Free Eternal by C. C. Hunter

ace.
    â€œTrue,” Burnett said. “However, that would cause less of a scandal than, say, a graveyard accepting payoffs from a funeral home to entomb empty caskets. The whole mystery of where the bodies have gone would not only make local news, but could go national. I can almost read the headlines: Families of the deceased desperate to find the remains of their dearly departed .” He let his gaze shift around the graveyard. “How many empty caskets have you accepted from Craig Anthony and his stepfather?”
    The were’s posture lost some confidence, as did the were standing at his side. Burnett obviously had the upper hand.
    Though, the lead were didn’t want to admit it right off. “Seeing you’re vampire, you should know this practice is overlooked by FRU regulations.”
    Burnett crossed his arms over his wide chest. “Not when the fresh turns were being turned into slaves.”
    â€œWe were not aware of that man’s actions. Our contract was with his stepfather.”
    â€œLet’s hope that’s the way this shakes out once our investigation is complete. Yet, this brings me back to the reason I’m here,” Burnett said, relaxing his posture, as if letting the were know compromise wasn’t off the table. “I have the body of someone for whom you have the empty casket. I simply want to put the deceased to rest in his proper grave.”
    The were must not have been big on compromising. “That’s not protocol. If we start that, we’ll be burying and exhuming graves constantly. Besides, if the fresh turn died, his family will never know. They already think he’s in the box. What they don’t know can’t hurt them. They’re just humans.”
    Just humans! “I will know,” Della said, her tone one shade lighter than black, and her eyes two shades brighter.
    The were actually took a step back. “Fine. Dig up whoever you want. I’ll even supply you with a backhoe. If the boss wants to murder someone over this, I’ll tell him to go to the FRU.”
    *   *   *
    Thirty minutes later, the grave dug, Della sat on green winter grass, running her hands over the manicured blades and watching the backhoe pull Chan’s casket from the ground. Before the two security guards left, the other agents had shown up. The zipped tarp they brought with them now waited to the right of the gravestone carrying Chan’s full name.
    She knew Chan’s body lay inside that plastic. Closing her eyes, she tried to decide if she wanted to see him. Should she hold on to the last memory she had of his face? The last time she’d seen him was when she was being Reborn and had fallen into the coma. They’d been in the clouds and he’d been happy, smiling his silly grin and teasing her about something. But about what?
    She searched her mind, and the memory that had seemed so far away filled her head.
    He’d been teasing her about her inability to bowl and one particularly memorable accident. She’d shifted her hand back to throw the ball, and it flew off her fingers, flying behind her in the opposite direction of the bowling lane. All five people waiting their turn had gone down trying to avoid being hit. Chan had insisted they count it as a strike because no one had been left standing.
    A tear slipped out of her closed lids, remembering that moment in the clouds and how his smile had seemed so much like the old Chan. She wiped a few wayward tears away. Yup, that was how she wanted to remember him—not dead in a tarp.
    She heard someone say something in a low voice, as if to purposely keep it from her. She opened her eyes. The agents, Burnett included, stood at the side of the grave, looking down at the opened casket as if something was inside.
    Della’s breath caught. Had someone taken up residence in Chan’s casket?
    â€œWhat is it?” She shot up. If it was a corpse, they’d