Page 73 of The Dearly Departed

"Well, I can take a hint. If I'm not wanted here, I guess I'll leave," he said with a shrug and a sigh. "Wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."

It seemed too easy to get rid of him that quickly, and as he turned and headed away, I kept my eyes pinned to his back as he stepped between the tombstones on his way back to the path. And I wondered what the hell the point of this impromptu visit had been because I strongly suspected it had nothing to do with paying his respects.

Then, as we left our deeply missed friend and adopted father to rest between his son and wife, I thought about cyanide, murder, and the blood only I could see staining my skin. I thought about the secrets that kept me awake at night, the visions that left me staring into nothingness when I should've been doing anything else.

And I realized that …

That had been the point of Gerald's appearance.

To make sure I remembered … as if I could ever forget.

***

All things considered though, Leonard's farewell had been beautiful.

Perfect even. If I did say so myself.

And not even an appearance from Gerald Crowley could ruin it.

Hundreds of people attended the wake, and there wasn’t enough room in the church to accommodate everyone who wanted to attend the funeral Mass for the man who'd served his community for decades.

From the cemetery, we led the way back to The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home, where we invited the community to join us for a lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches—a nod nobody but us understood, but they seemed to enjoy it immensely.

And I wished I could enjoy it myself. I wished I could stop the questions from assaulting my weary mind. But once the funeral home emptied out and we were left with the aftermath of a life without Leonard Llewellyn, there seemed to be nothing more for me to do than ask all those things I longed to have answers for.

What friend did he meet up with on Halloween? I thought, collecting the garbage from the viewing rooms. Where did he go?

Why didn’t he come back here afterward?

Why didn’t I know about his connection to Gerald Crowley?

Had they always known each other, or did that connection happen after we came here?

The questions were going to eat away at me. They’d be relentless until my brain was whittled down to nothing but an obsessive drive to dig deeper to unearth the answers I needed to settle my soul.

And so, I knew what I had to do. I knew where I had to go.

After everyone left, after I smoked three cigarettes on the porch, after I grabbed my mask from beneath my mattress and got into the hearse well past ten o'clock at night …

I headed back to Hollow Cove.

And something told me Gerald Crowley would be expecting me.

***

"Sir."

With my mask securely in place, I stalled for only a moment at the sound of the title as I brushed past Dean and through the grand doorway at Seint Manor. It was my second time here in the span of a week, which meant I'd be seeing my father with more frequency than at any other point in my life.

But unlike the night of the party, the mansion was quiet, the foyer vast and empty, and somehow, the unnerving hush left me more shaken than I had been the other night.

"How did you know I was coming?" I asked, swinging my gaze across the grandiose foyer to find we were the only people here.

"Security cameras, sir,” he replied.

Oh. I supposed it made sense for a house of this caliber to have at least a few points of surveillance. Hell, most places these days were recorded in some way. It was only recently that Shawn had managed to talk Leonard into installing one of those video recording doorbells, and just like that, the ache of losing him was back with a violent vengeance.

For something else to think about, I scowled in Dean’s direction and said, “You don’t have to call me that.”