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“I have, too,” I admitted. “Might’ve been over the last week.”
“I’m good with faces,” Easton said. “And I can’t remember where I’ve seen him before.”
Easton was a goddamn genius. I’d figured that out over the last week of working with him.
Not only was he smart, but his brain worked on a different wavelength than anybody else’s.
Where my brain felt like it worked on FM, his was one of those that worked on AM, FM and fucking satellite.
There were things he saw, clues he’d put together, that I would’ve never even thought to consider.
Which was why, when he said that he recognized the man in front of us, I knew that the man was different.
“Run his face,” I suggested. “Can’t hurt.”
“I will,” Easton said. “I just have to get in front of him. Maybe take a selfie. Which is highly inconsiderate. People are going to look at me weird.”
I cast him a side-eyed look.
“That bothers you?”
He nodded.
“I don’t like taking pictures period. They’re a pain in the ass. Not to mention I’m asked every half a second by some random woman walking down the road because of all this hot-cop bullshit going around lately. All of a sudden it’s acceptable for random strangers to ask for your picture…or just take it. Whatever. It’s fuckin’ not,” I muttered, losing myself in my adamance that pictures were dumb. “But anyway, if you need me to take a goddamn selfie, I should do it now. The service is about to start.”
“I’ll do it,” Easton muttered. “I think you’re more fucked up about having your photo taken than I am.”
Easton had snickered when some random chick had walked up to me outside of the Exxon earlier. She hadn’t been very stealthy about getting her picture. Nor had she made an attempt to hide it once she’d been caught.
Easton stood up and walked over to where the pew was empty two rows ahead, one row ahead of the random man.
I started looking around, surprised by the number of people that were filling the room, still trickling in even five minutes late.
I idly wondered if they were all here because of the wife, or because of the husband.
I hoped it was because of the wife because it’d be fuckin’ awful if it was only due to the Hooch racing fame that half of these people showed.
A few I knew were likely executives for racing. They were just too well dressed.
But there were some that looked genuinely saddened to be there. Those were definitely the ones that were actually friends.
Easton came back and sat down beside me.
“Got my picture,” he muttered just as the attendants started closing the doors from behind us. “I’m gonna send this in now, but with the holiday, I have no doubt in my mind that I won’t get any hits—if there are any to be had—until at least two days from now.”
I nodded once, keeping my eyes forward and continued to scan the room.
The first eight rows had been blocked off for the family, and they took up almost every single bit of it.
Hell, some of one of the aunts’ kids even spilled out into a couple of pews behind.
Though, I wasn’t sure if that was by intent or happenstance.
“Your girl’s gonna lose it,” Easton muttered.
My eyes swiveled to Turner’s hunched form so fast that it would’ve been comical had it not been under such a sad circumstance.
In the front row, Bud was sitting next to the grandmother, talking to her in low tones. Turner’s grandfather was next to her grandmother, and her father was sitting next to him. Then came Turner, all by herself at the end of the row.
There was about a foot of space on either side of her. Enough room that someone from her family could’ve sat there had they wanted to.
But Easton was right.
When Turner turned her head to study the flower arrangement directly next to the pew, I could see the tears already coursing down her face.
I looked to where Jubilee was standing in the back, her face a sad line as she also watched her friend.
Our eyes caught, and Jubilee gestured with her chin toward Turner.
A universal sign of ‘go to her.’
I didn’t waste a second.
Standing up, I passed the pews upon pews, and massive spreads of flowers, until I got to her row.
I was sure that everyone and their brother was very aware of my every move. They were watching because normally one would stop before they got to the family section.
Yet I didn’t.
I went to the first pew, then started sitting in the tiny gap between the end of the pew and Turner’s lap. Turner had no choice but to move over or I’d end up in her lap.
Which she did with only seconds to spare.
The moment I was down, I lifted my arm and curled it around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
