Through a Dark Lens:

The Funeral, pt 3.

Written by David A. Davis

Illustrated by Ram Lama

Since the doctor’s death you’ve been admittedly nervous about living on the property. Thankfully you found that Pavel had a handgun tucked away in his cabin. If only he had been carrying it when he was attacked…

You push that out of your mind. You place the small handgun into your purse. It is unloaded, but you place three bullets into a small pocket inside the lining of the purse. It’s better to carry the gun unloaded, but have access to the bullets should you need them. You never really found guns to be interesting, but your father was a hunter and as a child he introduced you to gun safety early. You were a fast runner in high school and college, so you know you can put some distance between yourself and an attacker in order to load the gun.

You bundle up your research and place it into Pavel’s desk, locking it up. It’s best left here, locked up for now. You need to get to the funeral.

It pleases you to see how well-liked Dr. Pavel was. He was a pillar in the community in many ways and his service reflects that. You sit next to Erin, who seems more together now, but still very sad. She does not seem to want to pull her eyes from the ground. Next to her is Abigail, who looks solemn, but relatively unemotional. You’re also quite aware of Howard and Martha lurking behind you, but thankfully they’ve been respectful about giving you your space. You even recall running into Detective Tetsuya before the service, but you haven’t had a chance to talk to him.

    Your eyes however, keep drifting over to the empty seat to your right. You’ve spoken to Alec, Pavel’s grandson, just once, but beyond that it’s been e-mails to communicate details of the upcoming service. He indicated he was coming in your last e-mail discussion a week before, but there’s been no sign of him otherwise.

You turn to view the rest of the cemetery and notice a tall figure moving toward you. You lean forward to catch Abigail’s eyes and gesture with your head and eyes behind her. She takes a look, turns back to you, and shrugs. She is not sure who it is.

    “Are you Mika?” the man asks.

    “Yes, please, take a seat. Alec, correct?”

    He smiles halfheartedly and he slides into the chair. “Yes, thank you for arranging all of this.”

    You try to reassure him with your smile. “It was an honor on my part.”