After burying her parents, Jema would often wonder why funerals were gloomy, why the air seemed to be heavy and tense. The sky looked the same as it did back when she watched her beloved parents being rolled beneath the soil while unfamiliar faces threw in sticks of flowers, hardly any tears on their faces. She didn't blame them though, they didn't know her parents much to have shed a tear but that very day, she'd watched her gran-gran whimper like a trapped dog. She'd cried for a week straight until her eyes were without tears.

Now she stood gazing at the brown casket as the Rector read some Bible passage. The formalities weren't of any importance to her or to the man lying inside the box, cold from rigor mortis. He wasn't much of a believer but if this would help him rest in peace then she would abide by it. Her clouded eyes searched for the stranger within the handful of people who came to witness Jacob's funeral, hoping she'd crawl out of her hiding place for just once and pay her last respect to the man who gave her everything she'd owned.

Jema wasn't interested in the money, not as much as a superficial person would. Yes, twenty million dollars was life-changing and huge but the source of that life-changer was what keeled her over in her mind. Why would anyone risk keeping such a traceable amount of money when they could just work and earn some?

She dabbed at her moist face and bit the tip of her index finger. After she visited the monastery, the Reverend's mother denied her request to bury Jacob's remains on the monastery grounds due to the shocking discovery of his illegal activities. But had promised to be present on the occasion while they hoped to lure sister Mary-Anthony out.

But as the minutes passed, with Jema constantly sharing known signals to the few nuns around and then returning her questioning gaze with a subtle shrug that stated negatively, Jema knew they had probably underestimated sister Mary-Anthony. Jacob meant nothing to her, he was merely her cash cow, a means to an end. There was never love or loyalty in her heart for him and today proved it blatantly to Jema.

Her gran-gran beside her linked her quivering fingers with Jema's free one as the Rector ordered the wheels to be lowered. Then it hit her!

That Jacob was gone, forever.
That he'd been unjustly killed and thrown to the sharks. That his enemies still roamed around freely and unscathed.

But her heart sank with the realization that as much as she hardly knew her husband, the part of her she'd fallen in love with, that sweet, tender side to him that brought light into her darkness was gone forever. Every laughter they ever shared, every time he offered his shoulders for her to cry on.

All the midnight whispers of promises to protect her were gone. She was alone, again. She'd yet incurred another loss.
She wished she'd taped every single moment with him, all those times he'd shied away from the camera. She had few pictures of them together, most of what she had was in her mind but the mind was fuzzy and forgetful.

"Mrs. Delray," someone spoke from behind her as she made to return to the car after throwing in a shovel of brown sand and a few of Jacob's possessions into the grave. She turned to stare at the unexpected visitor.

"Sir..." his name was what she searched for, it was somewhere in her mind, vague.

He did her the favor of ending her torture. "Officer Murray, your late husband's boss at—"

"At the USSS headquarters. I remember," Jema finished. "You came," she said, surprised.

He walked her towards her car. "Yes, I had to. You know after your visit the other day I've been thinking about how poorly my department handled your husband's death. The fact that he was one of our best men and after his death, he got shoved under the rug like nothing happened. It's a poor image for the US Security service to have."

"What do you want to do about it then?! My husband just got buried today. Are you going to seek medical investigation and have his remains exhumed for forensic purposes? Is that why you're here?"

He held his hands up. "If it were within my powers I'd have carried out an autopsy and found the true cause of his death, Jema, but that's not the only way I can help." He bit the side of his lower lip and said. "Your husband was on a very delicate mission when he was killed and I think I have an idea what that mission spiraled into,"

Her eyes grew at his revelation. She looked around her to see the numbers depreciating as the little crowd seemed to be done with their pity tears. "And..." she urged him.

"But I need to know something else from you Jema. You have to be honest with me. That's the only way I can get to the root of this." He eyed her to make sure she agreed with him. "I need to know if your husband had any funds stashed away in some foreign bank with what pseudonym or crypto or whatever means he can use to hide a very huge amount of money,"

She watched his predator's eyes stare into hers, searching and waiting to see if she'd give off any sign of weakness. He wanted the twenty million for himself. Officer Murray was nothing but a scum, he'd somehow discovered Jacob's money laundering operation and now he was here sniffling through a dead man's belongings. There and then, Jema was glad to have encountered a man like Theodore Newman who had the best poker face one could ever imagine.

Even in the face of war, Theodore's expression never faltered. No wonder she'd picked up the same attitude.

"How much money is that?" She lured him, just to be sure it was the same amount the Reverend's mother had spoken of. But Officer Murray seemed to be reluctant to give her such information.

Did he think she'd want a share as well? Jema scoffed at his avaricious personality.

"I'll take your leave now," she made to enter her car but he stopped her.

"Roughly forty million, in dollars,"

"What?" She feigned shock, but yeah, she didn't think it was more than twenty. She held her chest like the news had her in shock.

"That's about what we can calculate,"

We?

"Good God, Jacob can be anything. A spy, a diver, or even an alien from another world but if he had such an amount of money that could take me away from penury I'm certain he'd have handed it to me. My husband put all his earnings into starting up a family. We bought a new house not far from the city center but I sold it when he disappeared. We had a car, on the mortgage, yeah but worth it. So you see, we were living like every middle-class family would officer. Or is there something else you're not telling me?"

"Mrs. Delray—"

"Jema, please call me Jema."

"Right, Jema. I understand that you have no idea of such things but maybe there's... can I have access to some of his belongings? I could find something helpful there. In my line of work, men like Jacob and I don't live straight lives. We don't keep money the way everyone else does, we have a pattern and only I can figure him out."

Her face grew cold, her shoulders stiffened as she stared angrily at him. "You couldn't even wait for his corpse to rest for a day in the soil? You couldn't have the decency to wait at least a fortnight before requesting his belongings? To... to yet again soil the memory of him like you did before?"

"Jema," gran-gran called from behind. "Who is he?" She glared bitterly at the stupefied-looking officer.

"I'm Officer Murray, I worked with Jacob or..."

"Leave!" Jema shot at him before he could spill the beans to her ignorant grandmother. "I don't ever wanna see you here again officer, keep your distance."

On their way home, she'd thought over the missing money and why suddenly everyone seemed to have an idea of it at the same time. The Reverend's mother, Jema, and now Officer Murray who had sniffed his way into her den. She knew from the tenacious look on his face that that wasn't the end, he'll keep coming around but woe unto him when he discovered she was only here for some time.

Everything was a mess, her head was reeling with several thoughts. How to figure out Jacob's death, the money involved, and the whereabouts of sister Mary-Anthony. Jema had no skills or contacts to help her get to the root of her problems. Even if she searched for them, where would she start?

She needed someone with an expertise in criminology. And there was only one man who came to mind. Theodore Newman.

She smiled to herself remembering she was soon to be reunited with him. She hoped he missed her as much as she did.