Rebecca looked at the line of riders. “All of you?” she whispered.
A woman near the end — short hair, late fifties, posture rigid as if still on duty — answered quietly. “He rode with us for fifteen years. He was Steel Covenant before he was anything else. That makes Harper ours too.”
Rebecca swallowed hard, glancing back toward the hallway where Harper stood half-hidden. “There haven’t been threats,” Rebecca said hesitantly.
“Not directly,” Ray answered. “But funerals make people visible. Widowed homes. Donation funds. News coverage. Not everyone who notices is kind.”
Earlier that afternoon, Rebecca had seen a car slow in front of the house twice. She had dismissed it as curiosity. But Daniel’s obituary had circulated widely online, mentioning a memorial fund established for Harper’s education. The world could be generous. It could also be opportunistic.
Officer Monroe spoke carefully. “You think someone might target them?”
Ray shook his head slightly. “I think grief makes people vulnerable. And vulnerable homes deserve presence.”
The rain softened to a steady curtain. Upstairs, Harper tugged at her aunt’s sleeve. “Are they Daddy’s friends?” she whispered.
Rebecca nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Why are they just standing there?”
