He chuckled, “I’ll tell the commander. The car bomb was real though. We have her rings and some dental. Him—we have the wedding band you were given back. The bomb was a type that uses chemicals to damage and erode the remains."

I frowned, "And that doesn’t say set-up to you?"

He shook his head, "We had eyes on them. They were in the car. This isn’t Mission Impossible, Evie."

I let the words all sink in and shook my head, "I don’t know why, but her possible death hurts more than his."

"Bros before hos."

I frowned as tears streamed down my cheeks, "What?"

He looked confused, "You know that old saying ‘bros before hos’? She was your bro and James was like your ho.”

I laughed, "Oh my God, you are so twenty. That's not an old saying. I was a teenager when Snoop Dog made that up. Jesus."

He chuckled and stood up, "I know who Snoop Dog is. Jeesh, I told you I'm twenty-eight. I just mean she was bigger in your heart, even if it didn’t feel like it, ‘cause she was your friend, not your lover. She was never blinded by love; she just wanted to be your friend. Are you going to be okay?"

I nodded and wiped my face again. It was a lie, I didn’t think I would ever be okay. He walked to the bedroom door, it was then that it dawned on me how weird the whole thing was. He was standing in my dark bedroom, staring back at me. I didn’t know him and I didn’t like to cry in front of people I did know. I cleared my throat, "So, I guess we meet with Servario tomorrow then?"

He nodded, "We think so. Our intel on his movements is bad. We don’t have much to go on. He's been playing us for a while. That lawyer was our first real break. We traced your deeds and paperwork back to him, through about a dozen other lawyers and a bunch of fake companies. The video of James mentioning you to Melanie, and the one of him and Servario, and the paperwork we have from the lawyer, are all the things connecting you to all this. Upstairs feels like it’s enough to bring you back in.”

I shook my head, “I can’t believe, they would sell me down the river for so little. What the fuck is this Burrow?”

He shrugged, “No clue, but Servario froze everything so he could control you and make you need him. He did all that for a reason. The thing can’t be that little, if the government and a huge arms dealer both want it. He needs you for something.”

I bit my lip and thought for a second, “I don’t like going in blind.”

He nodded again, “I know. We made sure the phone you got was one we could control, if you press 9-1-1, we can get to you. Servario may call, he may show up, we don’t actually know.”

"Useful!” I rolled my eyes, “I love that I'm being risked out like this. Do I know about him and James and about The Burrow?"

He shook his head, "No. Play dumb for now."

My stomach clenched, "That won’t be hard. Will I be in danger? Should I get a gun?"

He laughed, "No. When was the last time you fired a gun?"

I shrugged, "I don’t know, a long time ago. Will you be there?"

He smirked, "I've been there all along."

I nodded and tried ignore the super-creepy feeling I got from the comment, "Okay…. Just turn my cell phone and house phones back on…okay? I need to be able to reach my kids if I’m out and they need to be able to call out, if there’s an emergency."

He nodded and grinned, "Night, Evie." He left and closed the door. I didn’t go to sleep. I waited for him to leave, or at least gave him long enough to be gone. Then I got up and started to debug my house. It helped me process the fact, I would never get to be me again.

Chapter Four - Goodbyes aren't nearly as bad, when you hate the deceased

To say I was pissed would be a HUGE understatement. It would be like saying Bostonians enjoyed the odd game of baseball or hockey.

James’ service was lovely, but I couldn’t cry—not even for my two, desperately-sad children. His parents hugged and kissed me, all the while telling me how much he loved his children and me. If I had to listen to his mother go on about the flower arrangements, or how the army was being so good to us, for one more minute, I figured I would kill someone. The more time I spent celebrating my husband's life, the more forward I was looking to meeting the infamous Mr. Servario and getting the shitshow James had left me, over with.

I wanted to be sick. I wanted to spoil the sweet, knight-in-shining-armor-bullshit appearance, James had managed to maintain. He was a real gem of a husband, all the while, fucking my best friend and the PTA bitches. I only knew he’d fucked two in the group of them, but there were several floating about the funeral, all crying. They smiled and pretended to be sad for my kids. It was a bit disgusting.

Every time I glanced at Mitch, I felt a sickening fury. His birth was a lie. Our marriage was a mistake. I was the girl James had accidentally gotten knocked up. The girl James wouldn’t have picked, had he had the choice. James, who was more than likely still alive and hiding out with his mistress, my best friend. Meanwhile, I would be going into a deep cover op and risking my life to keep his kids safe. I could have chewed my nails and spit bullets.

I glanced around the room, looking for the one man who would not fit into the party. The one man who was now in my life, because of my asshole husband who had apparently, burned to death in a car. God help him, if I ever found him alive and well.

What I saw around the room, broke my heart further. Jules was clung onto my mom; her sweet blue eyes were filled with tears, real tears. Crocodile tears, as James always called them. They seemed so big compared to her tiny face.

Next to her sat Mitch, looking stunned. I could tell he felt lost, like he might flee any second.

It all made me sick. My babies were crushed, James’ parents were devastated, and my mother was saddened by the loss, of yet another husband, in the family.

I excused myself from the people I was standing next to, who I wasn’t listening to anyway, and walked to the ladies’ room.

My breath was getting caught in my chest again. I leaned on the sink and took huge deep inhales. Looking up at my reflection, made me grimace. I was worried about the girl in the mirror. Her dark hair was greasy, at least it looked shiny in the tight bun. Her green eyes were flat and dull. No sparkle, no life lived in there. Her lips were cracked and she had a cold sore on the corner of her mouth. Her eyebrows had weeks of plucking to be done and her olive skin was blotchy. She was gaunt and sort of gray in the places that weren’t reddened. It was not the face of a woman who was going to win the confidence of an arms dealer. Those guys always hung with the blonde girls who had perfect bikini bodies and stylish sunglasses.

I looked at my tired-looking body and sighed. No wonder James was fucking Mel. I would have fucked her too. There was no scar from having his kids marring her stomach and her tits didn’t sag slightly from breastfeeding. She was fit and looked the way she always had. I was different though, my body was different. I imagined he liked the changes because they were associated with his children.

A sob tore from my lips as my momma-bear brain switched on. I wouldn’t let myself feel shame for the way I had changed. I had born children to that bastard. Well, now they were my kids—screw him. They were all mine. He could rot in Hell or Prague or Holland or wherever the hell he was, with the best friend I apparently never had.

My anger died when I caught a glimpse of the pain on my face.

I didn’t want them in Hell. I wanted them there with me. Even if it meant they were together and I was alone. It was better than really being alone, like I was. My nerves started to pick up, as the fears and stress started to become real. I wanted to do what all widows did, crawl into my bed and wait for a year to pass, before I had to function again.

I left the sink and opened the door to the bathroom, but the back of a black suit was barring the way.

"Excuse me," I muttered.

He slipped a card over his shoulder without looking back at me or turning at all. My stomach dropped. I took the card and looked at it.

"6 p.m. Presidential suite."

The card was for the Hilton downtown, in the financial district.

I frowned and looked up. The man was holding a fifty-dollar bill over his shoulder. I took it. "For the valet," he muttered and walked away from me.

He disappeared into the crowd of people wearing black.

I looked down at the fifty and the card. I wished Coop were with me. That was a bad sign. He was right, I was in over my head.

I slipped the cash and the card in my clutch and wiped my eyes, before walking back out into the wake.

My mom came up to me, smiling weakly, "I'm taking these guys home."

I swallowed and looked around the room. "I think they need some time away. You up for a road trip?"

Mom frowned, "What? Honey. We can't run away from our problems."

I shook my head. "It isn’t ours, but we may need to run anyway. We'll talk about this at home." I had so many things to tell her. Things that weren’t going to be easy. I had found forty-eight bugging devices and cameras in the house and garage. I figured Coop would be there with a team reinstalling them all.

My nerves were shot and when I looked at the picture of James at the memorial table, I felt worse. Worse because I wished he were there to solve this for me.

A hand reached out for mine, "I'm so sorry, Evie."

I looked up to see our neighbor from across the way, Jeff. I smiled and let him embrace me. He held me tight, "If you need anything—anything at all, just call."

I pulled back and nodded, "Thanks, Jeff." His wife Megan walked up and smiled compassionately.

"Honey, I am so sorry. James was the best." She looked distraught as she covered her face and started to cry again, "I…just…am so sorry."

I noticed the way Jeff's face tightened. He looked at me and smiled weakly, "She's been really broken up about it."

I nodded, "Of course. I better circulate." I turned and walked away. I didn’t circulate. I ran for the exit. I was going to be sick if I saw one more, teary-eyed woman. I was either becoming that jealous psycho widow/ex-wife, or I was actually accurate in my assumption he was also fucking our neighbor.