As soon as she thought it, Harper dismissed the idea. There was no way her sister would have anything to do with hurting anybody, let alone someone she cared about like Bernie.
But then again, Harper had seen firsthand what the sirens had been able to do, not just to Bernie but to Luke Benfield and the other boys they’d killed. The sirens were evil, so it wasn’t unreasonable to think that Gemma could act monstrous, too.
The service was about to start, so Brian and Harper took their seats. It was a small room in the back of the funeral home, filled with thirty or so folding chairs, and most of them were empty. Since they seemed to be the closest to Bernie during his last years, Brian and Harper sat in the front row.
The pastor gave his brief sermon, then invited people up to say a few words. Harper didn’t think that her dad had planned on saying anything, but when nobody else got up, Brian rose and stood in front of the casket.
“Um, I’m Brian Fisher,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Most of you know me from working out at the docks, and I suppose that’s how you knew Bernie, too.”
Brian kept his eyes down when he spoke, and Harper knew it was because he didn’t want anyone to see the tears pooling in them. When he glanced up at her, she smiled reassuringly, and that seemed to embolden him a bit.
“I’ve known Bernie for over twenty years.” He gestured to the coffin behind him. “He was a hard worker and hardly missed a day in all the time we worked together. He took me under his wing, and outside of work he was a good friend.
“When my wife—” His voice caught in his throat, and he paused a moment to collect himself. “He, um, he took care of my girls when I couldn’t, and for that I will be forever grateful. I don’t know what would’ve happened to my family if it hadn’t been for Bernie.”
Tears filled Harper’s eyes as she listened to her father talk.
“I had the pleasure of seeing him a few days ago,” Brian went on. “And he was as spry and happy as ever. He still had so much life in him.” He let out a long breath, then turned to the coffin. “At least you get to be with your wife now, Bernie. I know you’ve been waiting a long time to see her.”
He looked back at the pastor awkwardly. “I guess that’s all I have to say. Thank you.”
The pastor thanked him as Brian hurried to his seat. He exhaled deeply as he collapsed next to Harper. She looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder.
“That was very sweet, Dad,” she told him. “Bernie would’ve liked that.”
The service finished up shortly afterward. The pastor asked people to come out to the cemetery for the burial if they liked, but most of the attendees seemed to be leaving.
Brian and Harper got up with the intention of heading out to their car when a man in a gray suit approached them. He looked familiar, but everybody in Capri looked familiar. The town wasn’t that big, so even if Harper didn’t personally know certain people, she’d probably seen them around.
“You’re Brian Fisher?” the man asked.
“That’s right,” Brian said cautiously.
“I’m Dean Stanton, Bernie’s lawyer.” The man stuck out his hand, but Brian was slow to shake it.
“Bernie had a lawyer?” Brian sounded genuinely surprised. “What did Bernie need a lawyer for?”
“I handled his will and his estate,” Dean said. “And I’ve been meaning to get in touch with you.”
“What for?” Harper asked, inserting herself in the conversation.
“He’s named you, Brian, as his beneficiary,” Dean said. “He didn’t have much in the way of life insurance. What he did have only covers what he owed on the island, but at least now you get the property free and clear.”
“What?” Brian shook his head, not understanding. “Property?”
“Yes, he’s left everything to you,” Dean explained. “The island and all of its contents, including the cabin, the boathouse, and the boat.”
“He left me the island?” Brian appeared dumbfounded, and he exchanged a confused glance with Harper. “He never told me that.”
“Well, he did,” Dean said. “I’ll need to have you come down to sign some papers.
“Here’s my card,” Dean said as he handed it to Brian. “Give me a call, and we’ll set something up. But right now I’ll let you get back to the funeral. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Brian murmured, sounding distracted and dazed.
The funeral home director was wheeling the casket out the back doors so they could load it into the hearse, and Brian turned back to watch Bernie’s departure as Dean walked away.
“We should get going if we want to be in the procession,” Harper said.
Brian nodded and shoved the lawyer’s business card in his back pocket.