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My grandfather purchased the family plot when my grandmother passed. A six-foot headstone with the name Sinacore-Romano engraved in large letters was erected in the back, and every member that’s fortunate enough to be interred before it gets their very own tiny plaque.
Five graves have already been filled. There are three more that are empty. Exactly the number of us who are left. Uncle Ray, Sofia, and me.
The thought sends a cold chill through me, one that only gets worse when I walk over what will probably be my own final resting place.
I pause first at my mother’s grave, setting down the bouquet of white roses I purchased for her on the way. Gemma Luisa Sinacore. It’s been so long since she died, yet I can still recall the vanilla scent she favored. Twenty-one years, and I still remember the tone of her laughter. Something I never heard again after the day Sofia was born and my mother bled to death.
Crossing myself, I kiss my fingers then touch them to her marble plaque. Not that I believe she’s here and can see me. But just in case because I know she’d be disappointed if I didn’t.
Beside her, Tony rests in peace. I crouch in front of his tomb and read the stone.
Antonio Luis Sinacore. Beloved brother and friend. Truer words could not have been said. He was that and more.
“You should still be here,” I say, resentful that he left us. “I miss you, big brother.”
I sigh, then look over to my father’s grave. The reason I’m here.
With a great deal of reluctance, I stand and go nearer. Nicolas Luca Sinacore. Why I was named after him is a mystery. Luck of the draw, I suppose. Tony got my mother’s middle name, and I got his.
“I bet if you could have changed my name, you would have, huh, Pops?” I say, staring at the engraved stone. “But we were stuck with each other.”
You are my biggest regret.
Fuck, his last words still sting. It doesn’t matter that his mind was already consumed by the drugs meant to keep him comfortable in the end stages of his lung cancer. He meant them.
“How would you feel knowing I took your place in the end?” I ask him.
The thought of him rolling in his grave beneath my feet makes me smile. It doesn’t last long, however. Because being seen as his failure isn’t something that brings me joy.
It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it does. He’s dead now, and I’m here for one reason alone.
I lower myself, not in a show of respect since he didn’t earn it when he was alive, but to get a better look at his tombstone. It was Carina’s discovery that made me wonder if perhaps the pennies in the portrait are a sign that I should visit him.
So here I am, searching for anything. Another clue Tony might have left here. He visited often, so it wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that if he found himself unable to trust anyone living, he’d turn to the dead.
But if he did, I don’t see it. I inspect every inch of Pop’s plaque. Then I search the large family headstone and the name plaques of every member of the Sinacore family. Nothing. Even the dirt provides no evidence that someone left anything.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I squeeze my eyes shut and bite back a shout of frustration.
Just as I’m about to give in, my phone buzzes.
“What?” I answer.
“Where are you?” my uncle asks.
“St. Joseph’s.”
There’s a moment of silence. “It pleases me to hear you’ve gone to pay your respects.”
I don’t correct him. “Is there any word on a truce agreement?”
“Yes. Five have responded. There will be a truce. We meet in two days at Briar House.”
“Good,” I say, thankful for at least that.
After I hang up, I make my way back to Hansen and the other men.
“We need to discuss security,” I tell him. “I’ll have a house full of vipers in two days.”
