Chapter 64 I don't care what it costs
Violet
My fingers tighten around the phone. “He should be. The hospital told me both would be ready.”
“They are ready,” she says gently. “But they are not in the same facility.”
My voice sharpens. “Where is my brother?”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“Your brother is currently at St. Thomas’s Funeral Home,” she says.
The kitchen seems to tilt.
“What?” I whisper.
“He was transferred directly from the morgue several weeks ago,” she continues. “At the request of the police department.”
I grip the edge of the counter so hard my knuckles ache. “Why was I not told?”
“I don’t have that information,” she replies. “I only have what is documented.”
“So you’re telling me,” I say slowly, each word heavy, “that my mother and my brother are in two different funeral homes.”
“Yes, Ms. Pierce.”
“And no one thought to fix that when my mother passed?”
“No,” she says softly. “They did not.”
My chest tightens painfully. “Fine. Then I need to speak with St. Thomas’s.”
“I can give you their number,” she offers.
“Yes,” I say. “Please.”
She reads it off. I type it in with shaking hands.
“And Ms. Pierce,” she adds, quieter now, “I truly am sorry. This is… unusual.”
“It shouldn’t happen at all,” I reply.
I hang up and stare at the phone for a long moment before dialing again.
St. Thomas’s answers immediately.
“St. Thomas’s Funeral Home. This is David.”
“Hi,” I say. “My name is Violet Pierce. I was told my brother is in your care.”
There is silence. Then typing.
“Yes,” he says. “I have him here.”
My throat burns. “I need to arrange burial services. He should be buried with my mother.”
Another pause.
“I’m sorry,” David says carefully. “We cannot release his remains without authorization.”
“What authorization,” I ask. “I’m next of kin.”
“Yes,” he says. “However, his file is marked as restricted.”
My hands curl into fists. “Restricted by who.”
“The police department,” he replies. “Specifically Detective Calder.”
The name lands like a punch.
“That detective is no longer assigned to the case,” I say.
“That may be,” David responds. “But his hold is still active.”
“Why was my brother moved here in the first place,” I demand. “Why was he separated from my mother.”
David exhales slowly. “Off the record, Ms. Pierce, I would say it was intentional.”
My heart pounds. “Intentional how.”
“There are notes stating his remains were not to be reunited with any other services until further notice,” he says.
Further notice.
From a man who strangled a CI.
From a man who told my mother her son was dead.
My vision blurs.
“This is cruel,” I say. “You understand that, right.”
“Yes,” he replies quietly. “I do.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, pressing my fingers to my temple. When I bring it back, my voice is colder. Steadier.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I say. “You will hold my brother exactly where he is. Do not move him. Do not release him. Do not allow access without my consent or a court order.”
“Yes, Ms. Pierce.”
“And Sunnyfields will proceed with my mother,” I continue. “Separate services if necessary. I will be present for both.”
“Understood.”
I hang up before my voice can break again.
For a moment, I just sit there, phone in my hand, staring at the countertop.
They separated them.
Even in death, someone decided my family did not belong together.
My chest feels too tight, like there is not enough air in the room. Not panic. Not yet. This is something hotter. Thicker. Rage that crawls up my spine and settles behind my eyes.
I hear a chair shift.
Devin steps into my line of sight carefully, like he is approaching a wild animal. His voice is soft, cautious. “Violet…”
I do not look at him.
“They moved him,” I say. My voice sounds wrong to my own ears. Flat. Empty. “They took Evan and put him somewhere else. Like he was evidence. Like he wasn’t… like he wasn’t my brother.”
Devin swallows. “I’m so sorry.”
Something snaps.
“I don’t need sorry,” I say sharply. My hand slams against the counter, making the plates rattle. “I need this fixed.”
He reaches for my arm. “Violet, let’s just slow down for a second.”
I yank my arm away. “Don’t.”
The word comes out sharp enough to cut.
Before he can respond, a familiar sound cuts through the kitchen.
Beep. Beep. Click.
The security system disengaging.
The front door opening.
My head snaps up.
Rowan.
I am off the stool before anyone can stop me.
I stride down the hallway toward the entryway, my pulse roaring in my ears. Devin curses softly and follows after me.
“Violet, wait,” he says, trying to keep up. “Let him breathe for a second.”
I do not slow down.
Behind us, I hear Camille’s voice, confused and alarmed. “What’s going on?”
Theo’s comes right after, sharper. “Why is she running.”
I reach the entryway just as Rowan steps inside, shrugging off his coat. He barely has time to look up before I am standing in front of him.
I do not give him a greeting.
I do not give him context.
I look straight at him and say, “I need you to fix this.”
He freezes.
Not startled. Not confused. Focused.
His eyes lock onto mine immediately, dark and intent, like everything else in the world just dropped away.
“Fix what?” he asks calmly.
“They separated them,” I say, my voice finally cracking. “They took my brother to a different funeral home. The police did it. Calder did it. I just found out.”
Rowan’s jaw tightens.
“I don’t care how,” I continue, words tumbling out fast now. “I don’t care what it costs. Money, favors, leverage, whatever. I will pay it. I will sign anything. I will do anything. But I am not burying my mother and my brother apart.”
Devin catches up and hovers at my side, his hand half raised like he wants to steady me but knows better. “She just got off the phone with both funeral homes,” he says quietly. “Calder put a hold on the brother’s remains.”
Theo and Camille arrive behind us.
Theo’s face hardens instantly. “What the hell do you mean, separated.”
I do not look away from Rowan as I answer. “My mother is at Sunnyfields. Evan is at St. Thomas’s. Calder marked his body as restricted. They will not release him without authorization.”
Camille lets out a sharp, broken sound. “That’s sick.”
Theo swears. Loud. “That’s not procedure.”
Rowan still has not moved.
He is staring at me like he is memorizing every word, every breath, every fracture in my composure.
“They treated him like a case file,” I say. “Not a person. And they treated my mother like collateral damage.”
My hands shake, but I do not lower them. “I am asking you. No. I am telling you. I need this done.”
Rowan steps closer.
Not into my space. Just close enough that I can feel him there.
“Look at me,” he says.
I already am.
“You will bury your family together,” he says quietly.
The certainty in his voice steals the breath from my lungs.
Theo blinks. “Rowan—”
“I said together,” Rowan repeats, cutting him off without looking away from me.
My throat tightens. “You don’t know what you’re promising.”
“I do,” he replies. “And I don’t promise things I cannot deliver.”
For the first time since this started, my anger wavers. Something like hope slips in, sharp and dangerous.
“How?” I whisper.
Rowan finally exhales. “I will have the hold removed. Legally or otherwise. Calder no longer has jurisdiction, and if his superiors forgot that, I will remind them.”
“And if they refuse?” I ask.
His mouth curves into something cold. “Then I make it very expensive for them to keep refusing.”