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Chapter 754:
“Chief,” he said. “Cole Compton. I have a situation. Vandalism. Desecration of a family plot. I want your CSI team here immediately—full forensic sweep. And I want the security footage from every camera within a two-mile radius.” He paused, listening. “No, I don’t care what time it is. I don’t care about your budget. This is a Compton family matter now. You’ll be compensated p>
He ended the call and looked at June.
She had stepped back from him. Just one step, but enough to put space between them, enough to let the rain fall on her face again, washing away the tears.
“Thank you,” she said. Her voice was hollow, automatic. “But I don’t need your charity p>
Cole’s jaw tightened. She saw the muscle jump, the flare of something in his eyes that might have been anger or might have been pain.
“June p>
𝘈𝖼𝘵𝗂𝘷𝗲 c𝗈𝘮𝘮𝘂𝗻і𝘵y 𝘰𝘯
“Don’t.” She raised a hand. It was shaking, she noticed—covered in red paint and mud and blood from where her nails had torn. “Don’t say my name like that. Don’t pretend you care. This—” she gestured at the desecrated stone, “—this is what your world does. It destroys things. It poisons everything it touches p>
She turned away from him. Her ankle screamed in protest, but she ignored it. She had to get away—had to find the gate, the car, someplace where she could be alone with her grief.
“Miss Erickson p>
A woman’s voice. June turned and saw a police cruiser idling at the edge of the path, its lights painting the rain red and blue. A female officer was approaching, umbrella held high, concern on her face.
“We got a call about vandalism—about two hours ago, but the storm held us up. Are you—oh my god, your hands p>
“I’m fine,” June said. She wiped her palms on the coat, leaving streaks of red. “I don’t need medical attention. I need—” She stopped. Looked at the officer, at the cemetery, at the mess her life had become. “I need to leave p>
“Ma’am, we should really get you checked out. And we’ll need a statement p>
“Check the ground by the flowers,” June said, her voice sharp and precise. “There’s a cigarette butt. Virginia Slims. It’s Susan Beasley’s brand.” She looked at Cole, saw him watching her with those dark eyes, saw the way his hands were clenched at his sides. “I suspect Susan Beasley hired someone to do this. Start your investigation with her. Check her financials, her phone records. Find the money. Arrest her p>
The officer blinked. “Ma’am, we can’t just p>
“Do your job,” June said. “Or I’ll find someone who will p>
She turned and walked toward the gate, her right foot dragging, her shoulders hunched against the rain.
She did not look back to see if Cole was following.
But she knew he was.
The cemetery’s main drive was flooded, water rushing across the asphalt in a shallow river. June splashed through it, her shoes filling, her toes going numb.
Behind her, she heard the low purr of an engine. Headlights swept across her back, throwing her shadow long and black against the wet ground.
The car stopped. A door opened.
“Get in,” Cole said.
She did not stop walking.
“June. You’re going to collapse. You’re going to p>
“Go to hell p>