All hell breaks loose. Gasps echo around us as Sinclair grabs the model by the hair and yanks it until the model stumbles, swiping for her bag with her other hand.
“You crazy psycho!” the other model yells, sinking her nails into Sinclair’s arm.
I’m on them in a flash, knocking the girl’s hand off Sinclair and lifting Sinclair off the ground, pulling her away. She fights against me, arms and legs punching and kicking out into the air.
“Put me down, Denver. I swear to God, I’ll?—”
“I’m not letting you go until you calm down,” I growl in her ear as she puts all her energy into trying to escape me.
“Fuck you, I hate you!” She throws her head back, trying to hit me in the face, but I’ve got her clasped so hard against me that it thuds uselessly against the base of my shoulder. “Denver!” Her voice takes on a more desperate edge as the model scurries away, slamming the door on her way out. “Denver, please.”
She sags against me, letting out a wail.
“It’s all right. I’ve got you,” I say in her ear so only she can hear.
“You don’t understand,” she cries. “It’s him…” Her body trembles as sobs overtake her. “It’s all I have of him.”
I stand further away than I’m comfortable with, giving Sinclair the space she asked for. Her cries carry over to me in the open air as she kneels beside one of the two graves. Her head is bowed, and her slender frame is shaking with the force of her tears.
And all I can do is stand and watch.
Her mouth is moving, and I can make out the words,Sorry, andI love you, as she tends to the flowers that have been placed in planters around both graves. Sterling told me she comes here often, asking him to bring her, instead of Sullivan, who hasn’t been here since the day they were both buried.
Today was the first day she’s ever asked me to come with her. But I know there’s nothing more to it on her part than desperation.
Desperation over losing her necklace. Now I understand why she was so distraught.
“It’s all I have of him.”
I called Sterling the minute Sinclair went to freshen up in the restroom after her outburst and he confirmed what I suspected the minute she collapsed into my arms, all her fight leaving her.
The diamond in that necklace was made from her brother’s ashes.
Sullivan was able to get what he needed from the medical examiner, and have it made before the funeral because the bodies were already so badly burned. Sterling said Sullivan hadn’t liked the idea, but he’d gotten it made for Sinclair when she insisted.
She’s worn it every day since.
Bringing her hand to her lips, she kisses her fingertips, then presses them to the headstone. She rises, walking around to the other and repeating the gesture. Then she frowns, reaching down to pick something up.
I walk closer and her eyes flick up to mine. They’re red-rimmed and the sight makes my stomach clench.
“Neil left Mom a note,” she whispers.
“May I?”
She hands the piece of paper to me.
“I’ll always live in the ‘what could have been’. If only you’d chosen differently, my darling, Elaina, then maybe you’d be living here with me.”
My jaw hardens. We don’t need a signature to know that it’s from him. It’s the note of a lover. One whose reasons for coming back to New York are still unclear.
“Do you think it’s…?” Sinclair chews her lower lip. “Forget it,” she adds, looking away.
“Do I think it’s threatening?” I ask, knowing exactly what the look in her eyes means. “I don’t know. But we need to go straight to your father and show him.”
“I want to go to Sullivan’s and collect Monty, and then go home,” she says in a weak voice.
I fold the note and put it inside my jacket pocket.
