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“Understood.” That was about all I could actually manage to come up with that wasn’t ‘Fuck you.’ I took a breath, pushing down the rage. “And the case file?” I asked.

“We’re not in the habit of giving case files to civilians, Mr. Hart. Even private investigators.”

Well, that told me he’d looked me up. Shit. “I see,” is what I said.

“Please tell the younger Mr. Crane that he can arrange to have his father’s remains transferred to the funeral home during business hours tomorrow.”

“I will do that,” I managed.

“Goodbye, Mr. Hart. And tell Mr. Crane he has my sympathies for his loss.” Then he hung up.

Fuck.

I needed to go back into the office, to be there for Elliot, but I needed a few minutes to bring down my rage levels.

I told myself I’d known it was going to be ruled a suicide. Iknewthat. It shouldn’t have hit me the way it had. We’d been expecting it.

Fuck if it didn’t still hurt like an absolute bitch.

So I took a couple deep breaths, and then I texted Ward.

Official cause of death ruled suicide. Any chance you can help with that?I knew he’d called in suicides as homicides before. He’d done it once to me, in fact.

I was about to go back into the office when my phone buzzed.

I’ll call it in.

Thanks, I texted back.But maybe after the funeral?Elliot didn’t need another shitshow on top of the one we were already dealing with. One thing at a time, if we could manage it.

When is that?he asked.

Saturday.

I’ll call Monday. Okay?

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

It might not do anything. In fact, it probably wouldn’t do anything, but if a medium stated that a supposed suicide was actually the victim of a homicide, it might—just might—get enough attention from a halfway decent detective to get another look before the file got closed forever.

It was a long shot, though. Especially considering Ward was in Virginia, while we were all the way the fuck up here in Shawano, Wisconsin. It was a move I hadn’t wanted to play if I didn’t have to because it meant that who I was and what I did—and probably the fact that I was an ex-cop—would become public knowledge at the Shawano PD.

That’s when shit was likely to get really ugly. Because I wasn’t going to let it go. I couldn’t. I owed it to both Elliot and Gregory.

I took one more deep breath and walked back into the funeral director’s office. Elliot looked up at me when I walked in, and there was a question on his face. The part that felt like a particularly brutal sucker punch, though, was the fact that I could see hope in the lines of his expression, and I had to crush it. I pressed my lips together and shook my head once, feeling vaguely nauseous as I watched the hope on his face fold in on itself, crumpling and dying as the spark left his eyes.

Fuck.

To demonstrate just how much of a selfish prick I am, my next thought was how much I wished Taavi were here with me. I wanted to curl up in his arms, my head on his chest, let his heartbeat soothe away the pain and grief.

But Taavi was at my parents’ house, putting up with whatever my mother was making him do—probably helping her sort out the reception details—and I was here, watching Elliot’s heart break.

Elliot didn’t say anything, though. Didn’t do anything more dramatic than let out a small sigh and turn back to the funeral director. If you didn’t know him like I did, you wouldn’t realize the stabbing pain I’d just inflicted with that tiny shake of my head.

It took another hour or so to iron out all the details—to set a time to come in early Saturday before the funeral to paint Gregory’s skin red under the supervision of one of the mortuary assistants, to make the arrangements for the funeral itself, to figure out a payment plan for all of it. Because as long as Gregory’s death was ruled a suicide, Elliot wasn’t going to see a dime of his dad’s admittedly modest life insurance.

Elliot claimed that he didn’t want any money. That he didn’t care about the insurance. And I knew he would have traded however much money it was in exchange for having his father back—no question. But I also knew that while he made enough to cover his own bills, the cost of a full funeral was going to hit hard, and the insurance would have meant that at least he wouldn’t have to go into debt over it.