He filed the thought away for later and backed out of the parking space without checking the backup camera. His time at MINERVA would be short lived, no matter whom he ran down in the parking lot. He’d have to call Brendan Shea sooner than later and explain why he couldn’t leave the greater DC area. When the circumstances surrounding his mother’s death surfaced . . . they’d be forced to let him go. His mother was the gift that kept on giving.

PART II

PART II

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

Devin checked his watch. Two minutes later than the last time he’d looked. Ten minutes until the viewing ended. The hushed sound of feet brushing across carpet somewhere behind them turned his head. His sister didn’t budge, her eyes locked on a point somewhere above their mother’s closed coffin. Same expression for the last hour and fifty minutes. Indifferent. Dad pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sighed, turning to Devin for any sign it may be a guest paying their last respects. He didn’t have it in him to look for himself and be disappointed. They’d had one visitor, an old friend and almost girlfriend of Devin’s, who’d sat behind them for ten minutes before heading out.

The funeral home director, a tall, long-faced elderly gentleman whom Devin remembered from every wake and funeral he’d attended here, going back decades, paused by the guest book located on a small table just inside the room and gave it a quick look. He glanced in Devin’s direction and nodded almost imperceptibly before stepping out of the room.

Kari had been right. The whole thing should have been a quick graveside memorial service. Fifteen minutes at the cemetery—just the three of them and a minister. They hadn’t expected anyone to show up, not after the grisly details of Helen’s rampage made the news. But attendance hadn’t been the point.

Their dad had insisted Helen get a full memorial, regardless of the circumstances. A wake, funeral service, and interment. At first Devin had resisted, firmly in his sister’s camp, but he eventually relented. Mom deserved to be recognized for her entire life’s accomplishments, not the tragic consequences of the treacherous illness that had so unfairly twisted her mind. He still remembered the good times. They were pretty vague as an adult, but the picture books at the house had brought it all back. Honoring the Helen Gray they had all once known was the point.