Pulling off a fake funeral on such short notice—and having to steal almost everything needed for it—was no small task.
Especially when they were already short on manpower.
So Veronica immediately went to find Kevin.
Kevin was out wandering around, enjoying his carefree downtime.
After Veronica explained the situation, Kevin listened and instantly got irritated.
"Again? Seriously? Does this ever end?"
Veronica understood why he was annoyed. With no other choice, she switched to sweet talk. She sat on his lap, her hands already moving as she coaxed him into helping.
"I know, I know. But this is a huge deal. We have to help Fiona. Kevin, you don't want me losing my best friend, do you?"
Kevin's weakness was firmly in Veronica's hands.
Sigh… what else could he do?
After a bit of outdoor fun and chaos,
Kevin finally surrendered and agreed to help.
---
3:30 p.m.
Highly efficient as always, Abby arrived at the Gallagher house with two FBI agents and a search warrant.
Lip handled it smoothly, successfully getting Abby and the agents to agree to come back the next morning instead.
---
Around 4:20 p.m.
Debbie and Carl got home from school. After hearing what was going on, they didn't say a word—just dropped their backpacks and headed back out to steal whatever was needed.
The Gallagher family was officially in motion…
Time flew by.
In the blink of an eye, it was already 10:00 p.m.
Almost everything needed for tomorrow's funeral was ready—except for one thing.
A body.
Veronica had already checked the nursing home. Chances were, no conveniently deceased elderly lady was going to die tonight.
Which meant the only option was to get a corpse from the morgue.
Thankfully, that wasn't too difficult. In a hellhole like the South Side, people's moral standards were already rock-bottom.
In fact, the plan to steal a body from the morgue had already been arranged. All they had to do was wait until after midnight and go pick it up.
---
The Gallagher house.
After nonstop work for hours, Fiona, Veronica, and the others were completely wiped out. They collapsed onto the couch, smoking and drinking beer, too exhausted to talk. The room was unusually quiet.
Of course,
Frank had already come back.
He looked at them, moved his mouth, and finally spoke.
"Are you sure this is the only way?"
"If you do this, Ginger's social security checks are never coming back."
"I just want to say—I really hate this plan."
Fiona weakly turned her head toward him.
"Frank, shut up."
"Goddamn it!" Just thinking about that social security money made Frank's heart ache.
"Which asshole reported me? If I ever find out who it was, I'll chop him up and feed him to the dogs!"
Lip spoke up.
"About that—I'm pretty sure the guy who reported you is the same guy who broke both your legs."
"And there's a good chance he's also the reason Ian and I ended up like this."
After a pause, Lip added with pure hatred in his voice,
"Someone out there won't stop until we're completely destroyed."
The words hung in the air.
Since they'd already heard this theory before—and mostly agreed with it—no one looked particularly shocked.
Kevin took a drag from his cigarette and was the first to speak.
"You guys definitely made yourself a seriously dangerous enemy."
"Fxxk!" Fiona cursed angrily.
"What kind of grudge is this? What did we ever do to make that bastard go this far?"
Ian asked Frank,
"Frank, can you think of anyone who'd do this?"
Frank shook his head immediately.
"How the hell would I know? Who could I have pissed off? I get along with everyone!"
Yeah. That was useless.
Ian gave up on Frank and turned to Lip.
"So what do we do? That bastard isn't just going to stop."
Lip exhaled a long stream of smoke.
"To be safe, we need to dig up Ginger's body. In case that asshole somehow knows where she's buried and calls the cops again."
Earlier, Fiona had already gotten the burial location out of Frank. The body was buried in the backyard.
Frank shook his head in disbelief.
"How could that bastard possibly know? It's been twelve years! Nobody knows except you guys!"
"Better safe than sorry," Lip said firmly.
Fiona was on the verge of losing it. She grabbed her hair.
"So now we have to dig up a corpse again? Fxxk—does this ever end?!"
"Fiona, we don't have a choice," Lip said seriously.
She was breaking down, but she knew he was right. Gritting her teeth, she nodded.
"Frank," Lip asked again, "have you done anything else that left evidence—anything that could land you in jail?"
Frank answered instantly.
"No. Absolutely not."
"Frank! Think harder!" Fiona screamed when she saw how fast he answered.
"I cannot go through this again!"
Frank looked at her, stopped joking around, and actually thought about it.
"No. There really isn't anything else. At least, nothing with evidence."
"Good," Lip said coldly.
"If something like this happens again, we're not helping you."
Frank smiled.
"Son, don't act like you're helping me out of love. You're helping yourselves—"
"Shut up! Shut up!" Fiona cut him off, yelling twice.
---
A few minutes later,
Everyone gathered in the backyard.
Lip, Ian, and Frank were there too—even though they couldn't really help.
Frank quickly pointed out the exact spot where Ginger's body was buried.
Fiona grabbed a shovel and started digging.
"Fiona," Kevin spoke up. He had already decided he wasn't getting involved in digging up a corpse.
"Veronica and I need to head home. We can't help with this part. Sorry."
Veronica wanted to help, but she knew how serious this was. She apologized awkwardly.
"Fiona, I'm really sorry. Call us after midnight."
Fiona wasn't stupid. She forced a bitter smile.
"It's okay. You've already done more than enough. Go home. Thank you—seriously."
Kevin and Veronica said a few more words, then headed off.
After they'd walked a little farther away,
Lip muttered unhappily,
"Two assholes."
Fiona heard him while digging. She wanted to defend Kevin and Veronica, but she was too exhausted—physically and mentally. She stayed silent and kept digging.
---
Meanwhile…
In the dead of winter, this late at night, North Wallace Street was already quiet. Hardly anyone was out.
Dexter, wearing a helmet, rode his motorcycle slowly, mapping out his escape route after killing Terry—and figuring out where to ditch the bike.
This wasn't something you could half-ass.
He'd been at it for a while now.
And damn—it was cold.
Luckily, planning a murder was pretty thrilling. It got his blood pumping.
That made the cold a lot easier to tolerate.
At last—
The route was finalized.
Dexter smiled and headed toward the Gallagher house.
He figured that during the day, whoever was investigating the social security fraud had probably already been there.
He wanted to see what the Gallaghers were up to now.
---