Chapter 8 - The Pink Ribbon in the Wind
The autumn air was crisp and cool as I walked up the gentle grassy slope of Oakridge Cemetery.
The leaves on the ancient oak trees had turned brilliant shades of amber, gold, and deep crimson, swirling softly in the light afternoon breeze. It was quiet here, far away from the noise of the city, the flash of news cameras, and the cold concrete walls of courtroom corridors.
I stopped at the top of the hill, where two headstones carved from pale white marble stood side by side under the shade of a massive willow tree.
Maya Lin Voss. Beloved Daughter and Sister. A Light in the Dark.
Beside her stone was a smaller, delicate marker.
Clara Voss. An Angel Sleeping in Peace.
I knelt down on the soft grass, my knees sinking slightly into the earth. I pulled a small pair of gardening shears from my tote bag, along with a fresh bouquet of white lilies and a roll of pale pink satin ribbon.
I carefully cleared away the fallen leaves from the base of the stones, placing the fresh white flowers gently in the bronze vase mounted to the marble. Then, I unrolled a length of the pink ribbon, tied a crisp, perfect bow around the top of Clara’s headstone, and trimmed the edges with the shears.
The satin caught the golden autumn sunlight, fluttering softly in the breeze.
My phone vibrated in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was an encrypted notification from my supervisor at the federal building downtown. A new case file had just been assigned to my desk—a complex international fraud ring operating out of Miami.
Work went on. The world kept turning. People kept lying, cheating, and trying to cover their tracks in the dark.
And I would be there to find them.
I slid the phone back into my pocket, placed my hand gently against the smooth white marble of my sister’s headstone, and leaned down to kiss the top of the cold stone.
“He’s never coming back, Maya,” I whispered into the quiet afternoon air. “He’s in the dark now. Forever.”
I stood up, adjusting my black trench coat against the rising wind. I looked at the tiny pink ribbon fluttering against Clara’s marker one last time, taking a deep, clean breath of the crisp autumn air.
For seven years, Daniel had thought I was just the quiet sister—the one who watched from the background, the one who didn't make scenes.
May you like
He was right about one thing. I was careful.
And as I walked down the hill toward my car, leaving the graveyard behind me under the golden sun, I knew that wherever Maya and Clara were, they were finally at rest.
