CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
FROM DESPERATION
Meg sat in the passenger seat as Soldier pulled into the parking lot of The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home.
The towering Victorian looked out of place in the middle of a street lined with warehouses and big-box stores.
It was proof that, at one point, the past had existed here, and Meg found that chillingly ironic when it was the buried past that'd brought them here in the first place.
She was grateful for Soldier's presence as they climbed out of his SUV.
Although she would've come on her own if she had to, she knew she would've done so terrified.
But with Soldier there—standing at a menacing six foot seven and looking every bit the part of the hardened, mean-spirited ex-prisoner she knew he wasn't—she felt safe.
She understood why Noah had been drawn to him once upon a time, when he forced himself into Soldier's life until the man had no choice but to fall in love with his mother and protect them from the bogeyman they knew and feared.
“He came here,” Soldier thought aloud, casting his eyes upward toward the widow's walk at the top of the house.
Meg nodded as she came to stand beside him on the asphalt. “They held the funeral for Tomas Nolan twenty years ago.”
“Right, you mentioned that,” he grumbled. “You said this was the last place he came before driving home?”
“That I know of,” she said. “Well, except the restaurant he went to with Charlie and Stormy.”
Soldier uttered a quiet, contemplative sound. “Something tells me this is more of a critical piece of the puzzle than dinner.”
“Yeah,” Meg said, acknowledging the roiling in her stomach that was not at all related to her pregnancy. “Me too.”
Days earlier, Meg had spoken to the police.
She knew they'd been here, that they'd questioned the directors, but they had said it was a dead end and to let it go, to think harder, deeper, for any other possible leads.
But as she and Soldier climbed the steps and walked the wraparound porch until they reached the grand front entrance, she couldn't ignore the whispering in her head that said she was exactly where she was supposed to be.
And it made her want to run far, far away.
Soldier opened the door, and together, they entered the building, stepping into a pristine foyer. The scent of flowers was heavy, and that queasiness she had been feeling morphed into something she couldn’t blame on hormones.
“Oh God,” she groaned, holding a hand over her mouth.
“You okay?” Soldier asked in a low voice, though his voice seemed to boom throughout the quiet building.
Forcing deep breaths in and out of her lungs, Meg waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, I think … I think I'm okay. Just … the flowers are making me—”
“Hi there.”
A tall man in a black turtleneck and matching trousers appeared from a hallway to the side of a long, winding staircase. He wore a friendly smile that didn't immediately make Meg want to think he was capable of homicide, but that didn't mean he wasn't.
“Hey, man. How are you?” Soldier replied casually, outstretching a hand toward him.
“All right. Can't complain,” the man responded as he accepted the gesture, friendly enough. “What can I do for you folks?”
Swallowing against the wave of nausea, Meg looked up at the man.
“We're looking for a man who was here last weekend,” she said, stepping into the conversation without a hint of well meaning in her tone.
She willed her hands to be steady as she pulled a picture of Noah from her pocket and passed it to the man. “Noah Mason.”
There wasn't a single slip of the friendly mask this man wore as he eagerly took the picture and studied it for a moment. He responded with a nod before handing it back.
“Yes, I remember. The police were already here a couple of days ago.” A look of concern tipped his eyebrows. “Are you saying he hasn't been found yet?”
“He hasn't,” Soldier replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “We were hoping, if there was anything you could tell us about his visit, maybe we could—”
“Sir, I'm sorry, but everything I know, I already told the police,” the man gently interjected, casting an apologetic expression toward both Soldier and Meg.
“We aren't the police,” Meg replied.
The man lifted his chin at that, his eyes curious. “Are you members of Officer Mason's family then?”
Meg heard as Soldier swallowed. He was growing more concerned; the idea of revealing their identities didn't feel right to him. But still, he nodded.
“Yes,” he said, but left it at that, not uncovering who exactly they were to Noah. As if the secrecy mattered at this point.
The man nodded solemnly. “My name is Shawn.
I'm one of the directors here,” he said, introducing himself finally.
“I'm sorry for what your family is going through, truly, but …” He shrugged with helplessness Meg didn't believe was fake.
“I don't have much to offer you. I wish I did. He came here and asked about a man we’d held a service for twenty years ago.
There was nothing to give him, unfortunately, as we don't keep records that far back.”
“Did you remember the guy he was asking about?” Soldier asked.
Shawn shook his head. “No, I'm afraid not.”
Soldier's gaze moved around the foyer, scanning the pictures on the walls until he settled on one. Meg followed his interest until she saw what he was looking at.
“What about the other directors?” she asked, staring at the photo of the three men in black. “There are two others?”
She cast her attention back to Shawn in time to see him nod.
“Yes, my brothers, Abraham and Isaac. Noah … Officer Mason, he never met Isaac, but he did speak to Abraham.”
“Is Abraham here?” Soldier asked.
Shawn nodded. “He's working in the basement right now, but I can get him for you, if you don't mind waiting for a moment.”
“Please,” Meg replied. “We'd appreciate it.”
With a curt nod, Shawn said, “Of course, ma'am. Just give me a minute. Please”—he swept a hand toward a striped velvet sofa—”take a seat.”
Shawn took his leave, briskly heading down the long hallway from which he'd come, and Soldier turned around to survey the foyer more extensively as Meg did just as Shawn had said.
She took a seat.
“I think he knows something,” Meg whispered, the nausea back with a brutal vengeance. “I don't know why, but I just have a feeling.”
“You feel that way because he's connected,” Soldier replied in a voice just as quiet as hers. “Don't let it cloud your judgment.”
“You're saying that because he's nice,” she protested harshly. “Don't let that cloud your judgment.”
Soldier sighed and took a seat beside her. “Touché,” he muttered with a nod. “I'm just saying, you don't want to miss something crucial because you're hung up on a feeling.”
Meg fell quiet for a moment as she considered that. It was exactly what had gotten Noah into the mess he'd found himself in, wasn't it? He'd gotten a feeling about this place, was insistent on coming instead of giving them a call, and look what had happened to him.
He was missing.
Gone, for all she knew.
Did that validate his feeling, or am I missing something else? she thought as she waited for Shawn's return.
She didn't have to wait for long as the man in the turtleneck came into view, followed by another. This one was taller, brawnier. While Shawn wasn't an unattractive man by any means, this one—Abraham, she presumed—was otherworldly, nearly vampiric in his handsome beauty.
It was nothing but a quick observation as she and Soldier stood from the couch. There were more important things to focus on than the striking appearance of this approaching man.
“Folks, this is Abraham, my brother and business partner,” Shawn said, quick to make the introductions. “Bram, these people are members of Noah Mason's family.”
Abraham was casually peeling off a pair of black gloves as he nodded in lieu of a greeting. “You asked to speak with me.”
Soldier nodded, unfazed by his presence, but Meg wasn't. She looked up toward his eyes and the jagged scar stretching the length of his face. This man wasn't only attractive, but his aura, his demeanor, his way of carrying himself screamed of danger.
“Yes,” Soldier said. “Can you tell us anything about the conversation you had with Noah? Anything that might help us find him?”
Abraham tucked the gloves into the breast pocket of his black vest. “Are you insinuating that I might know where he is?”
Soldier cocked his head to study the man for a moment. “And are you right now insinuating that you do?” His voice was hardened, now on the defense.
Meg wondered if he was getting the same uncomfortable feeling now that she was.
Shawn was quick to pinch his brow and release an exhausted sigh. “Bram, please. Don't do this right now. This young guy is missing, and his family is just trying to find him. Nobody is accusing you of anything.”
Abraham's jaw shifted irritably, but he resigned with a short nod. “My conversation with him was brief. We smoked together on the porch, he asked me a couple of questions, and then I brought him in here to talk to Shawn. He left after that. That's about all there is to tell.”
“And he never … came back?” Meg asked, grasping at straws because, dammit, this man had to know something. “To ask you more questions?”
Abraham turned to her then, acknowledging her for what seemed to be the first time. “Back here?” He chuckled as if she'd said something funny. “No.”
Meg's brow furrowed angrily. “Do you find this situation amusing?”