Page 44 of The Couple's Secret
Zane nodded his approval.
Hollis lumbered toward the pastor. Tucking the loose tail of his dress shirt into his pants, he began speaking. It was clear he hadn’t prepared anything. He rambled on for ten minutes, talking about how he knew the couple and their children. While his impromptu eulogy was meandering, the stories he told about Tobias and Cora painted a vivid picture of how good-hearted and kind they’d been. Many people in the crowd murmured their agreement.
Finally, he finished with a nod to Jackson, Riley, and Zane. They mumbled thank-yous as he returned to his seat. As he wiped more sweat from his face, the pastor concluded the service. Zane and Jackson helped Riley stand. A cemetery worker handed them each two carnations—one red and one white—for them to place atop the caskets. Hollis lingered, waiting his turn.
Then Dalton strode forward, drawing up next to Jackson and holding his palm out for flowers. Riley slowly swiveled her head in his direction. Her mouth dropped open, and her legs wobbled. Hollis moved toward him, but Jackson got there first, pressing a large palm flat against Dalton’s chest.
“You have some fucking nerve, asshole,” he said, voice low and menacing. “How dare you show up here?”
“I have every right to be at my wife’s funeral,” Dalton sneered.
They were out of earshot of the rest of the mourners but a few people in the front of the crowd caught on to the tension, craning their necks and shuffling closer to try to hear the exchange.
“Charming,” Gretchen said under her breath and Josie knew she was remembering all the fractures Dalton had given Cora in the years they were married.
It was a miracle that she’d survived his abuse—and leaving him.
With his free hand, Jackson tucked Riley behind him. Zane stepped forward, hugging her to his chest and guiding her to the opposite side of the tent, closer to where Josie stood with Gretchen and Fanning.
“Cora wasn’t your wife,” Jackson said. “She was engaged to our father and let’s face it, even when you were married to her, you weren’t a husband. You barely qualify as a human being.”
“Gentlemen.” The pastor moved closer until he was nearly between them. A strained smile was plastered across his face.
“Jacks,” Hollis said.
Dalton puffed his chest out, pushing against Jackson’s palm. “I have a right to see my daughter.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“This guy never did know when to quit,” Fanning muttered under his breath.
Jackson’s face hardened. His fury was like a thundercloud, rolling off him, enveloping everyone under the tent.
Hollis clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “He’s not worth it, son.”
There was a rustling in the crowd as several of the reporters and their crews muscled their way through the throngs of people, trying to get closer. A couple of the plainclothes officers began weaving their way toward the front with far more finesse than the journalists.
“What’s going on?” someone on the hill said. “What’s happening?”
The people near the front surged forward, almost touching the backs of the chairs, despite the cemetery workers trying to maintain some space.
“Sir,” the pastor said to Dalton. “This is not the time or the place.”
A slow smile spread across Dalton’s face. Ignoring the pastor, he told Jackson, “Last time I checked, my daughter was an adult and not your prisoner. You can’t keep me away from her.”
Jackson’s fingers curled, clutching a handful of Dalton’s shirt. “I can and I will. Riley doesn’t want anything to do with you. Ever. So do yourself a favor and leave. Don’t contact her. Don’t come near her. Don’t even think about her. Forget she exists.”
“Or what?”
Hollis tightened his hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “That’s enough. Dalton, don’t make a scene. If you want to?—”
His words were cut off by Riley’s ear-piercing shrieks. “Stop it! Just stop it! I don’t want you here! Nobody wants you here! Leave us alone! Just leave us alone! I hate you! I’ve always hated you! It should be you! It should be you in that coffin. I wish it was. Get out, get out, get out!”
The shock that tore through the crowd was a physical thing, like a groundswell. One reporter started pushing mourners roughly out of the way, snapping at her cameraman to hurry up.
“Oh shit,” Fanning said.
