Miranda sat in the back of an unmarked FBI surveillance van two blocks from St. Matthew's Cathedral, watching her own funeral unfold on a small monitor. The irony wasn't lost on her – if this elaborate charade wasn't crucial to their plan, she might have found it darkly fascinating.
Through the tinted windows, she could glimpse the Gothic spires of the cathedral rising against the sky. Part of her ached to be inside, not out of some morbid curiosity to witness people mourning her supposed death, but to support her sisters. Even on the grainy surveillance feed, Collins's face was unnaturally pale in her black dress, and Noelle clutched her funeral flowers with white-knuckled intensity.
Knowing the truth didn't make this performance any easier on them.
"Visual confirmation on all targets," Agent Blake announced from the front, adjusting equipment dials. "Agents are tracking March Holden. He's approaching the cathedral now. Nolan is positioned in the front pew with your sisters."
