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They agreed reluctantly, and I started my cautious exploration of the room. Each step felt intrusive, a violation of the silent agreement between the living and the departed. My eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail. The room was neatly kept, a reflection of Dina's organized nature. Books lined the shelves, and a half-finished cup of tea sat on the coffee table, its contents cold and forgotten.
I moved slowly, respectful of the space and the life that had so recently departed from it. My mind raced, trying to piece together the scene, looking for anything out of place, anything that might hint at what had really happened.
The furniture was undisturbed, the cushions plump and the throw blankets folded neatly at the ends of the couch. Family photos smiled down from the walls, moments of joy forever captured in time. It all seemed so normal, so painfully ordinary for a scene that had ended in tragedy.
I paused, taking a deep breath. This was Dina's sanctuary, her home, and now it was a crime scene.
"Focus, Danny," I muttered under my breath. "Find the truth, that's what matters."
I needed to know if her death was somehow tangled in the drug case that had consumed me for months.
The dining room was pristine, dishes from a solitary dinner neatly stacked. I scanned the table, noting the mail spread out. Bills, a few personal letters, but nothing that hinted at illicit dealings.
With a deep breath, I forced myself to move on to Dina's office.
The office was meticulous, everything in its place. I started rifling through papers, flipping through files, searching for anything that might connect her to the drug ring.
"Damn it, Dina," I whispered, my voice lost in the quiet of the room. "What were you mixed up in?"
The sound of footsteps snapped me back to the present. Jake's voice carried down the hallway, urgent and low. "Danny, the coroner's on his way. You shouldn't be here. It's gonna raise questions, man."
I hesitated, a final glance sweeping over the room.
Chapter Four
Heather
Walking through the front door, I found my dad in the living room, his expression unusually somber.
"Heather, there's something you need to know," he began, his voice heavy with a sadness I hadn't heard in years.
I dropped my purse on the couch, a sense of foreboding washing over me. "What's wrong, Dad?"
He took a deep breath, his next words hitting me like a physical blow. "It's Aunt Dina. She passed away. They think it was a stroke."
My heart plummeted. Aunt Dina, the woman who had been a second mother to me, gone? And along with her, my chance to visit the ranch again. It couldn't be. "No, that can't be right. She was fine the last time we talked."
He came over, wrapping me in a hug as I tried to process the news. "I know, kiddo. It's a shock to all of us. The funeral is in a few days. We should go, pay our respects."
Numbness spread through me, the world seeming distant and muffled. I leaned into my dad's embrace, seeking comfort in the familiarity of his presence.
"We will," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "We have to say goodbye."
The next few days passed in a blur. My dad and I spoke little, each lost in our own thoughts, our own memories of Dina. We spent the evenings looking through old photo albums.
"Remember this?" Dad said, pointing to a photo of Dina and me at the ranch. I was about ten, grinning ear to ear as I sat atop a pony.
"Yeah," I replied, a sad smile tugging at my lips. "She made every visit feel like an adventure."
He nodded, his eyes misty. "She had a way of making everyone feel special. She's going to be missed."
The night before the funeral, I lay in bed, sleep eluding me. My mind replayed every moment I'd spent with Dina, each memory a precious keepsake I was afraid to lose. She had been a guiding force in my life, her love for horses igniting my own passion.
"Dina, I wish you could see me now," I whispered into the darkness, my voice choked with emotion. "I'm trying to follow my dreams, just like you always told me to."
The funeral loomed ahead, a final farewell I wasn't sure I was ready for. But I knew I owed it to Dina to honor her life and the impact she'd had on mine. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I made a silent promise to carry her spirit with me, to live my life with the same joy and passion she had shown me.
Morning came, gray and overcast, as if the sky itself mourned Dina's passing. My dad and I dressed in silence, each of us lost in our own private grief. We drove to the funeral in a somber silence, the weight of the day pressing down on us.
