Page 67 of Souls and Sorrows

“It’sPrimrose, and you should be,” Ariana snaps, and I lean back in my chair, studying her as she grows increasingly agitated. Her hands ball into fists in her lap, and she leans forward, shooting daggers at the man. “You fucked up notifying his next of kin, didn’t ask my permission to perform an autopsy, and now, you can’t even get my name right. Are you all stupid? Is that why my father is sitting on some icy slab of metal at a facility across town—because you people are completely inept?”

He glances at me, like he’s expecting some sort of intervention.

I throw my arm over the back of her chair and keep my mouth shut.

“Can I refuse an autopsy?” she asks, turning toward me.

Meeting her glassy gaze, I cock an eyebrow. “Are you sure youwantto?”

She nods just once, and I feel like maybe I should question her on it. Explain to her that in the event that someone murdered her dad, an investigation might be useful, especially in keeping the underground quiet, as I’m sure once news of his death breaks loose, so will hell.

But then I think about my sister and our father’s death and how no one wanted a report on record for him either. The longer I stare at Ariana, the more I think she might have in common with Lenny, and I can’t help wondering what she isn’t telling me.

Maybe she’s just a girl grieving a great loss, but maybe…

Maybe there’s more to it.

“Well, you heard her,” I tell the officer. “Rafael’s next of kin is formally objecting to the autopsy.”

Sighing, the officer shakes his head, pulling his file from the metal table. “I’ll send the request to the intake department, but I can’t make any promises. If they reject your stance, you’ll have to take it up with them.”

“Fine.”

Again, the officer looks to me for assistance, but still, I offer none. The worst part of being a lawyer is interacting with the police, and I don’t really appreciate the attempt to undermine Ariana’s importance here.

Tapping a pen on the edge of the table, he clears his throat. “What parlor would you like to have the body shipped to?”

Ariana’s mouth forms a thin line. “I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s—”

“I mean, I don’t know if I want to claim the body,” she interjects sharply. “I’ll… I need to call my sisters. See what they want to do.”

The officer nods, zipping the leather binder he brought in with the documents inside as he stands up. He leaves us there, throwing a, “Take as long as you need,” over his shoulder on his way out, and then there’s just silence.

I watch Ariana’s shoulders deflate slightly when the audience is gone, and she runs her thumb over the diamond on her ring finger.

“If there’s no autopsy,” I say, mulling over how to proceed with her, “they won’t be able to determine the cause of death.”

She lifts her head, cutting her eyes to me. “I know that.”

“Are you positive you can move on without finding out what happened?”

Pursing her lips, she seems to consider this for a long time, staring off at the wall with a faraway look on her face.

Folding her hands together, she presses them into her lap and turns in her chair, facing me. “I think that whatever happened to him here is exactly what he deserved.”

When we leave ten minutes later, I’m only mildly surprised to find Elena Anderson standing on the curb outside, hands stuffed in the pockets of the black fur coat she has on. Her dark brown hair hangs loose under a knit cap, catching in the slight breeze that picks up, and her hazel eyes widen to the size of saucers when she sees me walking behind her sister, hand on her lower back.

“What the hell?” Her gaze volleys between us, betrayal burning bright in her pink cheeks. “What are you doing here, Cash?”

My hand falls to my side. “Nice to see you again, Elena.”

“Again?” Ariana looks up at me. “You know my sister?”

“We’ve had brunch together a few times,” I explain. Ariana’s brows arch, and I shake my head. “Withmysister. They weren’t dates or anything.”

“Yeah, just a busybody lawyer butting his nose into my friendship.” Elena eyes me with a casual disdain, her face pinched as she gives me a once-over. “What are you, making your rounds through my family? Did I not give you enough dirt on the Riccis that you had to go find answers elsewhere?”

---