley explained. “For the sake of the case, as well as for the peace of mind of any family and friends of the deceased who need to see the killer brought to justice.”

“Have you spoken to Simone yet?”

“We couldn’t get a fix on her last name,” Finn Cochran said. “You wanna tell us something?”

“She’s right up there, standing next to Keith, who was Byron’s best friend, I guess. Her last name is Valentine. I saw her signature in the registry at the memorial service.”

“That’s very useful information. We certainly do appreciate your assistance, especially on such a painful day,” officer Riley said thankfully. “Why don’t I go over and introduce myself?”

“You do that,” Officer Cochran agreed. “I’ll just stay here and keep Ms. Swann here company.” After officer Riley departed, Cochran continued, “I’d offer you a hanky, but you don’t really seem to be in need of one.”

It was true that Gillian had not yet shed a single tear over Byron’s death. Still, it was a bit mean for Officer Cochran to point it out. “So, you two have this Good Cop, Bad Cop routine. And you’re Bad Cop.”

Funeral or no, Finn Cochran just couldn’t keep a straight face. He chuckled. “Bad Cop. That’s a good one. I’ll have to tell that one to my girlfriend. She’ll get a kick out of that.”

“She sounds peculiar.”

“I’m an acquired taste.”

His mind wandered off in thought for a moment, and the energy coming out of him shifted from a dark purple to a soft pink. Goodness. If Gillian had to guess, she’d have to say that Bad Cop was awfully fond of his girlfriend.

“You don’t seriously think that I have anything to do Byron’s death?”

Finn Cochran’s colors returned to a dark purple. “I just like to have my questions answered. And I have a question that’s going to bug me night and day until I hear a good answer. How on earth did you know that he was in the trunk?”

“I can’t really blame you for needing to know. And I know that it sounds really bad that I don’t have a good answer to that. But is there any conceivable scenario where I did know that, but wasn’t responsible, or even know who is responsible? Is that a possibility that you’re willing to entertain?”

Officer Cochran shook his head. “I guess I’m pretty hard to keep entertained. Oh, lookie here. We’ve got company.”

Officer Riley and Simone Valentine were headed in their direction. Gillian bristled. She had never wanted to speak to this woman ever again. Why should she? Why was Officer Riley bringing her over?

“I take it you two have already met?”

“That’s her. She’s the one I was just telling you about. She threatened to kill him. I heard it myself. Maybe the neighbors heard it too. She was yelling at the top of her lungs. See if she dares to deny it.”

The cops looked expectantly at Gillian, who looked away sheepishly. “I was having a really bad day. I was just learning about all the lies and what an idiot I had been to think that he cared about me. I can hardly remember what I said that day. Although . . . I may have threatened to kill him. You know, figuratively.”

Officer Riley gestured to his partner. “Ms. Valentine has agreed to come in and make a statement. Shall we?”

Simone and the two cops turned away from the funeral gathering, then Officer Cochran remembered to turn around and address Gillian.

“Ms. Swann? Don’t leave town.”

Although Simone had been downcast during the memorial service and the funeral, she couldn’t suppress a small smile of triumph, which did not go unnoticed by Gillian.

*****

Gillian and Abby had both realized that it was better that Abby not attend the funeral. Byron was at the very top of the list of people she despised. Best for her not to be in the midst of people who were genuinely mourning him. But they met afterward for dinner in a little seafood restaurant, renowned for its scallop risotto. It also had a patio looking right out over the ocean. It was a calming setting. While it didn’t erase the stress of the day, it allowed Gillian to hold it at arm’s length.

“I know I have every reason in the world to be mad at him. But that doesn’t mean that I wanted him dead. Being a lying, cheating jerk doesn’t mean that he deserves to have his life taken away like that. The thing is . . . it’s horrible, right? But it just feels to me like it happened to someone I barely knew. Not someone I was attached to. Not someone I cared about. It’s as if I read about it in the papers and thought to myself, what a shame. What a terrible shame. I hope they catch the killer. And I hope that sale on peaches over at Kroger’s hasn’t ended. Isn’t that awful? I feel so awful that I don’t feel more awful.”

“Have some tiramisu,” Abby urged. “You’ll feel a lot better. Seriously. The connection between you two was a lie. I’m not saying that he deserved to die. But you don’t have to try to manufacture sympathy for a guy who only pretended to love you. And he robbed you blind. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say blind. He pulled the financial rug right out from under you. And getting back on track, giving yourself some security, some peace of mind—that’s where your energy has to go right now.”

“You’re right. But it still feels . . .”

“Sure, I know. It’s because you have such a good heart. But your future without him is going to be better than your past ever was with him. It’s a tragedy for his family and friends, maybe. Maybe. But you go right ahead and think about him as someone you read about in the papers.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Abby. I know this can’t be what you bargained for.”

“Me too, Cuz.”

Gillian smiled at the nickname. As much as she preached self-reliance, it really did feel good to have some kind of family.

“If you don’t mind, could you go home without me? Walking around at night really does help rest my eyes, and it helps me to relax.”

“Sure, no problem. I’ll just wrap my dessert up, go home, pop on a little HBO, and tomorrow, we’ll get the house ready for some lucky new owner.”

“Thanks. Sounds great.”

*****

Even though her last late-night stroll had left her in hot water with the police, Gillian felt the lure of the night, promising peace and restoration. The range of her sight was still vast but it felt controllable. The layers of images were easier to edit, as it were. Just as Delphine had promised, she could actually pull back from seeing so much confusing incoming information.

She was tempted to go back to the woods. What a delightful, refreshing place. But today was a special day, and she had to seek the closure that it deserved. She needed to say her final goodbyes to Byron. Not in front of the police or Simone or his loyal friends or his weeping mother. She needed to stand at his grave and have a heart-to-heart with the man she had shared her life with for such a long time.

It was a long walk. The cat had disappeared for a few hours, but now he was softly padding after her, yet again. Was he there for his own welfare or for hers? He certainly had leapt to her defense in the forest. It was almost as good as having a bodyguard.

They hadn’t quite arrived at the cemetery when the cat started growling. Was his sight as good as hers, or was he capable of premonition? Gillian’s eyes were keen enough to take in a rather shocking event, even though she was so far away the perpetrator couldn’t possibly have been aware of her presence. Someone was digging up Byron’s grave.

*****

Her call to the police got immediate action. Within ten minutes, there were four squad cars and a half-dozen cops surrounding the grave robber. His name was Ezra Yates. He had a long, sharp knife on the ground beside him, but he made no move toward it as the police approached. In fact, he just kept digging.

“His heart! I’m gonna cut out his heart!” he shouted as he was forcibly taken into custody.

Gillian watched as he was put into the police car, and Officer Cochran walked over to her.

“Is he the killer?” she asked.

Finn Cochran cocked his head. “Well, he’s crazy, which makes him a contender.” He looked at Gillian thoughtfully, as if for the first time, he might be ruling her out as the murderer. “We’ll keep in touch.”

Cut out Byron’s heart? Who does that?