Page 24 of What’s Left of Us (What Left #3)

It’s really hard for me to care about the direction that the case is going when it feels like I’ve failed the people who matter most. This is probably why agents aren’t supposed to be emotionally invested in a case, but I’m in this until the end now.

I’m not stepping back when there’s so much Porscha should answer for, and when I have two people who need her brought to justice more than anything else.

Alastair called them lovebirds. That feels fitting of Jo and Vinny.

“Finley says that there are whole posts about him online,” Tyler says as we watch the funeral from afar.

We were present for the short ceremony, but considering it was a closed ceremony there weren’t a lot of people attending, and that’s probably for the better.

I doubt Alastair would want a big, garish affair anyway.

I glance at Tyler, and she tries to give me a smile but it doesn’t work.

The rain has let up in the past few minutes, and we’re standing with the others beside my SUV.

The reporters already left, and the group of Slayer enthusiasts on the other side of the cemetery have thinned out in the last twenty minutes.

All I do is nod. I haven’t said a lot today, and the last thing I want to think about is whatever trash got posted online.

Since Alastair’s death a few weeks ago, he’s become a prominent headline.

Dying while being treated for an injury, outside of prison, at a hospital, when you’re waiting on Death Row draws attention.

It’s amazing how many of the reports focus on his death, gunned down by a local law official, instead of the reasons he was a convicted felon to begin with.

“That’s no surprise,” Jensen says, watching the cemetery.

Jo and Vinny are still standing out there, staring at the coffin.

For a while Emeric and his girlfriend got up and stood with them, but they are moving back to their car now.

I’m not sure anyone can offer the couple the solace they desperately need right now.

My jaw ticks. I talked to Vinny for a minute earlier, but Jo didn’t even acknowledge me. She’s buried in her grief.

“I think they’re coming over here,” Tyler continues, and I follow her gaze. It does look like Emeric and his guest are approaching.

Soto mentioned to me that Emeric booked two tickets to Florida.

One for him, one for Serenity Zimmerman.

I study the couple as they approach. Just like us, the rain has left them soaked; Emeric’s shaggy dark hair clings to his forehead and the back of his neck.

He’s quite a bit taller than the woman he walks with, her blond hair twisted into a bun that looks heavy from the rain.

She kind of reminds me of Jo. I can see the family resemblance in their faces, even the shapes of their noses.

Jo has more of a strawberry reddish tint to her hair, and there’s a harshness in her eyes where life taught her that things are hard.

Serenity is younger, about ten years or so if I remember right from looking into her father Wayne, and there’s a kindness in her gaze that I’ve seen in Jo but she tries to hide.

They come right up to our group, and Gabe straightens with a groan beside me. He’s supposed to be on light duty only, which means desk work, and he keeps trying to convince me he should do more in the field. Attending the funeral, studying the crowd, is as close as he’s going to get.

Emeric surprises me, stepping around everyone else to hold out a hand, and I shake his. He never gave me the impression that he likes me very much, and since he arrived back in Florida we haven’t spoken. We’ve had a lot going on the last week. “Sterling.”

“Emeric,” I say, glancing at Serenity. She’s holding their umbrella, gripping it with both hands as though she expects it to blow away. “My condolences.”

He raises a brow, glancing at the team. I wonder how often he talks to Jo and Vinny. “I’m sure this changed a lot of things for you. Perhaps you’ll make the right decision in the future.”

I narrow my eyes. He’s still holding my hand, but we’re no longer shaking. He’s just holding me here. “Excuse me?”

Emeric raises a brow. His eyes are a little red, but it looks like he’s no longer crying. “My brother’s dead because of this case. And before his execution date. If you can do nothing else, at least make this right.”

His words linger over me as he lets go, and it’s no surprise that Emeric is blaming me. He hasn’t been around for a large portion of the case, and he’s only back in Florida now because his step brother died.

Brother. Not foster. They didn’t see each other that way, even if their step parents abandoned one of them.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him to stay and answer some questions, but not here.

Not at the funeral. Supposedly he should be in town for a couple days, at least that’s the last thing that Vinny mentioned to me when we talked last.

Everything is so fucked up now.

Emeric moves back to Serenity and looks ready to go. But instead of moving with him, she grips the umbrella tighter in her hands and looks around at all of us. “Have you contacted my father?”

Her question surprises me. We’re purposefully not talking about the case right now, and she’s the last one I expected to bring it up. Even Emeric looks like he didn’t expect her to say anything about it. “We’ve spoken with Wayne briefly on several occasions.”

She nods, her dark eyes boring into mine. That’s also the big standout difference between Serenity and Jo. Serenity’s eyes are brown, opposite Jo’s blue ones. “You’re Agent Gideon?”

She’s definitely more formal than Emeric, but I’m not sure if she’s ever been interviewed by a federal agent. “That’s me.”

Serenity glances at Emeric, who looks puzzled as he studies her. “Remember how I wanted to stop by Dad’s place?”

“It was a true displeasure to see Wayne again,” Emeric agrees.

She ignores him as she passes off the umbrella and starts digging through the little black purse on her arm.

“Um, Emeric mentioned some stuff he knows about the case. That Jo-” she interrupts herself, pointing back towards the couple still by the coffin, “-Jo and Vinny relayed. They were going over some facts I think. Mentioned keys?”

Christ, the key detail is something that we’ve been stuck on since before Porscha broke Alastair out. It’s a detail that helps us prove Porscha’s involvement and the ease she had getting to prior victims, but only in the original case.

“There were some keys originally found in the older cases,” Jensen says, speaking while I consider Serenity’s question.

“Yeah, Jo said her mom used to cut them,” Serenity agrees, and I glance at Gabe beside me.

She doesn’t have the same contempt in her voice when she mentions Porscha like everyone else does, and I wonder what she knows.

“Anyway, it made me think of this picture that Dad always had hanging in one of the halls. It’s one of the only ones he had of his parents and his sister. He doesn’t talk about Porscha much.”

Emeric shields the paper she pulls out, and I take it when she hands it over, still dry. Flipping it over, a much younger Porscha looks back at me.

This is when her hair was still natural blond, her face full of youth.

There’s a lack of wildness in her eyes, and she almost looks bored sitting for the photograph.

It looks like one of those staged family shoots inside a store, with a grey-black background and everyone giving the camera a forced smile.

I’ve seen pictures of Porscha’s relatives. She looks more like her mother, who had bouncy blond hair. Wayne has dark hair like their father did. Aside from the familiar similarities though, one thing draws my attention.

A gold key around her neck. It’s a necklace on a thin gold chain, and clashes with the rest of the picture where no one else has any jewelry showing.

“That looks like the keys found at some of the crime scenes,” Tyler says, peering at the picture with me.

“It’s from 1991,” Serenity says, and I glance up at her again. “It’s on the back of the picture. I just thought what Emeric said about keys sounded familiar, and I remembered the picture from Dad’s house so I thought I’d bring it to you.”

“You could’ve taken a picture of the picture,” Emeric points out, but he doesn’t sound upset. Maybe confused.

“I don’t know if it means anything,” she continues, looking around. “But I thought maybe it could help? And Dad just complains when he sees it, so I don’t think he’ll miss it very much.”

Nodding, I take the picture and tuck it into an interior pocket. The rain is finally slowing down to little more than a sprinkle, but the clouds are still dark and dreary above us. “Thank you. This could be helpful.”

Serenity smiles at the same time Emeric gives me a skeptical look. He’s slightly more familiar with the FBI, and he’s smart enough to know that what I’m saying means this could be inconsequential to the case. But, if the photo is from ‘91, Porscha should be pregnant with Jo.

Instead of walking away, Serenity steps closer and takes my hand. I expect her to shake it, but she leans in and stands on her toes. I hesitate, glancing at Emeric who just watches us, and lean in when she points to my ear.

“I’m sorry for your loss, too,” she whispers, dropping back onto her heels as quickly as the words leave her lips. Then she gives me another smile, grabs Emeric’s hand, and leads him away beneath the umbrella.

“What did she say?” Jensen asks, turning to me. I watch the couple go, wondering if Serenity has any idea at all the darkness hiding within her family.

Pressing my lips together, I glance back towards Jo and Vinny. She’s no longer kneeling in front of the coffin, instead the couple is walking the other way towards their car.

“She just asked me to be careful with the photo,” I say, turning back to the SUV. “Come on. We have to end this case.”