Brynne came down the aisle, wearing a soft-looking navy blue dress and a white straw hat with a matching band. Fred, Sr., turned in his seat to glare at her, and she nodded politely, taking a seat beside Eric.

Other locals trailed in—Miranda, a longtime fixture at Bailey’s and in the town in general. Deputy Amos Edwards and his wife, Alec and Sam Wu and Alec’s physician daughter, Marisol.

Ranchers and farmers came, along with a contingent from Sully’s Bar and Grill and even a half dozen of the thugs Freddie had hung out with at the pinnacle of his criminal career, such as it was.

Most of these people were there out of simple kindness, not affection for Freddie, his memory or his parents. At least a few had come for a whole different reason—to see for themselves that young Mr. Lansing was in the box.

Not that the casket was open. Freddie wasn’t looking his best these days; the flowers, in Eli’s opinion, might well be there to hold the lid down.

Once again, he returned his attention to Fred, Sr., and Gretchen.

They looked sad, no doubt about that.

They also looked angry.

Fury buzzed around them, a discernible vibration, nearly audible.

Mr. Lansing’s face was ravaged with grief, wet with tears he probably wasn’t aware of shedding, but he exuded hatred. Gretchen looked even angrier, but her eyes were dry, focused like lasers on her son’s casket.

Maybe she’d already cried all the tears she had inside her.

Whatever state she was in, Eli wouldn’t have been surprised if she leaped to her feet, whirled on the gathering of dutifully sympathetic folks and screeched at them like a banshee. She must have known, after all, that they weren’t there because they missed Freddie; they’d come because it was the right thing, the kind thing, to do.

Given the boy’s track record, it was hard to imagine how Gretchen—or her husband—could expect anything more.

And there he went again, expecting folks like them to be reasonable.

Never gonna happen.

“I’m going to be real glad when this is over,” Dan said, without looking away from the monitor. His eyes moved constantly from one panel to another. “Those are two of the worst people I’ve ever run across—and that, my friend, is saying something—but damned if I don’t feel sorry as hell for them.”

“I know what you mean,” Eli agreed. His gaze had strayed back to Brynne; she was stunningly beautiful, even in the gloomy light of a funeral home chapel, and the sight of her was soothing. Just by being there, she tamed something wild inside him, something reckless and primitive.

Dan wasn’t done talking. “I almost wish I’d stayed with the kids. This is your case, after all, not mine.”