~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Our Lady of Perpetual Hope Cemetery – 11:38 am
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Until JC heard the priest say “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” the whole situation had been a joke. The reality of what happened in the warehouse four days ago came back with startling clarity and realism. He had never been colder and shivered in the sun of what was one of the hottest days of the summer. Looking up from the red rose he held in his hands his eyes skimmed the shiny black box of a now lost soul. His gaze traveled higher and over the shoulders of the funeral goers to see another funeral going on across the vast lawn of the cemetery. In a way, part of him belonged over there with the white casket and the men in uniform and the multigun salute. Justin had been his partner for the short time they had been paired before the undercover assignment.
Still, more of him belonged to Lance. JC knew that there would never be anyone that could take Lance’s place in his heart and he wasn’t even sure if he would ever even be able to allow someone else that close again. His presence at Lance’s funeral was only tolerated by the grace of Joseph Fatone. The Mafia boss hadn’t been inside the warehouse when the smoke had cleared and he attributed his current injuries to a riding accident. JC knew that they wouldn’t be able to pin anything on Joseph, he was as slippery as his father had been.
A lone chair had been placed on the opposite side of the casket from where Fatone and his group sat. On the seat had a small had been a notebook with an envelope attached and a single red rose. Joseph had arranged these things for him and his men had left JC alone even if they didn’t appreciate the cop’s presence.
With the final words said, Joseph’s entourage tossed their roses into the grave on top of the lowered casket before they walked away. JC’s rose was the last to fall, adding a splash of color against the pool of white. When he was sure that everyone else had left he opened the letter:
Joshua,JC tossed the letter into the open grave and tucked the journal between his suit jacket and his shirt, over his heart.My loss is your loss. I can only offer you his journal, a look at the man you loved and the one that I knew.
Regretfully yours,
Joseph
Home :: Writings :: LiveJournal :: Links :: Feedback
Abstract Dementia © 1998-2002 Dementia Productions
Mantained by Mandy