Vortex by Catherine Coulter

Serena

Bainbridge, Maryland

Fairlawn Cemetery

One and a half weeks later

So many people were here to honor Serena, finally home now after seven long years. Classmates from Godwyn, Tommy Maitland and Juliet Ash Calley, law enforcement officers from Creighton and from New York City, FBI agents from the New York City Field Office, and FBI agents Sherlock and Dillon Savich from Washington, as well as most of the staff from the Guardian. Of course the media was out in force, not unexpected given the high profile of Serena’s accused murderers. Mia and Milo had made calls requesting the Winters family not be approached, and were pleasantly surprised by other news outlets’ agreement. Everyone else was free game.

Father Chillworth remembered Serena’s baptism in his eulogy, spoke to how beautiful she’d been when he’d first held her in his arms, so small, so precious, never crying. He would never forget how she’d stared up at him, smiling, he’d said so later to her parents. He’d watched her play basketball, heard her sing in the choir in her lovely soprano, and he’d heard her confessions when she’d come home from college, usually about her boyfriend and all the temptations, but saying Tommy had never pushed her. He saw Tommy Maitland standing next to her parents, beside him the most beautiful woman Father Chillworth had ever seen. She was supporting him, Father Chillworth thought, squeezing his hand. Or maybe they were supporting each other.

Both Serena’s parents, Livvie and Gray Winters, stood tall, leaning into each other, their hands tightly clasped, their two surviving daughters hugged close. Father Chillworth talked of their devastating grief, their not knowing what had happened to their daughter for seven long years. He knew they would now find some peace, peace of a sort, though Serena’s death would always be a rent in the fabric of their lives.

The Winterses hadn’t wished to celebrate a mass, asked for only a graveside service. He hadn’t approved, but now that he saw the large, mixed crowd and the media, he knew it was the right thing to do. He met Mia Briscoe’s eyes, knew the role she’d played in finding Serena. Beside her stood a tall young man, obviously very close to her, his dark hair ruffled in the wind, and he was holding her hand. Good, she had someone there for her. He raised his hands and prayed. “—let your perpetual light shine upon her, and through your mercy rest with you in peace.” He looked directly at Mia Briscoe again as he ended with the ageless words that said so little yet meant so much. Simple words, both heartbreaking and comforting. “Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Tommy was grateful so many people were here for Serena, to celebrate her short life, grateful its violent end would finally land squarely on Alex Harrington and Kent Harper. He smiled at Gail Ricci, who’d flown from Rome to New York two days before, and now stood beside Mia, Travis Gilbert, Mia’s fiancé, on her other side, all staring straight ahead at Serena’s coffin covered with a blanket of white petunias, Serena’s favorite flower.

It was a cool early spring day, the sun bright overhead. Livvie Winters’s pale hand trembled as she gently laid a red rose atop the petunias. She whispered words no one heard before she turned into her husband’s arms. Serena’s two sisters hugged both of their parents.

Tommy stood over her coffin, said his good-byes with tears sheening his eyes, and laid his red rose beside the Winterses’. His father, mother, and three brothers formed a phalanx behind him, and Juliet stood beside him, holding her own red rose.

The line slowly moved until it was Mia’s turn. She looked down at the blanket of red roses that now covered the white petunias. She gently laid hers atop all the others and whispered through the tears streaking down her face, “I’m so sorry, Serena. You’ll be in my heart forever.” She turned slowly and was enfolded in Milo’s arms, then Travis’s. Most of the Guardian newsroom stood silent, ranging behind Milo.

When the service ended, Mia waited beside Gail and Sherlock for Travis and Dillon to get the car to take them back to the Winterses’ house. Sherlock lightly stroked her fingers over Mia’s face, wiping away tears, taking Mia’s gloved hands in hers. “You’re a formidable woman, Mia. It is my pleasure to have met you, to have worked with you. I only wish I had known Serena. She’d be so proud of you.”

Would she? What Mia knew for certain was that Serena would be her touchstone. She’d be forever the laughing girl walking with Tommy Maitland on Godwyn’s campus, their hands clasped as they swung their arms. She spotted Miles Lombardy, Alex Harrington’s senior staffer, standing alone beneath an ancient oak tree. She walked to him and took his hand. “Thank you for coming, Miles.”

He said quietly, “I am so sorry for what he did, what he might have continued doing if you hadn’t stopped him. Thank you.” He leaned down, lightly kissed her cheek, turned, and walked away through the rows of gravestones. Now, after seven years, Serena would have one of her own.

Beneath the brilliant blue sky, atop a hill close by, as Serena’s coffin was lowered into the ground, a lone bagpipe played “Amazing Grace.”