Page 100 of The Dearly Departed

"My, um … my wife just had a miscarriage," he admitted in a whisper, glancing in the direction of the stairs.

"Your timing for a heart-to-heart is bizarre, but I'm sorry to hear that."

His gaze remained fixated on Cora and Lara, now singing quietly in their filthy nest beneath the stairs, as he continued, "This was the fourth one we lost in the last three years. We've been having a hard time."

I knew where his train of thought was going before he said it, and I bit back a smile as he finally said, "I think I'll bring them home. They can stay with us until we can figure something else out.”

And then, in that moment, as if by a miracle, Dean—who I had only just started to sort of like after a year of going on these missions together—stopped looking like a villain altogether. Suddenly, he was just a man, who had, like me, fallen under shitty circumstances with little way of getting out.

And he was looking at me like he’d just had the same revelation.

“Gerald cannot know about this,” he warned, the worry clear in his eyes. “Ever. It would be a death sentence for us all. Do you understand that?”

“I understand,” I muttered with a nod. “Your secret is safe with me.”

It was one I’d happily take to the grave, knowing their lives had been spared.

***

Dean and I carried the girls upstairs, making sure their eyes were diverted from the bodies of both their parents. They picked a few things to take from their filthy room, but really, they didn't seem to own much at all, and although I'd never met Dean's wife or seen his home, somehow, I knew they were about to live a life far beyond their wildest dreams.

At the very least, I knew the woman could make a mean pie … allegedly.

After they were done collecting their few belongings, we took them into the backyard while Dean called Jesse the cleaner. Then, knowing we had to work quickly before Jesse arrived, Dean and I devised a plan while Cora and Lara danced around like they hadn’t a care in the world, and although I knew they weren’t without trauma, I was grateful for the funny ways in which the mind protected itself and gave little girls the ability to dance, even after witnessing unthinkable horrors.

"You wait for Jesse and tell Gerald I had an emergency at home," Dean said, watching as they giggled. "I'll be back at his place later, after I get them settled in."

I nodded. "Will do."

“I guess that’s as good of a plan as we’re gonna get for now,” he muttered with a sigh. “I wish I could just take them and run away, but …”

There was more he wasn’t saying, and I wondered if, one day, he ever would. I wondered what else there was to his story, how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place, but I kept those questions to myself.

Instead, I muttered, “Yeah, if only.”

I helped him corral the girls then, and we led them quietly to his car. We got them buckled up and as safe as they could be, given the circumstances, knowing they should’ve been in car seats, but we had none.

He closed the car door behind him, looked around to make sure nobody was within earshot, and then said, "Thanks for not being a heartless bastard."

"Right back at you."

His jaw shifted for a moment, like he was considering something, then extended his hand. I hesitated, eyeing his open palm and wondering what it would mean to accept his gesture of goodwill.

Did it make us friends? And if it did, would that really be so terrible?

Maybe I need a friend, I thought, finally accepting and shaking his hand. And maybe he does too.

Someone to talk to.

Someone to have my back when things inevitably went south.

Someone who understood what it was like to walk through hell and live under the watchful, evil eye of Gerald Crowley.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The colors of dawn had barely begun to paint the sky by the time I pulled the hearse into Seint Manor’s circular driveway and parked beneath the carport. My leg was throbbing, the blood had soaked through my torn pant leg, and the more I thought about it, the more lightheaded I was becoming.

Shawn would've teased me for being woozy, especially after I'd made fun of him over the years for not having the stomach to handle corpse preparation.