“I must insist. Mr. Mendoza will take it as a personal insult if you don’t.”
Nothing will change my mind, not even a cartel kingpin.
“Just take it.” Diaz shoves it into my hand. “Once you get home, donate the money to your favorite charity.”
Something I never thought of. I’ve been too wrapped up in Eagle to think of using the blood money for something positive. How can I refuse? “Okay.” I stash the envelope in my purse.
He nods with approval and walks me outside. The waiting town car is sleek and black, a Lincoln. The driver is dressed in the traditional chauffeur’s suit and hat. He opens the door for me and I smile, grateful for the ride.
“We’re going to Texarkana?” he asks Diaz.
“Yes. Of course, if the lady wants to stop anywhere on the way, please do so.”
The driver shuts my door and then climbs into the front seat. He adjusts the rearview mirror so he can see me. “My name is Percy. Let me know if you need anything. There’s a stocked mini fridge to your left. Help yourself to whatever you want.”
“I appreciate it,” I say. “If you don’t mind, can we stop by the Holly Beach Cemetery on the way out?”
“Yes.” He doesn’t question my request. Instead, he fixes his mirror and connects his seatbelt.
The engine purrs to life and we pull out of the driveway. I heave a sigh of relief as we hit the highway. My nightmare is almost over.Almost.Ten minutes later, Percy drives under the welcoming arch of the cemetery where my ashes are interred. This is another one of those moments no one should have to experience. I’m here to mourn my own loss. As twisted and sick as it sounds, I need to do this. Not only do I want to see where I was laid to rest, a part of me wants to say goodbye to Angel. None of it would make any sense to a sane person. Living between two worlds comes with a heavy psychological cost. The experts say closure is the first step to recovery. I hope this helps.
