She'd wanted to shy away, but couldn't stop herself from going. The funeral was a small affair, attended poorly. It was so fitting for the "guest of honor." The cold, the sleet, the burial attended by the Parish priest and one old acquaintance. Good for him, he got exactly the tribute he deserved. Still, why did she come? She had forced the last breath out of him in one quick upward thrust of the knife, and now she was freezing while he was put to ground. She shook her head at the idiocy of coming here, of watching. She'd gotten away with it, but for how long?