Page 28 of The Couple’s Secret (Detective Josie Quinn #23)

Twenty-Four

Riley wept as the pastor read several bible passages.

She leaned into her husband and Jackson slipped an arm around her protectively.

Pain was etched across his face, but he kept his emotions tightly controlled.

Zane held one of Riley’s hands and stared straight ahead.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he was as still as a statue.

The pastor asked if the family wanted to say a few words.

Riley shook her head and sobbed into Jackson’s chest. An awkward silence stretched on, filled only with the happy chirping of birds.

The sound was perverse given the circumstances.

Finally, Hollis raised a hand. “I’ll say a few words. ”

“Thanks, man,” Jackson said huskily, eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Zane nodded his approval.

Hollis lumbered toward the pastor. Tucking the loose tail of his dress shirt into his pants, he began speaking.

It was clear he hadn’t prepared anything.

He rambled on for ten minutes, talking about how he knew the couple and their children.

While his impromptu eulogy was meandering, the stories he told about Tobias and Cora painted a vivid picture of how good-hearted and kind they’d been.

Many people in the crowd murmured their agreement.

Finally, he finished with a nod to Jackson, Riley, and Zane.

They mumbled thank-yous as he returned to his seat.

As he wiped more sweat from his face, the pastor concluded the service.

Zane and Jackson helped Riley stand. A cemetery worker handed them each two carnations—one red and one white—for them to place atop the caskets. Hollis lingered, waiting his turn.

Then Dalton strode forward, drawing up next to Jackson and holding his palm out for flowers. Riley slowly swiveled her head in his direction. Her mouth dropped open, and her legs wobbled. Hollis moved toward him, but Jackson got there first, pressing a large palm flat against Dalton’s chest.

“You have some fucking nerve, asshole,” he said, voice low and menacing. “How dare you show up here?”

“I have every right to be at my wife’s funeral,” Dalton sneered.

They were out of earshot of the rest of the mourners but a few people in the front of the crowd caught on to the tension, craning their necks and shuffling closer to try to hear the exchange.

“Charming,” Gretchen said under her breath and Josie knew she was remembering all the fractures Dalton had given Cora in the years they were married.

It was a miracle that she’d survived his abuse—and leaving him.

With his free hand, Jackson tucked Riley behind him. Zane stepped forward, hugging her to his chest and guiding her to the opposite side of the tent, closer to where Josie stood with Gretchen and Fanning.

“Cora wasn’t your wife,” Jackson said. “She was engaged to our father and let’s face it, even when you were married to her, you weren’t a husband. You barely qualify as a human being.”

“Gentlemen.” The pastor moved closer until he was nearly between them. A strained smile was plastered across his face.

“Jacks,” Hollis said.

Dalton puffed his chest out, pushing against Jackson’s palm. “I have a right to see my daughter.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“This guy never did know when to quit,” Fanning muttered under his breath.

Jackson’s face hardened. His fury was like a thundercloud, rolling off him, enveloping everyone under the tent.

Hollis clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it, son.”

There was a rustling in the crowd as several of the reporters and their crews muscled their way through the throngs of people, trying to get closer. A couple of the plainclothes officers began weaving their way toward the front with far more finesse than the journalists.

“What’s going on?” someone on the hill said. “What’s happening?”

The people near the front surged forward, almost touching the backs of the chairs, despite the cemetery workers trying to maintain some space.

“Sir,” the pastor said to Dalton. “This is not the time or the place.”

A slow smile spread across Dalton’s face. Ignoring the pastor, he told Jackson, “Last time I checked, my daughter was an adult and not your prisoner. You can’t keep me away from her.”

Jackson’s fingers curled, clutching a handful of Dalton’s shirt. “I can and I will. Riley doesn’t want anything to do with you. Ever. So do yourself a favor and leave. Don’t contact her. Don’t come near her. Don’t even think about her. Forget she exists.”

“Or what?”

Hollis tightened his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “That’s enough. Dalton, don’t make a scene. If you want to?—”

His words were cut off by Riley’s ear-piercing shrieks. “Stop it! Just stop it! I don’t want you here! Nobody wants you here! Leave us alone! Just leave us alone! I hate you! I’ve always hated you! It should be you! It should be you in that coffin. I wish it was. Get out, get out, get out!”

The shock that tore through the crowd was a physical thing, like a groundswell. One reporter started pushing mourners roughly out of the way, snapping at her cameraman to hurry up.

“Oh shit,” Fanning said.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Riley’s voice was high and shrill, carrying across the cemetery with perfect clarity.

The murmurs of the crowd became a buzz. More reporters pushed through, trying to reach the bottom of the hill, with no regard to those around them. One woman stumbled and fell when a camera bumped her shoulder. People started shouting.

Finally, the plainclothes officers were there, stomping forward, taking Dalton’s arms just as Jackson pushed him backward.

“It should have been you who died!” Riley screamed, twisting and flailing in Zane’s arms.

“What a shitshow,” Fanning said.

Hollis used his grip on Jackson’s shoulder to spin him toward his wife. Zane let her go and she sprang forward, rushing toward Dalton. Jackson caught her around the waist. She pointed a finger at her father. “You should be the one in the ground! I wish it was you! I hate you!”

One reporter made it through the throng with her cameraman who was filming the entire exchange. The crowd went chillingly silent, leaving only birdsong, and the sound of Riley’s angry cries.

Until Dalton laughed.

Riley glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. “How dare you.”

Dalton lurched forward, managing to free one of his arms from the officers holding him. He reached for Riley. Hollis stepped between them. Dalton registered the move, fisted his hand, and punched Hollis. The blow glanced off his chin, snapping his head back.

The entire thing unfolded in a matter of seconds.

Josie and Gretchen started to move forward in tandem, their bodies reacting to the threat before their minds could catch up to the fact that this wasn’t their jurisdiction.

Fanning threw out his arms, barring them.

It was just as well since the plainclothes officers had Dalton on his stomach, cinching his wrists with zip ties.

“He just went from disorderly conduct to simple assault,” said Gretchen.

He’d be in a holding cell within the hour. If Hollis decided to press charges, Dalton would be detained, processed, and possibly arraigned.

“You think I’m shit but your mom, she had secrets, Riley,” he shouted as he was dragged away. “She wasn’t the saint you all make her out to be! It’s time you knew.”

Hollis rubbed his chin and turned back to Riley. “Sorry, Ri.”

Jackson loosened his grip on her waist so she could go to Hollis. She reached up and touched his chin. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, kiddo. I’m just sorry he had to ruin this, and saying stupid shit like that…”

Riley shook her head. “He knows I won’t have anything to do with him and he hates it. He’ll say anything to get my attention.”

Jackson said, “She’s right. He’s just trying to get under her skin.”

“But Ri won’t let him,” Zane piped up.

“That’s right,” she said, lifting her chin proudly. “And I’m not letting him take another thing from my mom. Let’s lay her and Tobias to rest and never think about that asshole ever again.”

Hollis joined the kids around the caskets. They kept their backs to the crowd as they composed themselves before finally placing flowers on the coffins.

The press continued to push forward, cameras trained on the final farewells, invading a moment that should have been private.

Except that nothing about the lives of Tobias and Cora had been private since their disappearance, since the public had become morbidly fascinated with what had happened to them.

In minutes, the videos of the confrontation next to the caskets would be on the internet.

They’d probably go viral. Josie was watching the hungry reporters so closely, she didn’t notice Hollis ambling over until he was only a foot away from them.

“Thank you for coming,” he said. “Even you, Fanning.”

John smiled insincerely. “Right.”

With an exasperated sigh, Hollis added, “It meant a lot to the kids. They know how hard you worked on the case, okay? So let’s just call a truce for today.”

Chastened, Fanning nodded. “Of course.”

Hollis turned to Josie and Gretchen. “Zane told me he’d give you two a tour of the house but with the press…The kids are going to head to Denton. All of them.”

“Unfortunately, the press will be there as well,” Josie said.

“Yeah, but there aren’t as many people there for them to cull for interviews. People who knew Tobias, Cora, the kids. All of us.”

He wasn’t wrong. The press would expect the kids to stick around. Heading right to Denton might buy them a precious day or two before the full onslaught of reporters descended again.

“We can tour the house another time,” Josie offered.

“Oh no,” Hollis said. “Zane wants to do it while you’re here, but do you think you could meet us there in about an hour? We had planned to have a luncheon at the diner, but I think it’s too much for them. They’re going to pack and get out of town but if you come now, Zane will show you around.”

Gretchen said, “Will you be pressing charges against Dalton?”

Hollis lifted a brow. “Of course.”

To Josie, she said, “Then he won’t be going anywhere for the next few hours.”

“Perfect,” Josie replied. “We’ll see you at the house, Mr. Merritt.”