Page 16 of Ghost of You (Haunted Souls #24)

Our Lady of the Sea was full to bursting.

Cope and the others had gotten to the church early, knowing there would be a lot of people who’d want to be in attendance for Frankie’s funeral, not all of them with the purest intentions.

There were people who wanted to see the drama of grief, others who hoped a fight would break out.

Cope also knew there was a very real possibility that Frankie’s killer would be in the building.

Fitzgibbon had gathered the detectives, along with Cope and Tennyson the night before to put together a game plan. He’d asked the psychics to gather as much information as they could, while the detectives kept an eye on Oliver Adams, Frankie’s parents, and the people who interacted with them.

Cope, for his part, wasn’t a fan of using his gift in loud, crowded places.

Malls, airports, department stores, and churches were hell for him.

It felt like being in an appliance store with all the televisions and radios turned up to full blast. Sometimes it was hard to differentiate who was thinking what.

Thankfully, the good thing about the funeral, from a psychic standpoint, would be that once the service started, the noise would pipe down and he’d be better able to concentrate.

“God, I hate wearing this fucking tie!” Jude tugged at the knot and squirmed on the hard, wooden pew.

Cope pushed down from his husband, leaving several feet between them.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jude asked, sounding even more annoyed than he had seconds ago.

“I don’t want to get hit by second hand lightning.”

Jude raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think I’m going to get hit by lightning?”

“You took the name of the Lord in vain and you said ‘fuck’ in church.” Cope groaned when he realized he’d done the same thing.

“Um, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” Jude raised a questioning eyebrow.

Cope slid back down the pew. “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” They were sitting in the fifth row to the left of the casket.

Oliver and Frankie’s family would be seated in front of them when the service got underway.

Ronan and Ten were further back on the right side and Cope hadn’t seen Fitz since they’d gotten out of the SUV.

“You mean aside from the fact that Frankie’s parents won’t even look at Oliver?”

“They think he killed their daughter. Thankfully, both of them are easy to read. Grief does that. All you can think about is your loss and with that, your guard goes down.”

“What about Oliver, is his guard down?” Jude looked as if he already knew the answer to that question.

Cope closed his eyes and attempted to zero in on Oliver.

Cope shivered. “He’s not grieving, Jude.

This is the last place he wants to be and he’s sick and tired of people offering condolences.

He just wants to go home, call out for pizza, and hang out with-” Cope gasped. What he was seeing was unexpected.

“Angie Melton, Frankie’s best friend.” Jude said.

Cope’s eyes popped open. “How did you know that?”

“They’re standing together beside the coffin.” Jude angled his chin toward Oliver. “She’s rubbing his back.”

“Why?” Cope asked, feeling as thunderstruck as he sounded.

“Oliver is the top suspect in her best friend’s murder.

Why would she be with him instead of Frankie’s parents?

” Thankfully, Cope hadn’t ever been in a situation like this, but he liked to think that if he was, he would be on the side of the parents, not the potential killer.

“I wouldn’t touch him if he were the last man on earth.

” Cope knew Oliver was innocent until proven guilty in the eyes of the law.

In his eyes, Oliver was guilty until proven innocent, and the way he was leaning close to Angie kept Cope’s needle firmly on guilty.

“Murder makes strange bedfellows,” Jude said. He looked as if he had something more to say, but paused when his phone buzzed. “It’s Ronan. ‘WTF is up with Oliver and Angie?’ I guess we’re not the only ones who noticed what’s going on.”

Cope sighed. This was going to be a long day and the funeral hadn’t even started yet. “I’m sure they’re just banding together for Frankie’s sake.”

“Seriously?” Jude asked, his thumbs flying over his phone’s keyboard. “They’re boning each other,” he said quietly, obviously not wanting anyone else to hear him. “Ten agrees.”

“Does he agree because he can see it or because them being together like this looks bad?” Cope thought it looked more than just bad. It was rude and inconsiderate.

“A little bit of both, according to Ronan. He also said he hasn’t seen anything else suspicious.” Jude wore a disappointed look.

“Where is Fitz?” Cope asked, turning to look behind him. According to his father, Buford, you weren’t supposed to turn around in church, but he supposed it didn’t matter much now that his father wasn’t there to box his ears.

“He’s outside with the mourners still filing into the church.

Service is supposed to start in five minutes.

Knowing Fitz, he’ll stay at the back of the church in case there’s trouble or someone tries to make a break for it.

There are several undercovers from the SPD in the crowd.

I’ve already seen three of them.” Jude’s attention was still firmly focused on Oliver. “Oh, shit, here we go!”

Cope looked up in time to see Oliver step up to the coffin and drape himself over it. Cope could hear wailing.

“What the hell are you doing?” An angry sounding Dante Conti shouted. He stalked toward Frankie’s coffin, his hands fisted at his side. “It’s your fault Frankie is lying in this box. Get away from her now.”

Oliver continued to wail. Cope focused his attention on the man, needing to know if his wailing was authentic or an Oscar-worthy performance.

Shutting his eyes, Cope reached out to Oliver and was flooded with emotions.

“It’s fake,” he muttered. “Gonna look good on the news. Pointing cops away from him. He knows you’re all here.

” What he saw next was most definitely going to get Oliver punched in the face.

In his mind’s eye, he saw Angie riding Oliver, screaming through her climax.

He'd hate to be their neighbor in the summer with the windows open. The scene flashed again. More sex, this time in a car in the pouring rain, with a woman who wasn’t Frankie or Angie.

Trying to delve deeper into Oliver’s mind, Cope was interrupted by shouts and a scream.

His eyes opened just in time to see Frankie’s father take a swing at Oliver, whose face was already red, presumably from crying, but Cope knew better.

Oliver had done this to himself, most probably from holding his breath between wails.

The smack of Dante’s fist into Oliver’s face echoed throughout the church.

Oliver stumbled backward into Angie’s arms. When he regained his footing, he looked like he was going to charge at Dante, but several uniformed members of the SPD swooped in to pull the two men apart.

“Sweet Jesus,” Jude muttered. “There’s something you don’t see every day, people punching each other at a funeral.”

“Oliver deserved it.” Cope said quietly.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Jude asked.

Cope shook his head. “I don’t know for certain if Oliver killed Frankie, but he was cheating on her left, right, and sideways. I just saw the highlight reel of his sex life.” Cope shivered. “I need a hot shower with a bucket of soap.”

“Looks like both men are being allowed to stay.” Jude pointed toward the front of the church where the Conti’s were being led back to their seats to the right of the casket, while Oliver was being ushered to the left side seats that were usually reserved for people who would be doing readings or giving the eulogy.

Jude’s phone buzzed again. “Ronan is asking if Fitz wants to pick Oliver up after the mass is over.”

“He doesn’t,” Cope said. Kevin Fitzgibbon was the easiest person Cope had ever read. He leaked information like a sieve. He wished Oliver Adams was as easy to delve into as the captain.

“You’re right,” Jude agreed, his eyes glued to his phone screen. “Fitz wants us to see Ambrose first. Then Angie. He likes the idea of Oliver having to sweat it out.”

Cope knew from experience that people were more likely to spill their guts when they were stressed and anxious.

Oliver was filled with both, alongside a healthy dose of fear.

“I’m looking forward to speaking with Angie.

I can’t get much of a read on her right now.

She’s pissed at Frankie’s parents and Oliver.

She keeps going back and forth between them. ”

“That makes no sense,” Jude said. “According to what Dante Conti told us, Frankie and Angela had been friends since middle school. You’d think she’d be on their side in this.”

“It feels more like she’s angry that Oliver made such a bold plea for pity and that Dante rose to the bait.

” Cope didn’t understand Angie’s place in this drama at all.

She’d had a long chat with the Conti’s earlier in the morning that ended with hugs all around.

Now, she was trying to soothe and console Oliver.

Cope had been out of his mind with grief when his mother, Elizabeth, died, but he hadn’t gone as far as to fling himself on her coffin.

People grieved differently and sometimes, not at all.

He supposed that after a time, Oliver had come to grips with the fact that Frankie was gone and wasn’t coming back.

It must have been a huge shock to his system when her remains were discovered.

Whether from the shock of Frankie actually being dead or the fact that he’d been the one to kill her and leave her body in the forest, remained to be seen.