Chapter 64

Marcus doesn't know it (well, yet), but I'll always be grateful to him for helping me find a way to attend Charis's funeral. I wouldn't have been able to find an excuse to go if we weren't dating, because I'd have no reason to push my way into the funeral of a woman I'm not supposed to know.

But, of course, Marcus and the rest of the Alpha family will be there, because they're family to Charles. And since I'm dating Marcus, more or less officially, it doesn't look weird for me to accompany him for support.

It does irritate me a little - the "support" is really just the fact that funerals are as much a publicity opportunity for people like Marcus's family as weddings. But it's allowed me to go to Charis's funeral and get some closure, so I can't really complain.

Brady was stabilized the morning after the attack, and he is recovering well in the hospital. I was with him just this morning, and he looked and sounded healthy and cheerful enough that I felt comfortable leaving him at lunchtime to go get dressed for the funeral.

"I'm fine, Doc," Brady said for the third time as I hovered at the door. "God, woman, you're worse than Kent. Get out of here."

"I'm just worried about leaving you alone," I had waffled, and Brady rolled his eyes.

"I'm healthy as a horse, Doc. They got the bullet out, and there was no lasting damage. And your detective man is fixing me up just fine - he's got me down as an expert witness to an ongoing investigation. I'm safe, in every way possible. Now shoo!"

I had finally relented and slipped out the door, heading home to the villa to take a shower and get dressed in funeral-appropriate clothes. I selected a modest black dress and a strand of pearls - odd, really, how similar the outfit is to the one I wore on my first date with Marcus.

I shake that feeling off as our car pulls up to the church. The gathering here is massive - and there are a lot of cameras, too. I feel another pang of irritation that Charis's funeral has turned into a media circus.

Half of them aren't even here for Charis, the suspected homicide victim; they're here for the Alpha's family. I would be more bitter about this, had Marcus and Emmett not expressed their equal irritation and distaste over coffee yesterday, when we were discussing how the day would go.

That made me feel a lot better, knowing that neither of them take any joy in hijacking someone else's tragedy for their own positive spin. Of course, they have to play the game, because it would look worse if they were surly and angry on camera - people would simply draw the wrong conclusions about the person the event is actually for. Still, it stings. Charis deserves more than to have her funeral used by the media like this.

Marcus helps shield me from the flashing cameras as we exit the car and sweep into the church. Luckily, no one is trying to talk to me or ask me questions, because no one has any idea that I know anything.

As glad as I will be to get back to my real identity, I can't deny that there are perks to being invisible. Especially after everything I've been through.

Marcus and I are ushered into a waiting area, where groups of people in sober clothing huddle together and talk in somber voices. At least everyone here is acting appropriately to the situation, I think.

A table is set out with tea and coffee, and Marcus grabs me a cup of black coffee without needing to ask if I want one. I accept it with a smile - it feels like we're really starting to read one another, to wordlessly communicate. It's nice. I find it especially comforting today.

We came in a separate car to the rest of the family. The Alpha had to stay home; he's still weak and recovering, which was easy enough to spin to the media. Privately, we also agreed that it would be unsafe for him to come. Charles is, quite frankly, losing it. Who knows what he might attempt next, or where.

We spot Daisy and Charles at the opposite end of the room, entertaining a large group of mourners with serious looks on their faces. To my surprise, I see that Daisy looks genuinely distraught. Everything I know about her tells me that she's not a particularly good actress, so I'm taken aback by her tears.

I whisper as much to Marcus, who nods.

"Daisy was truly very fond of Charis," he murmurs back. "There is no way that she knew Charles was going to kill her, though I'm betting she's starting to suspect. I wonder how long it's going to take."

"Take for what?" I ask, puzzled.

"For her to turn on him," Marcus says. "I don't think it will be long now."

I'm very surprised by this, but we don't have time to talk about it now. People are moving toward the main room and finding seats in the pews, and Marcus and I join them.

The service is absolutely lovely. I'm not the only one sniffling at some of the music or the euologies given by the family, for which I'm grateful. They play some of Charis's favorite hymns, and an opera singer giving a performance of "How Great Thou Art" has tears streaming down my cheeks.

Marcus notices and hands me his handkerchief, which I accept and use to mop up my face as best I can without smearing my makeup everywhere. Marcus folds up the damp handkerchief with a smile and tucks it back into his pocket, and my heart gives a little lurch.

I really, truly think I might be falling in love with this man. I look around the room - there is so much genuine love here. Charis was a very beloved woman. I want that for myself - I want to have a husband who adores me, and a group of friends who…

Wait a minute. Trying not to crane my neck too obviously, I shift in my seat and peer up at the family pews. Mr. Robinson - Charles's father and Charis's husband - is sitting in the same pew as my father and Darlene. But the way that Darlene is pressed against Mr. Robinson looks…strange.

I mentally shake my head. Surely I'm imagining things. I turn my attention back to the service, smiling once last time at Marcus before looking back to the minister.

Afterward, we stream back out into the lobby to mingle some more before heading over to the restaurant that will hold the post-funeral luncheon. When the church is almost empty, I whisper to Marcus that I'm going to slip back in and say goodbye privately.

"I just feel that I owe her an apology," I explain in a low tone.

"I completely understand," Marcus says with symapthy, looking at me with soft eyes. "I'll be waiting right out here for you."

I slip back into the church and head up the aisle to where Charis's casket is still resting, open from the waist up. The family elected not to go to the gravesite or have any kind of service there, which struck me as odd, but at least it means that I can have this one moment with her.

"Charis," I whisper, almost inaudibly. I reach out and gently touch her hand. She doesn't look like a woman who just died in a terrible traffic accident, at least not from what I can see in the casket. She just looks like she's sleeping.

"Charis," I whisper again. "It's me. I'm so sorry, Charis. I'm so, so sorry. I wish I could have at least spoken to you one last time, cleared my name with you personally. Thank you for everything, Charis. You're the mother I never had, and I'm going to miss you."

I touch her hand again and turn to leave, but a noise stops me. There are voices coming from behind the privacy panels off to the side of the room, and I step closer to listen.

"...didn't kill her myself, but can't deny it was good timing," says a voice that I recognize as Mr. Robinson's. "Now we just need you to divorce Paul, and we can finally move forward."

"We just need to wait," Darlene says. "I can't divorce him yet, and you don't need anyone looking too closely at you, either. Moving on too fast after the death of your murdered wife is just going to make people think you did it."

"But I didn't."

"I know that, but the police don't, and they can pin anything on anyone if they really want to," Darlene says. "Just be patient a little longer, darling. We'll get through this together."

Reeling, I silently hasten down the aisle and slide back into the main lobby.

I need to find Marcus.