"The dog, did she bark anytime during the evening?"

Hunter searched his memory. "Not that I noticed."

"A big dog like her must have a pretty big bark."

"I get preoccupied when I'm working. Tune out the world."

"What were you working on?"

Hunter hesitated. He didn't want his family to know about the novel. So he lied. "A divorce settlement."

Matt arched an eyebrow. "You don't seem so certain."

"No, I'm certain."

"Whose divorce?"

Hunter shook his head, disgusted. "That, as I'm sure you know, is confidential. And has nothing to do

with why we're standing here."

Matt turned toward Buddy. "Could she have been here a while?"

"No way. The alley is busy during business hours. Employees out for a smoke, deliveries, kids

skateboarding."

"That means she was dumped here sometime after the close of business today."

Buddy nodded. "I'll get one of my guys to talk to Jean about the crates, when they were put out." Jean,

Hunter knew, was the owner of the grocery. "Make certain they were neatly stacked when she

locked up."

"What about the trash barrels?" Matt asked. "Why aren't they depositing this stuff in the Dumpster?"

"I know the answer to that," Hunter offered. "If she's short staffed at the end of the day, she'll leave them in the barrels until morning." The two men looked at him. Hunter shrugged. "I ran into her one morning while walking Sarah."

"It seems this alley is a busy place."

Hunter frowned at Mart's tone. "Are we finished here? Can I go?"

"How much traffic does the alley see at night?"

"It's dead. Pardon the word choice."

"No traffic at all?" Matt questioned.

"Kids making out sometimes. Somebody turning in by mistake, realizing it and backing out. Me and Sarah, out for a walk. That's about it."

"You hear the kids, the cars, from your apartment?"

"Yeah. Most of the time."

"But tonight you didn't see or hear anything?"

Hunter stiffened at the sarcasm in his brother's voice. At his smirk. "If that's it, I'd like to go. It's been a

rough night."

"Go on," Buddy said. "When we know more, we might need to speak with you again."

Hunter walked away, aware of his father's and brother's speculative gazes on his back. He longed to

look back at them, to read their expressions. His every instinct shouted for him to do it.

He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. Wouldn't let them know just how weird this encounter had made him feel.

They'd treated him like a stranger.

A stranger whose sincerity they doubted.

"Hey, Hunter?"

He stopped, turned. Met his brother's gaze. "You remember anything else, it'd help. Give one of us a

call."

CHAPTER 14.

The morning of her father's funeral dawned bright and warm. Turnout proved much smaller than the wake, mostly close family friends and neighbors. But Avery had expected that.

Lilah stood on her right, Buddy on her left. Each held her arm in a gesture of comfort and support. Lilah seemed much stronger than the night before, though she cried softly throughout the service. Matt stood behind his mother, Cherry beside him. Directly across from her stood Hunter. Alone. Expression resolute.

Avery's gaze went to his. She saw no grief there. No pity or sympathy. Only anger. Only the chip he carried on his shoulder. A shudder moved over her. Without compassion, what would a man become? What would such a man be capable of?

He would be capable of anything.

He would be a monster.

The pastor who had baptized her spoke warmly of the person her father had been, of the difference he had made in the commu- nity and to so many individuals' lives.

"He was a light in a sometimes dark world," the pastor finished. "That light will surely be missed."

She shifted her gaze to the casket, acknowledging dizziness. Conscious of rubberiness in her legs. A feeling of being disconnected from the earth.

"Ashes to ashes-"

"He doused himself with diesel fuel and lit a match."

"Dust to dust-"

"Where were you, Avery, when your dad was so depressed he set himself on fire ? "

Avery couldn't breathe. She swayed slightly. Buddy tightened his grip on her arm, steadying her.

This wasn't right, she thought, a thread of panic winding through her. Her father couldn't have taken his

own life. He couldn't be gone.

She hadn't said goodbye. It was her fault.

Avery stared at the casket. Scenes of grief she had witnessed over the years played in her head: weeping

widows; too-solemn children; despairing family, friends, neighbors, colleagues, all of humanity.

Death. The ultimate loss. The universal gut shot.

She fought the urge to throw herself on the casket. To scream and flail her fists and sob. She closed her

eyes, fighting for calm. He would rest beside her mother, she told herself. His partner in this life and the next.

Or would he? Tears choked her. Would his sin separate them for eternity? Who would absolve him of it?

Who would absolve her?

"Avery, honey, it's over."

Over. The end.

Ashes to ashes...doused himself in diesel fuel and lit a...where were you, Avery? Where were you when he...

Dust to dust.

"Avery? Sweetheart, it's time."

She looked blankly at Buddy and nodded. He led her away from the grave. She shifted her gaze, vision

swimming. It landed on the group of men from the wake. All in black. Standing together. Again.

Seven of them. They were staring at her. One of them laughed. A sound passed her lips. She stumbled and Buddy caught her. "Avery, are you all right?"