Page 6 of The Dearly Departed

Last time we had run away, they had talked me into taking a quick nap on a park bench. A cop had woken us up and ensured we got home safely.

In most cases, we were safer on the streets.

With a quick shake of my head to knock some life back into me, I took in the surrounding area. There was a McDonald’s across the street and a shopping center with a dollar store, a discounted greeting card shop, a liquor store, and a Kmart. On the side of the road we were on, I could see a florist, a couple of gas stations, and a …

“What is that?” I asked, leaning forward to peer at the sign hanging from the awning.

“What?” Shawn asked, following my gaze. “The flower place?”

“No, next to it.”

He squinted his eyes and shrugged. “Looks like a house.”

“It’s not a house,” I said. “There’s a sign on it.”

Ike yawned and lifted his head from off my shoulder. “It says … Ll … Lou … I can’t read that,” he said, shaking his head and slumping against the shelter’s smudgy glass wall. “It’s a funeral home.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, then stood up.

“What?” Shawn asked, scrambling to his feet as Ike groaned and took his time picking up his things.

I was already on the sidewalk, casually making my way toward the towering house to get a closer look at the sign.

The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home, it read in fancy gold lettering against a black background.

It was nice, old … and huge.

Huge meant lots of rooms. Lots of rooms meant plenty of places to hide, less chance of being found and more time to get some sleep before we started walking again.

Standing in front of the dark and dreary building, I tipped my head back to sweep my gaze over its pointed turrets, arched frames, and diamond-shaped windowpanes. It had a spooky feeling to it, like it belonged in an episode of The Munsters or The Addams Family, and although it gave me the chills, I didn’t quite hate it either.

In fact, staring at that house, I was filled with an excitement I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before in my life.

“We are not sleeping in there,” Shawn protested, already catching my drift.

“Yes, we are,” I declared, heading up the pathway to the steps that would lead to the wraparound porch.

“Abraham,” he hissed, following quickly on my heels.

“I’m gonna need you to shut your damn mouth, Shawn,” I warned him, tiptoeing up the creaky steps.

This is a bad idea, I thought, wishing I’d circled around back to find a way in instead of taking the steps. They were too loud beneath my weight, and Shawn nor Isaac were taking much care to be as quiet as I was.

“I am not staying in a fucking funeral home.”

The porch floorboards groaned under my feet, but I made my way around the house quietly enough. Shawn and Isaac followed, though Shawn wouldn’t quit sighing and worrying. But I wouldn’t take his protests to heart. This was the last place anyone would look for us, if they cared to look in the first place, and we were unlikely to come across a better option anytime soon. He could brush aside whatever issues he had and suck it up for a handful of hours for the sake of getting a little bit of sleep.

I rounded the back of the house and tried to open a window.

It was locked.

Shit.

Tried another, only to find that it was also locked.

Standing back, I put my hands on my hips. I didn’t need to try them all to know that the rest of the windows were likely to be locked as well.

There was a back door though, and carefully, I reached out to touch the handle and gave it a little jiggle.