Haunted

CHAPTER 63

I’D BEEN TO THE FUNERAL OF ONE OTHER LAW ENFORCEMENT agent—Warren Williams’ “son,” Ortiz. Max’s funeral is full of the same militaristic pomp and circumstance. Over a hundred agents are in attendance as well as high-ranking officials of the DEA and its Mexican counterpart. I’d forgotten that Max had been a marine until a twenty-one-gun salute echoes like ancient thunder over the hills of Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery. As Max had no family, the flag that draped his casket is taken to be flown on the cemetery’s Avenue of Flags.

David came with me to the funeral. He and Max were never friends, but he respected him. He also knew that Max and I had been lovers once. He was the first one on my doorstep when he heard of Max’s death. He holds my hand and lets me lean on him as the proceedings come to a close. One by one the guests leave.

Now we’re the only ones left. I insisted on staying out of sight during the service. I hate funerals. I’ve never been comfortable sharing my feelings, especially with strangers. David didn’t question it. He’s never been big on public displays of emotion, either, and he knows my history—I lost a brother when I was seventeen. There were enough public displays of emotion at that funeral to last an eternity.

I touch David’s arm. “You can go now, David. I appreciate your coming with me, but I’d like a few minutes alone.”

He looks around at the deserted gravesite. “How will you get home?”

“I’ll go back to the caretaker’s office and call a taxi,” is what I say. In my head, I’m thinking a little physical exercise, like an eight-mile run home along the Pacific, is just what I need to clear my head. I dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and athletic shoes this morning for just that reason. And as another excuse to stay out of sight of the more traditionally clad mourners.

I knew Max would understand.

David nods and leans over to kiss my cheek. He doesn’t ask why. He doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He simply leaves.

I wait until he’s gone before approaching Max’s grave.

I kneel down and touch the side of the casket. “Culebra sends his love. He couldn’t come, Max. He didn’t want to leave Adelita and she doesn’t have her formal papers yet. He was afraid they’d have trouble getting back across the border. I think it was more than that, though. He knows you were shot with one of those ATF rifles. He’s sick about it. I told him you didn’t hold him responsible, that it’s more the fault of the ATF genius who thought up the gun sting, but he doesn’t believe it. Maybe you could tell him, pay him a visit the way you did me?”

I stand up and pull a rose out of one of the floral arrangements and drop it onto the casket.

“Thanks for saying good-bye, Max,” I whisper. “Sorry if I held you up. Safe journey.”