Chapter 15

Suzi splashed her face with cool water, willing her racing heart to slow down. The sterile hospital hallway stretched before her, leading back to the ICU room where Ricky chatted with the officer on guard. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

“Everything alright?” Ricky glanced up as she approached.

“Just some bureaucratic bullshit I won’t tolerate,” Suzi replied, her voice tight.

“I was just informing Officer Sanchez here that our patient has some guests,” Ricky explained. “Since you weren’t around, I vouched for them.”

“Who?” Suzi asked, caught off guard.

“Aiden’s parents and Reed and Rio,” Ricky said, surprised by her questioning. He must have assumed she was expecting their arrival.

“Shit! They got here fast.”

Suzi barely slowed down as she collided with Reed, the solid wall of his presence. Despite being only minutes apart in age, he towered over Rio—a linebacker built from lean muscle. His long blond hair was pulled up in a bun, and she hugged him tightly. Rio joined the embrace, tears streaming down her face.

“Thank you for coming,” Suzi mumbled into Reed’s heavy fleece shirt.

After a minute of hugging, they separated, and Suzi greeted her in-laws, Owen and Ruth. She had broken Aiden’s heart, and she expected their hatred, but there was no sign of it now. The years hadn’t been kind—Ruth’s hair was entirely grey, and Owen’s thin arms bore liver spots and wrinkles she didn’t remember.

“How is Aiden doing?” Ruth’s voice trembled.

Suzi shook her head. “He’s in really rough shape. I need you all to be prepared.”

“Is he talking or awake?” Owen’s eyes bore into hers.

Suzi realized she hadn’t shared the full extent of Aiden’s injuries or his coma status. “No,” she admitted. She motioned for them to sit in the same room where she’d spoken with the detectives, closing the door behind them.

“Aiden was badly attacked and beaten,” she began. “He has several broken bones and burns.”

“Burns?” Reed’s voice cracked.

“Yes. He’s basically in a full-body cast. They’ve performed surgeries and put him in a coma to keep him stable and allow his injuries to heal.”

“So, he’s on life support,” Owen stated flatly.

“He’s on a ventilator, but his heart and brain activity are functioning on their own.”

“Can we see him?” Rio’s eyes pleaded.

Suzi nodded, forcing a smile. “Yes, baby. Let’s go see him.”

She led them down the hall past Ricky, still chatting with Officer Sanchez and Father Gil. Suzi awkwardly introduced her family, and they exchanged greetings. A second officer, Officer Carter, approached would take over guard duty for the next few hours, relieving Officer Sanchez of his shift.

Ricky stopped her before she opened the door. “I need to take off too.” He handed her the car keys. “I’ll catch an Uber, but let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Phineas told me some things,” Suzi said, her expression a mix of curiosity and gratitude.

“Oh, boy. Can’t wait,” Ricky laughed and walked away.

As she opened the door, emotions swirled. Reed stood silently in the back, Rio clinging to him. Ruth’s hand rested on Reed’s exposed leg, and Owen studied the monitors attached to Aiden’s motionless form.

Father Gil stood beside her. “How is your friend?” he asked, tapping his forehead.

“Meh,” Suzi mouthed without sound, wobbling her hand in a fifty-fifty motion.

They stood in silence, a hushed gathering around Aiden’s hospital bed. Rio finally released her grip on her brother and hugged her mom. Then she joined her grandmother at Aiden’s leg. Officer Carter stepped in, followed by a nurse.

“Sorry,” the nurse said, “but ICU policy limits visitors to two family members.”

Father Gil spoke up. “Can we have a prayer circle first?”

The nurse nodded and exited the room. The group formed a circle, hands clasped. Rio held Aiden’s leg, Ruth’s hand in hers. Suzi held Ruth’s hand, and Father Gil’s hand rested in hers. Reed joined his grandfather, placing his hand on Aiden’s cast leg. Father Gil shifted to the right, completing the circle with Owen, who remained seated.

“Let’s bow our heads and pray,” Father Gil began. “Dear Heavenly Father…”

With each word the priest prayed, Suzi felt a weight lifting. The burden of fear and uncertainty eased. Father Gil concluded, “…in Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” they mumbled in unison. Father Gil made the sign of the Holy Cross over himself and then repeated it in the air above Aiden’s foot.

“I need to go to the funeral home,” Suzi announced.

“I want to stay with Dad,” Rio said, her eyes teary.

“That’s fine, baby,” Suzi replied.

“I’ll stay with her,” Ruth added. “Owen and Reed can wait in the waiting room, and we’ll swap in an hour.”

Reed helped his grandfather up from the reclining chair, and they left the room. Suzi paused in the hallway to thank Father Gil.

“Thanks for coming, David. I appreciate the prayer.”

“God is always here,” Father Gil said. “He listens even when we talk to ourselves or in our hearts. You don’t need me to intercede.”

She smiled, which faded to a look of awe and realization.

“Yeah, it gets spooky when you think about that, doesn’t it?” he smiled.

Lost in thought, she came back to the conversation. “Huh? Oh yeah. I guess I need to stop cussing at myself as much,” she joked.

“Where did you go just now?” he asked her.

“You gave me an idea,” Suzi replied. “I’ll let you know how it works out.” She hugged him. “I’ve got to go to the funeral home.”

Before she could leave, Father Gil pulled out a small jewelry box. “As a token of our friendship,” he said, “and for added protection, should you need it.”

Inside the box lay a delicate silver pendant on a fine chain.

Suzi looked at him, puzzled. “I may have the guilt, but you know I’m not actually Catholic, right, David?”

He smirked. “Not yet, anyway. You don’t have to be Catholic for the saints to protect you. This is St. Joseph of Arimathea. He is considered the patron saint of morticians. He was the man responsible for bathing, shrouding, and entombing Jesus’ body after the crucifixion.”

“Thank you, Father.” She hugged him. “Keep in touch.” She slid the necklace over her head and tucked the pendant in her shirt.

“You too. God bless.”

* * * * *

Suzi stepped out of the hospital and slid into her car, her mind already racing ahead. The plan she was developing consumed her thoughts, leaving little room for anything else—even driving. She marveled at how she hadn’t caused an accident, her focus so intense that the world outside blurred into insignificance. But for now, she had to shift gears. Work demanded her attention.

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Suicide victims held a special place in Suzi’s heart. She didn’t see their actions as selfish or judge them. Instead, she understood that they grappled with pain—physical, emotional, or mental—that they couldn’t bear any longer. They sought escape, and she wished they’d found help. Perhaps they had, but like her own experiences seeking help, it hadn’t improved matters. When dealing with their remains, Suzi took extra care, ensuring every detail was handled with respect and compassion. If she had her way, she’d work exclusively with suicide victims and families who’d lost babies or children. These losses were different, raw, and deserved the utmost reverence.

The funeral home’s backdoor creaked as Suzi entered. She changed into her work clothes, the familiar routine grounding her. Gracie Lynn, Nick’s youngest child and only daughter, walked in. Lynn had followed in her father’s footsteps, choosing the mortuary path. Her mother’s death had hit her hard, but growing up in the funeral industry had prepared her for the reality. Lynn had graduated from high school the previous year and now studied mortuary science remotely from an Indiana school. Besides Nick, Lynn was Suzi’s favorite person at the funeral home.

“Hi, Suzi! How have you—” Lynn’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of the blood-tinged gauze over Suzi’s stitches on her left ribcage. “Oh my! That’s a nasty wound. Is that why you were in the hospital last week?”

Suzi shrugged. “No, I just got this two days ago. I fell on a mirror.” She rolled her eyes, acknowledging her own clumsiness, and adjusted the gauze for Lynn’s inspection.

“Wow,” Lynn said, leaning in for a closer look. “Aside from the bruising, it looks like it’s healing well.”

Suzi turned to the mirror, raising her left arm to examine the wound. It wasn’t as tender as she’d expected, and the bruising was minimal.

“Tom did an amazing job,” she thought, grateful for the skilled hands that had stitched her up.

As she slid her blouse back on, Suzi glimpsed her reflection. Weight loss had left her clothes looser, revealing a body she hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“Stress must be a good diet,” she mused. “How’s school going?” Suzi asked Lynn, curious about her studies.

Lynn hesitated. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to tell Dad or Livi.”

“Sure,” Suzi agreed, intrigued.

“We wouldn’t tell Livi anything. We wouldn’t piss on her if she were on fire,” Judy scoffed.

Lynn took a deep breath. “I’m thinking about leaving school. I want to be a doctor instead.”

Suzi’s shock must have shown. “Oh, Lynn!”

“I know all this stuff,” Lynn continued. “And I feel like I could do more good trying to save lives than helping families cope afterward.”

Suzi smiled, hugging the girl. “Sweetie, talk to your dad. He’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“But he’ll be disappointed I’m not following the funeral path.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Suzi reassured her. “Whatever you choose, you’ll be awesome.”

Lynn laughed. “I wish you were my new mommy.”

They chatted as Suzi finished dressing. She left the room and headed to the intake board, scanning the names. She found the person with a cause of death listed as “suicide - gun” and wrote her name next to theirs as the authorized embalmer. She began running in her mind the situation that Mr. Devin Bowers had experienced leading up to his untimely demise as she entered her passcode into the embalming room.

“Shotgun selfie!” Doyle came up the hall, mimicking a gun in his mouth.

“Shut the fuck up, Doyle! Show some God damned respect, you fucking, piece of shit idiot.” Typically, his shenanigans just irked her, but disrespecting the dead was a line she did not tolerate.

“Whoa, hot stuff! Save some of that dirty talk for the bedroom.” He shot his million-dollar salesman smile and saddled beside her, unphased that she had just tried to put him in his place. “So, do you want to go get some lunch later? Maybe a hotel room?”

“What.”

This was not a question but a statement of confusion and astoundment. Doyle had always hinted that he wanted a romantic relationship with her but never outright proposed a date or a hook-up.

“Well, you know. I gave you a ride home yesterday. And I think it’s only fair to call in the favor.”

“Do it! Do IT! It’ll be fun!” Annie proposed eagerly.

“We wouldn’t fuck him with Livi’s vagina,” touted Suzanne.

“Bitch! Some STD’s can’t be cured with penicillin,” James added.

“Doyle…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the conversation in her head. “I’m doing you a favor by letting you keep your teeth right now.”

She opened the door, shut it in his face, and set the lock so it could not be opened without the physical key, which she knew he had access to, but hoped that it made her point that she did not want to be bothered nor should she be trifled with.

She found Mr. Bowers’ file. He was young—only 22. Nick had already gathered photos of the young man from the family and x-rays of his skull. Suzi scanned the photos into the 3-D modeling software, meticulously resizing them to match the same resolution. She linked these images to the corners of a 3-D rendered wire-frame head, overlaying the measurements from the x-rays. The result: a negative representation of the skull, highlighting the portions that needed replacement. Ideally, the entire piece would print as one, but this situation required a different approach.

Mr. Bowers had lost his orbital and nasal bones, part of his jaw, and a significant portion of the back of his skull. Suzi adjusted the software settings carefully. When faced with such complex cases, she’d create a frame—a scaffold—between multiple printed pieces. This framework would stabilize the replacement parts within the cavity, allowing for proper tissue attachment and modeling clay.

The 3-D printer hummed to life, its delicate layers forming the intricate puzzle of Mr. Bowers’ missing skull. Suzi changed into her protective gear, entered the embalming floor, and opened Mr. Bowers’ door. She pulled out the drawer, her gloved hands gentle as she examined the body.

“I don’t know what you were going through,” she whispered, “but I hope you’re at peace now, Devin.” Her words hung in the sterile air.

Using the lift, she transferred his body to the prep table and wheeled it to the wash station. The ritual began: bathing, massaging muscle groups, and sanitizing. As she worked, relief washed over her—no other self-inflicted injuries or scars hinted at a tortured past. Perhaps Mr. Bowers had faced his demons silently.

The embalming fluid mixture filled the tank. Suzi made precise incisions for input and output, her hands steady. In cases like this, where open tissue lay exposed, manual embalming was essential. She prepared large syringes, injecting the fluid with care. Her focus shifted to the neck, the remnants of his lower lip, the cheeks, and the scalp. Every trace of blood had to be removed, ensuring secure attachment for the printed replacement pieces.

Gloves off, PPE discarded, Suzi stepped into her office. The 3-D print still had an hour to go. For the past few hours, she’d been immersed in her work, detached from thoughts of Aiden, Ygritte, and Dr. Adamson. The calm surprised her—a respite from the chaos that had consumed her life.

“Time to see what else I’ve missed,” she murmured.

Unlocking the door, she stepped into the hallway. Lynn, her favorite person at the funeral home, was on the phone. The family meeting room stood empty. Suzi checked the schedule: John McGillicuddy’s wake was imminent, officiated by Doyle. She’d pay her respects before any legal entanglements caught up with her.

Room One held Mr. McGillicuddy, laid out in a navy-blue suit. Suzi’s heart warmed—they’d managed to secure the blue spruce casket. Most coffins were metal, built for durability, but she knew this wood was special. It had adorned the handle of Mr. McGillicuddy’s first hunting knife—a cherished memory from his youth. His pre-need arrangements allowed him to choose, even in death.

As Suzi gazed at him, her eyes fell to his breast. Four military medals adorned his suit—the Purple Heart, Navy Silver Star, Navy Cross, and Medal of Honor—the highest honors earned through sacrifice and valor. She wondered about the stories behind those medals—the courage, the battles, the lives touched—that he never shared with her.

“It’s good to see you again, John. I’m sor–“

A deep void filled her vision, and her voice, ‘I’m sorry,’ echoed as if it were in a vast, empty cave. This was not the void. This was not Guillermo. But she had the same floating feeling as she did when she was in those places.

“Hello?” she called out, but it only echoed.

“Shall we bind the demon?” Judas’ voice seemed to come from behind her, and she instinctively turned, but the blackness was the same, and she couldn’t even tell if he was turning.

“What?”

“Shall we bind the demon to this vessel?” Judas asked again.

“Azail-“

Before she could finish the demon's name, another voice rattled her back into reality.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” an older, shorter, more robust woman asked after crossing about half the room.

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Suzi. I am one of the funeral directors here at Eternal Springs.”

She took a step toward the woman and held out her hand.

“Suzi? You are Suzanne Burch?” The woman turned instantly angry, her cheeks flushing bright red, highlighting her deep brown hair, graying at the temples.

“Yes.” Suzi withdrew her hand, sighed inwardly, and suspected she knew where this conversation was headed. “I know I...”

The slap was unexpected and strong. Her face stung as she moved her head to the left and her hand flew to her face. Before she could even recoil, she felt the hefty woman’s arms wrap around her and about 240 pounds of force tackling her to the floor.

“GET HER JUDAS!!” Judy cheered.

“What the hell, lady!” Suzi yelled and tried to push the woman off of her.

Suzi’s heart raced as the woman’s fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back. She braced herself for Judas—the fierce, protective alter ego—to emerge and unleash hell. But the punch to her nose was all too real, and her skull collided with the unforgiving floor. No supernatural warrior came to her aid.

Blinking away tears, Suzi squinted at the blurry figure looming over her. The woman drew back her fist, ready to strike again. Suzi’s mind raced.

“What do you want?” Suzi’s voice cracked as she flailed, her vision obscured.

Her arm brushed the woman’s face, and instinct kicked in. Suzi pulled back, swinging her elbow with all her might. The impact jarred her, and the woman screamed, stumbling away. Suzi rolled to the other side, scrambling to her knees. She wiped her eyes, the pain in her nose a sharp reminder of her vulnerability.

Doyle burst into the room, confusion etching his features. “What’s going on in here?”

“This woman attacked me,” Suzi blurted out, her voice raw, her cheek burned.

The other woman whimpered, huddled against the pew.

Doyle rushed to her aid, offering comfort., “I’m sorry, Miss McGillicuddy. We are usually more professional than this.”

“I want her out of here. I want her away from my father.”

Her right eyebrow was split open and bleeding.

She couldn’t blame Miss McGillicuddy for wanting her gone. Throwing up her arms in frustration, Suzi stormed out. The hallway blurred as she walked, seeking refuge in the private bathroom. Locking the door, she faced the mirror. Her hair was a mess, her cheek reddened, but no blood marred her skin.

“Where were you, Judas?” Suzi’s inner voice demanded. “I thought you were my warrior.”

“There was no danger,” Judas replied, matter-of-fact.

“It sure hurt like there was going to be danger,” Suzi shot back.

“There was no demon,” Judas corrected.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Suzi muttered aloud, her adrenaline fading. She leaned against the sink, wondering how she’d ended up in this chaotic mess.