The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn of the cemetery. Miranda stood behind a massive oak tree, approximately fifty yards from the grave site, watching through binoculars as mourners gathered around her empty casket. The priest's solemn voice carried on the gentle breeze, delivering final words for a woman who wasn't actually dead.
"All units in position. Target is with the family group. We have eyes on you," Agent Blake murmured into his earpiece from his post near the cemetery gates.
Miranda adjusted the recording device concealed within her black coat and inhaled deeply. This was the culmination of everything—days of meticulous planning, staging her own death, enduring the sight of her sisters' grief. If this worked, they would finally have justice for their parents. If it failed... she couldn't afford to think about that possibility.
