Mike Nashton's funeral was held the following Saturday at the church he had belonged to since he was a child. The entire congregation was in attendance along with all of his legal colleagues, friends, acquaintances, and neighbors from Englewood, Bridgeport, and Hyde Park. Even some of his high school friends from De LaSalle were there. Voight had sent out the notification of Mike's death.
It sounds so hackneyed to say, but there wasn't a dry eye in the house as the choir belted out the powerful and stirring strains of The Battle Hymn of the Republic, one of Mike's favorite hymns. At one point Elena looked behind her at Voight, who in turn smiled at her and gave her a wink. Despite her overpowering grief she smiled back at him. That brief exchange made her feel better, even if just for a moment.
Mike was eulogized as a hero, a warrior, a Man among men who had refused to become another statistic in his community who worked hard to make something of his life and gave back to those less fortunate.
Elena sat in the front pew with her friends from her ensemble while Voight and his team from the Intelligence Unit sat directly behind them. Voight watched Elena, seldom taking his eyes off of her. He observed that she was stoic and dry eyed. Sobs could be heard throughout the sanctuary, but Elena sat ramrod straight, staring ahead, never breaking or losing her composure. Voight couldn't help thinking he would rather she showed some emotion. She had cried often since her uncle's murder, but that day she went through the motions as robotic and mechanical as an automaton. It was as if she were on autopilot.
After the funeral procession to the cemetery and burial, everyone returned to the church for the repast. Elena sat quietly at a table with her friends but refused to eat anything. At one point she caught Voight's eye and motioned him to meet her outside in the hallway. He nodded and excused himself from the table and followed Elena through the door,
"You okay, Kitten?" he asked as they stood alone in the hallway. He gently put his hand on her cheek.
"I want to go home. Now," she said looking him directly in the eye, a look that made it clear there was no room for discussion.
"Of course," he said. "Whatever you want. We'll leave right now. Just let me tell the limousine driver from the funeral home and the team so that they'll know what's going on."
Inside the limousine Elena sat staring out the window, saying nothing. Voight sat next to her trying to think of something to say, realizing there was nothing he could say to ease her pain. At one point he reached over and took her hand and held it in his for the rest of the ride. She didn't seem to notice.
When they got to his house — where Elena was now living — she started to go upstairs to her room to be alone. Voight stopped her.
"Kitten, stay downstairs with me for a while," he said softly. "I don't want you up in that room. Not yet anyway. You've been spending too much time in there alone."
To his surprise she didn't protest but shrugged her shoulders and went into the living room and sat down on the couch. He sat next to her, and for several minutes neither one of them spoke. Then he had a thought as he looked over at the baby grand piano sitting by the window."
"You know something? I have yet to hear you play," he said motioning to the piano. "It's been here for almost a week, and you haven't played a single note on it. Everyone's been telling me how gifted you are, so now I'd like to hear for myself."
She looked up at him, expressionless.
"I just haven't been in the mood," she said.
"Look, I paid seven hundred and fifty bucks to move that piano here. I think the least you can do is get in the mood and entertain me with one song for all my trouble . . . and money." He winked at her.
She sighed. "Okay. I guess so." She stood up, walked over to the piano, and sat down on the bench.
She stared at the keys for a couple of minutes.
"Anything wrong!" he asked.
"No, I'm just trying to think of something to play for you. Okay. I thought of a song,"
Voight smiled broadly. "Good! Let's hear it."
She gave him a sidelong glance. "I'm going to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star," she said matter-of-factly.
"Uh, okay, if that's your choice." He thought she was going to play something far more advanced like Mozart or Beethoven, but whatever.
She then began playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star slowly with one finger.
Voight raised an eyebrow obviously puzzled and disappointed that she wasn't quite the classical pianist he had been led to believe. But he listened politely with a forced smile on his face.
When she finished the first round she immediately played the tune again, except this time she used both hands, and the second round was a bit more advanced than the first. Then she played another round and then another and then another. By the time she finished she was playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as a piano concerto while her fingers flew effortlessly over the keys. She ended with a magnificent flourish.
Voight was stunned. He had never heard that children's song played that way. He doubted if anyone had. He stood up and walked over to where she sat, clapping his hands vigorously.
"Kitten, that was amazing! You do have an incredible talent. My God, you are gifted!"
He sat down next to her on the bench and put his arm around her.
"You also like to mess with people, don't you?"
She looked up at him. "What do you mean?"
"You little devil," he laughed, " you know exactly what I mean. You started playing the song with one hand like a 3-year old just learning how to play the piano, and you ended up playing it like Arthur Rubenstein. You really had me going there for a minute."
She smiled mischievously up at him.
She was starting to come back slowly but surely, he thought, as he wrapped his arms around her small, delicate frame and held her tight.
He had let Mike down, and that was a guilt he would carry with him for the rest of his life. Mike had come to him for help and gotten killed as a result. Voight was going to make it up to him by taking care of his niece, the person in Mike's life who had meant everything to him.
Voight rested his head on top of Elena's as he held her and slowly rocked her back and forth. Yes, he thought, he owed his friend that much.
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