The next hour was a parade of people who all had lovely sentiments to share about the young woman who’d had a generous heart, loved school and had been excited about her wedding, which would have been in this church if she’d not died.
When the service ended, Jo watched pallbearers carry out the casket as the mourners followed. Most, genuinely upset, kept their gazes toward the casket. There were some, especially among the Find Christa! group, driven by the event’s drama. That was to be expected. Any funeral or tragic event attracted those who coveted center stage.
Scott, she knew, had been a suspect. She had no reason to doubt that his anguish was real, but she’d also interviewed killers who were truly heartbroken after the explosive, violent moments that led to a loved one’s death.
When everyone had left, Brody escorted Jo into the bright sunshine. She removed sunglasses from her purse, and he settled his Stetson on his head. In the church they’d gone all but unnoticed but out here there was no mistaking a Texas Ranger. Several folks boldly stared at them while others whispered and pointed.
Talk around them didn’t turn to murder immediately, but as folks lingered and watched the casket being led to the hearse, several peered in their direction.
Scott stopped his march to the limo, whispered something in Ester’s ear and made his way through the crowd toward them. Several times he was forced to stop as someone offered him condolences. With each delay his face tightened with tension.
“Ranger Winchester,” Scott said, not tossing a slight glance at Jo. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m paying my respects.” Brody made no move to introduce her, which gave her the opportunity to remain unnoticed by Scott.
“I can’t have you questioning these people here today. They are all devastated by Christa’s death, and questions would heap trauma on trauma.”
Brody’s jaw tightened a fraction. He still didn’t like hearing no. “I’m an observer here today.”
“What is there to see other than grief and sadness?”
“You never know.”
Scott’s clenched fists at his side. “You don’t belong here. I want you to leave.”
Brody didn’t budge. “Can’t do that.”
Scott’s jaw clenched as he fumbled in his pocket for his cell phone. “I’m calling your supervisor.”
Brody didn’t flinch.
Tim spotted Scott and cut through the crowd toward him. His gaze landed briefly on Brody and Jo and then settled on Scott. “Scott, it’s time to go. We’ve got the graveside ceremony.”
“I have a call to make first,” Scott said.
Tim wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulders. “It’s going to have to wait, pal. We need to go.”
Scott’s face crumpled with sadness. “This Ranger shouldn’t be here.”
“He’s trying to find Christa’s killer,” Tim said. “He’s doing his job.”
“This isn’t the place.” Scott lowered the phone to his side as if all the will had melted from him.
“It’s always the place,” Tim said. “Let him do his job, and we can do ours and see Christa laid to rest.”
Tears welled in Scott’s gaze as his head and shoulders slumped. “I can’t do it. I can’t watch them lower her into the ground, knowing that freak buried her alive.”
Jo studied Scott’s grief but didn’t allow herself to be pulled into it. He was clearly hurting.
Tim glanced at Jo. “Hey, Jo, good to see you.”
“You too, Tim.”
“Thanks for trying,” Tim said.
Jo nodded. “Of course.”
Scott looked ahead to the casket now being loaded into the hearse. “God, they are going to bury her again. That’s not right.”
Tim patted Scott’s shoulder. “She’s in a better place, buddy.”
Scott buried his face in his hands. “This is messed up.”
Tim made apologies to Jo and Brody and led Scott away, helping him into the limo.
“He’s worried about her being buried in the ground again,” Jo said. “I’m surprised he didn’t have her cremated.”
“Ester didn’t want Christa cremated. She wanted her buried next to their parents in the family plot. Scott protested. There was a big fight. But Scott had no legal leg to stand on.”
Jo had noted how Ester had leaned on Scott. “They seem close now.”
Brody shrugged. “Grief can mess a person up. Makes them say or act out of character.”
Heaviness lingered behind the words. For a moment she thought he might have been talking about himself. “What you’re saying is that tomorrow she won’t need Scott?”
“Let’s say soon her head is going to clear, and she’ll see the world differently. She will look back on today and wonder why she said and did half of what she did.”
Before she thought, she said, “You talking about her now or yourself ?”
Brody met her gaze. “Both.”
At the gravesite, Jo stood next to Brody, too aware of the energy that he radiated. Raw. Powerful. Dangerous. She had a strong attraction to him. It would be foolish now to deny it. But this attraction had to be exorcised. She’d flown too close to this flame once before and had been burned.
Focusing her attention on the gathering crowd of mourners, she watched as they took their seats at the gravesite. Christa’s sister and boyfriend sat in the front row, each clutching a red rose. Ester’s eyes were bloodshot, and she still clung to Scott as if he were a lifeline. The woman might have disliked the man before but right now he was her rock. Brody had been right. Grief changed enemies into friends. Friends into enemies.
Tim caught her gaze and smiled.
“I’ll be right back,” Jo said.
Without a glance at Brody she maneuvered the cemetery lawn in her heels toward Tim. He smiled warmly at her and pulled her into a hug.
“A lot of the searchers showed up at the church,” Tim said. “I thought I saw Rucker before but he was on the other side of the room so we didn’t get a chance to speak.”
“It was touching to see everyone. We all wanted to find her alive. That connects us to each other and to her.”
Tim was a handsome man. Pretty almost, though she doubted h
e’d have liked the description. “I wish we’d done a better job. We failed her.”
“You can’t look at it that way. Look how many people you marshaled and brought together to search.”
A bitter smile twisted the edges of his lips. “Effort is nice, but it’s the results that matter. Yeah, we worked hard but in the end we didn’t find her.” He shook his head. “And she’d been alive all these weeks.”
“Tim. You can’t live your life playing the what-if game.”
Tension deepened the lines around his eyes. “But I will for a long time. I let her down.”
She took his hand in hers. Warm. Rough. “Don’t blame yourself.”
“There is a group of us gathering tonight. The searchers, as we like to call ourselves. At a bar downtown. You should join us. You worked harder than anybody.”
Aware of Brody, she hesitated. A month ago she’d not have second-guessed. “Grief often finds some solace in groups.”
“You sound like a psychologist.”
She smiled. “No getting away from it.”
“So you’ll come?”
“Yeah. See you.” She squeezed his hand and returned to Brody’s side.
He kept his gaze ahead but he was frowning. “I didn’t realize you two were friends.”
“He’s a nice guy.”
Brody’s gaze shifted toward Tim, much like a rifle sight zeroed in on a target. “He likes you.”
“Mutual respect.”
“Don’t kid yourself.”
“None of your business.”
“Anyone connected to Christa is my business. I saw you nodding. You accepted an invitation.”
His attention to detail on such a simple exchange surprised her. “He and some of the other searchers are gathering for a drink in town tonight. I agreed to go.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a tight-knit bunch.”
“Tim’s great at building camaraderie.”
The hearse arrived and Scott, Ester and Tim moved to the back of the vehicle and unloaded the walnut casket. Jo didn’t know the other three pallbearers. Their gazes fixed and solemn, the six carried Christa’s casket to the grave. The crowd went silent for a moment before the faint sounds of weeping rose.
Thick, sudden tension rippled through Brody’s body, drawing Jo’s gaze to his face. He wasn’t staring at the coffin but past it to a woman hovering close to a tree. The woman wore all black, including a black lace veil that covered white hair.