A Beautiful Funeral
Page 39The boys began to tear up, and Travis kneeled in front of them. “Uncle Tommy was in an accident.”
Hollis’s cheeks flushed red. “I know, but … he’s in the hospital.”
“He was. Now, we’re going to have a funeral for him so we can say goodbye.” Travis choked on the last words, cupped Hollis’s shoulders, and looked away. He felt like a monster. So did I.
Hollis hugged his father, and then everyone began hugging. Camille tried to hug Trenton, but he gently raised his hand, letting her know he needed a minute.
“These Carlisis,” Trenton said. “They’re the ones we’re hiding from?”
“Not anymore,” I said. “We just received word the last of them left town during the night.”
“Why?” Trenton asked. He was getting angrier.
“Because they’ve gotten word that I’ve decided against pursuing this case. Abby’s father was in protective custody before the trial of some of their higher ups, but he’s gone missing. The Bureau no longer has a case against them.”
“You’re no longer involved in the case?” Camille asked. “You’re going to let them get away with it?”
I swallowed, trying hard not to feel defensive. “I’m a widow with a newborn. I have to concentrate on Stella.”
Camille covered her mouth with both hands, and Trenton broke down. Soon, everyone in the room was sobbing, even the children.
Travis hugged his twins. “Let’s go see your mom.” He guided them out of the room, leaving me alone with his family. I watched him with my mouth open, pleading with my eyes for him to stay. He wiped his eyes. “I’ll be back.”
I rocked Stella. She was already content and asleep, but I was really just comforting myself.
Camille hugged him, but then he slipped away from her grasp, wiping his eyes and staring at the floor. I watched the Maddoxes hit every state of grief within minutes and more than once.
“Liis,” Ellie said, kneeling in front of me.
I shook my head, letting her know that, although appreciated, I wasn’t receptive to sympathy. I didn’t deserve it, and that would just be another item on the list to hate me for later.
Travis returned. Jessica and James snuggled with their Uncle Trenton. “She’s finally sleeping,” he said. “When she wakes up, I’m going to take her to see Carter. Agent Davies, Wren, and Blevins will escort you home.”
“So that’s it?” Trenton asked. “We’re free to go?”
“You’re free to go,” Travis said.
“I’ll get Dad,” Camille said. She seemed in a daze, unable to process the last twenty-four hours.
I could see that Trenton wanted to spit an insult at his brother, but he remembered Travis’s twins were on each side of him. He kissed Jessica and James on the forehead and then stood, gesturing for Olive to come with him.
“Shep,” Travis began.
“Yes. We’ll take the twins,” he said without hesitation.
“Thanks,” Travis said.
Shepley nodded, helping America herd the kids and fold blankets. After Trenton had left with Jim, Camille, and Olive, Shepley and America followed with their boys, Jessica and James, and Jack and Deana. One by one, our numbers dwindled, and then it was just Travis and me with Stella and our protection detail.
“Well,” Val said, joining him. “The worst of it is over.”
“No, it’s not over,” Travis snapped. “The worst is looking them in the face and telling them I lied … again. Trenton’s definitely going to take a swing, and I’m going to let him do it.”
“I’m hoping they’ll be so happy that they’ll forget what we’ve done. Otherwise, they’ll never speak to us again,” I said.
“Yeah, they will,” Travis said.
I craned my neck at him. “Would you?”
He looked down and frowned. “I don’t know what I’d do.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
FALYN
AS SOON AS WE ARRIVED AT JIM’S, we all showered and changed, and then reconvened back downstairs. My phone had been buzzing for the last hour, but I already knew who it was. Peter Lacy had received his first response from me that morning, telling him if he didn’t stop contacting me, I would file a complaint with the Estes Park Police Department. Somehow, that only entertained him more.
Taylor and Tyler were in a daze, sitting at the dining room table staring at their clasped hands. I put my phone on silent and shoved it in my back pocket. I didn’t want to turn it off in case Travis and Abby or Liis needed anything, but a part of me seriously weighed that against the possibility of Taylor discovering Peter was still trying to contact me. In his current state of mind, I didn’t know how he would react. I definitely didn’t want a scene in front of Alyssa.
Jim was asleep in his bedroom, Alyssa was on watch in the living room, and the kids were upstairs watching a movie, leaving the four of us to grieve alone. I wanted to hold Taylor, to touch him. He was my husband, for God’s sake, but pride kept my hands in my lap. We had been living by my rules since I’d left, rules I felt needed to be followed as a lesson for Taylor to learn. It wasn’t fair to send mixed signals in order to comfort him.
The house was quiet, only the occasional creaking of the walls from the foundation settling. I tried not to think about Alyssa being in the next room, but it was impossible. It was easier to let my mind worry about things I could somewhat control. The coffeepot beeped, and everyone suddenly awakened from their motionless state.
Tyler drank his black, but I knew to search for cream and sugar for Taylor. As I opened each cabinet, I noticed items in strange places, and then I paused, seeing an ice tray next to the spices. I pulled it out, and water sloshed, startling me.
“Oh!” I cried.
Alyssa jogged in. “Everything all right?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
I flung the water from my hands and then wiped the excess on my pants. “I didn’t realize Jim was keeping the ice trays in the cabinet.”
Alyssa wrinkled her nose. “Pardon?”
“Nothing,” I said, refilling the tray and placing it in the freezer.
Alyssa nodded, turning for the living room, but then she paused. “I admit that I asked for this assignment.”
I stared at her. “I’m … not really sure how to respond to that.”
“I’ve been curious about Hollis for a while but especially after you left Taylor.”
My face twisted into disgust. “You’ve been keeping tabs on us?”
She shrugged, unapologetic. “You have my son.”
“My son,” I said. “I’ve raised him. I’ve sat up with him countless nights pressing a cold cloth to his forehead when he was sick. I’ve made him breakfast every morning, his birthday cakes every year, and rocked him to sleep every night until he was six. I was there for his first day of school and when he kicked a soccer ball into his first goal. He’s my son.”