24
The morning sky had clouded over by the time they reached the funeral home, a neatly kept Victorian of white clapboard with black trim, situated in an open field outside Buckley. The two friends had been silent on the ride, which wasn’t like either of them.
“Court, how are you doing?” Julia asked, driving.
“I’m okay. Thanks for the talk in the room.” Courtney looked over, her expression strained. “One foot in front of the other.”
“Right.” Julia steered into the parking lot, where one of the cars was Mona’s. “Are Mona and Susan here early, too?”
“Yes, they asked, and I told them yes.”
“Of course.” Julia imagined how hard this would be for Kay’s oldest friends.
They parked, got out of the car, and walked together to the funeral home.
They entered, looking around. There was a hallway with a graceful wooden staircase and to the left was a rectangular parlor with old-fashioned floral wallpaper, a patterned rug, and brown metal chairs in rows.
The funeral director appeared, walking down the hall toward them. He was a short, middle-aged man in a dark suit, with puffy gray hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a nice smile. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Mel Vitali, and you must be Courtney. I’m sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you.” Courtney introduced Julia, and they shook hands.
“Now is your private time for a final goodbye. Please, come this way.” Mel linked his fingers in front of him, and Julia and Courtney followed him down a long, softly lit hallway and into an anteroom that held a weepy Mona and Susan, dressed in black.
“Courtney, we’re so sorry.” Mona enveloped Courtney in a teary hug, and Susan joined her.
“Courtney, thank you for letting us come.”
“Of course.” Courtney released them, wiping her eyes. “You were sisters to her.”
“We loved her.” Mona sniffled, wiping her nose.
Mel gestured to a closed door. “Courtney, please feel free to go in alone or with Julia. There are no rules. We have some time before guests begin to arrive for the funeral.”
Courtney straightened. “Jules, would you come with me?”
“Of course.” Julia took Courtney’s hand, and they opened the door, then walked into the room together.
A tall bronze urn of Kay’s cremains sat atop a black velvet cloth on a table flanked by lilies and a lovely framed photo of Kay, her eyes dancing behind her glasses and her smile animated with happiness.
Julia’s throat caught, and Courtney began to cry.
Julia hugged her while deep sobs wracked her body and finally began to subside.
Julia spotted a box of tissues, got one, and gave it to Courtney, who wiped her eyes and blew her nose.
“My poor grandma. I’ll miss her forever. I love her so much.”
“She loved you, too.”
“One last thing.” Courtney straightened, her bright eyes glistening with grief. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a note. “I’m going to put this in with her. It says, ‘I love you and I promise you I’ll find whoever stole the rest of your life from you, no matter what it takes.’”
“Good.” Julia’s throat thickened, hoping it was possible.
Courtney opened the urn, tucked the note in, and put the lid back on. “Goodbye, Grandma Kay,” she whispered, hushed.
“Ready to go?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Julia took her arm, guided her to the door, and opened it onto Mona and Susan, who beelined for her with outstretched arms.
“Oh, dear, come here,” Mona cooed, as Courtney fell into her embrace, and Susan joined in, hugging her.
Just then Julia experienced the flash of a man’s face, cloaked in shadows. His dark eyes burned with ferocity. The image came out of the ether, shocking, terrifying, an inch in front of her, blotting out the anteroom. She froze, stunned.
Just then she felt an agonizing blow to her chest, knocking the wind out of her. She grabbed the doorjamb to steady herself. She couldn’t breathe for a moment. The pain was excruciating.
Suddenly the man’s face began to dematerialize, then vanished, leaving Julia shaking. She was in the anteroom again, her mind reeling. Mona and Susan didn’t notice, their backs turned as they wrapped Courtney in a teary hug.
Julia couldn’t deny it this time. She’d just had a vision. Somehow she knew she’d seen Kay’s killer. She’d felt the gunshot that killed her. She still felt it.
And she’d breathed Kay’s dying breath.