“She’s going to do this once,” Ricky said. “If you don’t let her finish, she’ll get in this car and you’ll have nothing, because she’s not answering your questions or—” He spun on a young woman, slipping up beside him with her recorder. “You! Get the hell back now.”

She scrambled away so fast you’d think he’d pulled a gun. Which is probably what they expected for the encore.

“Anyone else gets that close?” Ricky said. “We leave.” He turned to me, his voice lowered. “Go on.”

I gave my statement. Gabriel had been arrested for James’s murder. It was obviously a trumped-up charge, stemming from ongoing animosity between Gabriel and the police. The fact that they felt the need to dramatically arrest him at the funeral proved it. I felt guilty saying that after the officers had been relatively decent about how they carried out their orders, but it was the slant Gabriel would put on it.

I went on to express my dismay and anger at the fact that James’s service had been disrupted. I was appalled by the way the police—and media—had disrespected his memory. I made it absolutely clear that I supported Gabriel and that I had no doubt he’d be released quickly.

When I finished, Ricky said, “We’ll take Gabriel’s car. Do you want to drive?”

I shook my head. He reached for the passenger-door handle.

“Olivia!”

When I heard that voice, I froze.

“Go on,” Ricky murmured, the door open. “Get in and we’ll take off.”

I wanted to. But if I’d come to pay my respects to James, there was no way I could turn my back on the woman making her way toward me through the crowd.

Even before I started dating her son, Maura Morgan had barely tolerated me at family gatherings. “Poor Lena,” I’d heard her whisper when I was twelve. “That girl of hers is . . . well, she’s a little odd, don’t you think? Too headstrong by far. It’s her father’s influence. Arthur’s a smart businessman, but his manners leave something to be desired.”

When James and I got together, you would have thought he’d taken up with the town whore. Give it a few months, she must have thought, and he’d be done with his fling and settle down. When he decided to settle down with the unsuitable girl, Maura decided I wasn’t a whore after all. I was a gold digger.

I’d never let her drag me into a fight, but I had always stood up to her. Nothing she could do or say would change how James felt about me, and I’d reminded myself that, after her divorce, her son was all she had left. I was a threat to that relationship. So I felt sorry for her, which was particularly satisfying, knowing how much she’d loathe my pity.