Becoming Rain (Burying Water #2)(93)

“But what about what we want? What his mother and father would want?” my mom cries, rubbing away the fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. “If we go by those stupid papers, well . . . why don’t we just toss his body into the family vault!”

Reading between the lines, he’s basically asking for just that. But I don’t say that now.

“Are you going to keep fighting me on this? Or can we just move on with the arrangements?” Because I just want this to be over with.

“We can arrange for a lovely—and quick—service at the burial site for you that may help serve everyone’s needs while respecting Mr. Markov’s wishes,” the funeral director offers with a sympathetic smile. It’s the same smile she’s worn for the past hour, relieving it only with well-timed frowns or closed-eye nods to convey her deepest understanding. I wonder if these people are born with funeral worker genes or if they take extensive schooling for it, because everyone we’ve walked past on our way into this office is the exact same.

Rain’s ringer is off but I can hear her phone vibrating in her pocket. It’s been vibrating nonstop since we sat down in here but she hasn’t so much as pulled it out. I lean over. “You can take that if you need to. It could be about your dad.” With everything else going on, I haven’t even asked her what’s happening with him and she hasn’t mentioned it.

She frowns. “Yeah, I probably should. If you’re okay here?”

“What else do we need to do?” I ask the funeral director.

She lays a catalogue out in front of us with utmost care. “Well, there is the matter of choosing a casket, writing the obituary . . .”

Her words drift off as I turn back to Rain. “We can handle this.”

She pats my leg and then stands. “Okay, I’ll just be outside.”

I watch her walk out, feeling immediately lonely. She’s been by my side—watching reruns of my stupid favorite shows, feeding me, walking the dogs with me, lying next to me while I fall asleep—since the cops first showed up at my door. I don’t know what I’d do without her.

Chapter 50

CLARA

“This is creepy. And disrespectful,” I mutter, glancing over my shoulder at the casket on the other side of the room, an elderly man lying peacefully within.

“Why? He doesn’t care. His visitation doesn’t start until tonight.” Warner holds a finger to his lip, checking for blood. I was halfway down the hall, passing a row of viewing rooms, when an arm shot out and grabbed me. I threw a fist out and connected with flesh before I realized it was my handler who was abducting me.

“You’re insane. Have you been waiting here all this time? I was just about to call you. Way safer than this.”

“Relax. I can explain my way out of anything,” he mutters. “And I honestly don’t know what’s safe anymore. I feel like there are more eyes on us than we know about.”

“Why do you say that?”

Warner reaches up, his hand grazing my chest as he grasps my necklace, switching the wire off. “Our decoy Porsche got dropped off on the side of the road last night. Wiped clean and abandoned.”

Last night. Only hours after my phone call with Elmira. A mix of satisfaction and guilt stir inside me with the proof that my hunch paid off. Aref set that car theft up and staged it to look like Vlad was behind it, should the thief get busted and questioned. I have my guesses as to why.

Maybe I’ll still have my chance to ask him myself.

But for now, I have to look disappointed for Warner’s sake. “Do you think someone tipped them off? Or did they find the bugs?”

Warner shrugs. “Hard to say. We knew it was risky to begin with. But it means we’ve lost that lead. At least we got a few names and locations out of it, though.” He clamps up as low voices pass by in the hall. “There’s more.” Turning, he levels me with a hard stare.

It makes me uncomfortable. Like I’ve done something wrong and am about to get called on it. “What?”

“A G-Class Benz and a Lexus LX were hijacked last night.”

“Hijacked?”

“Yeah. One of the drivers has a few scrapes. The other one’s in the hospital for gunshot wounds. Both SUVs are black.”

Black SUVs. Exactly what Aref’s African buyer wants.

“Rix’s guy called him this morning, asking him to help out with a couple of rush orders that just came down the pipes. They need the SUVs within the next forty-eight hours. We’re thinking that someone’s pushing up the date for a shipment and bringing in guys from around the street to fill the order fast. 24’s usual crew isn’t normally sloppy, but someone is definitely still running the show. Too coincidental to be anything else.”

“It’s not Luke. I mean 12. He’s too preoccupied. His phone hasn’t even left his nightstand in the last two days.”

“Well, it’s sure someone.”

“Vlad.” I say it with certainty, though I can’t be 100 percent sure that it’s not Aref. “I’m betting one of those two cut Rust out of the mix and took over.”

“Maybe. All I know is that we’re about to lose whatever edge we had on this investigation.”

I hold my breath as I ask my next question. “Is Sinclair about to haul Luke in?” I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.