The Departed

was tomorrow, and it would seem there was no peace coming anytime soon. It was a concern, because unrest made people jumpy, made them look.
    Not that there was much to see, after all. But still, it was a concern. But no one that would stop this special day. It only came once a year, after all.
    * * *
     
    YOU stupid motherfucker. Brendan stared at Beau, resisting the urge to get up and wrap his hands around the idiot’s neck and just squeeze . “What in the hell were you thinking?”
    “We know it’s him,” Beau said simply, staring at Brendan with a blank look. Like he wanted some sort of pat on the head.
    “And your point is…?”
    “What are we supposed to do? Just be quiet and not say anything?” Beau shook his head. “We got to do something before he runs his mouth.”
    Across the room, Kyle laughed. “Shit, you’ve taken one hit too many in football, Beau. Anything happens now , it automatically looks worse for us, and since we’re all friends, it looks worse on all of us. Can you at least tell us he hit his head hard enough that he won’t remember what happened?”
    Beau reached up and scratched at his scalp, looking confused.
    “Guess we can take that as a no,” Kyle muttered.
    Brendan sighed. Kyle swore and then looked at Brendan. “What the fuck do we do now?”
    Brendan shook his head and stared at Beau for a long minute. He had ideas. But he didn’t want to do anything until he knew what was going on with Mark first. Shit. How in the world had everything gotten so screwed up?
    He blew out a breath and shook his head. “Listen to me, damn it.” He pointed at Beau and bit off, “Listen good. You don’t do anything else. You got it? That was so fucking stupid.”
    “But…”
    “No.” Brendan shook his head. “Just shut up and listen. You could have fucked all of us. You don’t tell the others; you don’t mention this. It didn’t happen , you hear me?”
    “O-okay.” Beau nodded, licking his lips. “It didn’t happen.”
    Brendan turned away and shoved a hand through his hair, his mind racing furiously. “We need to just keep it cool, play it easy. We don’t have school tomorrow, so that’s good. And I heard my dad talking with somebody from the school board about either canceling school for Tuesday or setting up counseling and shit, because of what happened at the hotel and shit. They think we’re ‘traumatized.’ ”
    He’d drop a few comments, see if he couldn’t get his dad to throw his weight for an extra day off. They needed to make sure Beau wasn’t going to lose his mind again—Beau of all people. Shit.
    * * *
     
    THE day that Taylor Jones dreaded was almost here. Tomorrow. Fuck. It was tomorrow. The flowers were already ordered—he’d taken care of that earlier in the week, thank God. Daisies. Anna had always loved daisies.
    One more fucking day. Then it was behind him for another year. Another year for him to wonder and wait for there to be news. But there never was. Not that he hadn’t looked, quietly. But the trail had long since gone cold. He wouldn’t admit, though, not even to himself, that he’d never know what had happened to her.
    One more day…and already, he couldn’t think of anything but her, his sweet kid sister who made him laugh so easily. Part of him wished the damn phone would ring, that Dez would need him for something, just so he could escape these thoughts for a few hours longer. Until tomorrow, please God, just until tomorrow.
    But Anna deserved better than that.
    He’d been awake since before dawn and it had found him sitting in his bed, staring at nothing as he went back and thought of every last little detail about the girl.
    Her smile. The way she laughed. The times she’d gotten him in trouble for pranks she’d come up with. And how he hadn’t minded so much—because it had been Anna.
    And he remembered the horror as they all realized she was missing. All these years…never knowing. The bitch of his job was that he knew he’d probably never know. That her killer would likely go unpunished.
    “Anna…God, I’m sorry.” A tear slid free and rolled down his cheek. Taylor didn’t bother wiping it away.
    He missed his baby sister.
    * * *
     
    DEZ climbed out of the car, ignoring the dry, skittering whispers that danced along her flesh as she placed one booted foot on cemetery ground. People who thought ghosts were stronger at night were clueless. Ghosts didn’t care what time of day it was.
    Right now the