2: The Funeral Lie

Sarah's pov

The funeral parlor smelled like flowers and death. I sat in the front row staring at Tommy's closed casket, trying to remember him alive instead of the way I'd seen him at the crime scene. The mortician had done his best but two gunshots to the chest left damage that makeup couldn't fix.

I wore my black dress, the one I kept for occasions like this. Police work meant attending too many funerals already and adding my brother's to the list felt wrong on every level. The chapel was half full with people from Tommy's recovery program, a few neighbors from his apartment complex, and some distant relatives who showed up because they felt obligated.

"Sarah, how are you holding up?"

I turned to see Marcus Webb sliding into the pew beside me. He wore a dark suit and had that concerned expression he used when dealing with victims' families. Marcus was a good man, someone who actually cared about the people behind the cases instead of just closing files and moving on.

"I'm managing," I said, which was a lie. I wasn't managing anything. I was barely keeping myself together long enough to get through this service without breaking down completely.

"Any updates on the investigation?"

Marcus glanced around to make sure no one was listening then leaned closer. "We're following up on the Steel Vultures connection. Found three witnesses who saw motorcycles in that area the night Tommy died. Working on getting descriptions of the riders."

"That's something at least."

"Sarah, I know this is hard but you need to let me handle this case. I've been working organized crime for fifteen years and these motorcycle clubs don't mess around. They've killed people for asking the wrong questions."

I nodded like I was agreeing with him but inside I was already planning. Marcus was a good detective but he didn't have the same motivation I did. This was just another case for him. For me it was everything.

The service started with some generic words from a minister who'd never met Tommy. He talked about eternal rest and God's plan, all the standard things people say when someone dies young. I stopped listening and let my mind wander to the note I'd found in Tommy's apartment.

Trust no one. They're watching you.

Who was watching him and why? Tommy wasn't involved in anything dangerous as far as I knew. He'd been clean for six months, going to meetings, looking for legitimate work. The Steel Vultures didn't just randomly target people. There had to be a connection I wasn't seeing yet.

"Would anyone like to share memories of Thomas?"

The minister's question brought me back to the present. A few people from his recovery group stood up and talked about Tommy's sense of humor, his determination to get clean, his kindness to newcomers at meetings. Their words painted a picture of someone who'd been trying hard to rebuild his life after addiction nearly destroyed it.

When it was my turn to speak, I walked to the front and looked out at the small crowd. These people had known Tommy in his recovery, but I'd known him his whole life.

"Tommy was my baby brother," I began, my voice steadier than I expected. "When our parents died seven years ago, he was just a kid trying to deal with grief he didn't understand. The drugs were his way of numbing the pain, but lately he'd been finding better ways to cope."

I paused and made eye contact with Marcus, who was watching me carefully.

"Tommy was getting his life together. He had plans and goals and hope for the future. Someone took that away from him and I promise you this. I'm going to find out who killed my brother and I'm going to make them pay for what they did."

The last part came out harder than I intended. Several people shifted uncomfortably in their seats and I saw Marcus raise an eyebrow. I didn't care. Tommy deserved justice and if the official investigation took too long or came up empty, I'd get that justice myself.

After the service we drove to Greenwood Cemetery for the burial. It was a gray October day with clouds that looked like they might start raining any minute. The kind of weather that matched my mood perfectly. Tommy's casket looked small sitting next to the open grave, waiting to be lowered into the ground.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the minister said as dirt hit the top of the casket with hollow thuds.

I threw a handful of dirt and whispered goodbye to my brother. This was really happening. Tommy was really gone and I was truly alone now. No parents, no siblings, no family left except some cousins I barely knew who lived three states away.

Marcus appeared at my elbow as people started walking back to their cars.

"Sarah, I meant what I said about letting me handle the investigation. These motorcycle clubs have connections everywhere, including inside law enforcement. You can't trust anyone completely until we know who's involved."

"I understand."

"Do you? Because that sounded like a vow for revenge back there, not a promise to let justice take its course."

I looked at him directly. "Tommy was all the family I had left. Someone murdered him and left evidence pointing to the Steel Vultures. What would you do if it was your brother?"

Marcus was quiet for a moment. "I'd want to tear them apart with my bare hands. But I'd also know that going after them alone would be suicide."

"Maybe."

"Not maybe, definitely. These aren't street dealers or small time criminals, Sarah. The Steel Vultures control territory and they protect it violently. They've been linked to twelve murders in the past five years and those are just the ones we know about."

"Then we better solve this case fast."

Marcus studied my face. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Promise me you'll let me work this investigation properly."

"I promise I won't do anything stupid," I said, which wasn't exactly the same thing as promising to stay out of it completely.

Most of the other mourners had left by now. I stood by Tommy's grave watching the cemetery workers prepare to fill in the hole. This was really the end. In a few minutes dirt would cover the casket and Tommy would be gone forever except for memories.

That's when I saw him.

About fifty yards away, near a cluster of old oak trees, someone was watching. He wore dark clothing and had been careful to stay in the shadows, but I caught a glimpse of leather when he shifted position. A leather jacket or vest, the kind motorcycle club members wore.

My heart started pounding. Was this one of Tommy's killers? Was he here to make sure Tommy was really dead? Or was he watching me, trying to figure out if I was going to be a problem for them?

I started walking toward the trees, trying to look casual. The figure noticed my movement and stepped deeper into the shadows. I could make out more details now. Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair. Definitely male and definitely trying to avoid being seen clearly.

"Sarah, ready to go?" Marcus called from behind me.

I turned for just a second to answer him. "Give me one minute."

When I looked back toward the trees, the figure was gone. I jogged over to where he'd been standing and found cigarette butts and boot prints in the soft ground, but no sign of whoever had been watching Tommy's burial.

The cigarette butts were the same brand we'd found at the crime scene.

I picked up one of the butts carefully and wrapped it in a tissue from my purse. This was evidence, even if I couldn't officially process it myself. Someone from the Steel Vultures had been here watching Tommy's funeral and I was going to find out who.

Walking back to Marcus, I felt something shift inside me. The grief was still there, would probably always be there, but now it was mixed with something else. Determination. Purpose. Anger that I could actually use.

"Everything okay?" Marcus asked.

"Fine. Just saying goodbye."

But that wasn't what I'd been doing at all. I'd been making a different kind of vow. The Steel Vultures thought they could kill my brother and walk away. They thought they could watch his funeral like it was some kind of entertainment.

They were wrong.

Tommy's killer was out there somewhere, probably thinking he'd gotten away with murder. Maybe celebrating with his motorcycle club buddies about eliminating someone they saw as a threat. But they'd made a mistake when they killed Tommy Walsh. They'd made an enemy of his sister, and I wasn't going to stop until every person involved in his death paid the price.

The figure in leather had been watching me as much as he'd been watching the funeral. That meant they knew who I was, knew I was a cop, knew I'd be investigating Tommy's death. They were probably trying to figure out how much trouble I might cause them.

They were about to find out.