Page 19 of Tempting Devil

Why would James be anxious to speak to this funeral director, assuming he was the owner of that untraceable number?

“Is there a picture of this Brian McGuire?”

“Sure.” Henry clicked a few buttons and a bio page from the funeral home’s website appeared, a photo of a dark-haired man of average build and blue-gray eyes staring back at me. But what caught my attention was the pin on his lapel, a black background with a gold B in elegant script.

A ghost of a memory slammed into me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, placing a hand on the desk to steady myself. I’d seen that pin before. I was sure of it.

“You okay?” Henry asked, his gaze narrowed in concern. “Do you recognize him?”

“I…” I shook my head, blinking repeatedly. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it appears James is planning on paying McGuire a visit. I was able to access the funeral home’s servers and found an email from McGuire to one of his employees instructing her to clear his schedule for tomorrow morning and give the staff the day off due to a VIP client coming in.”

“And you’re certain this couldn’t just be James trying to plan Alton’s memorial?”

Henry arched a skeptical brow at my suggestion. “This is a man who had his chief of staff plan his own mother’s funeral last year. Do you honestly think he’d put in this much effort?”

“I don’t know what to believe right now,” I answered honestly. “But I don’t think we’ll get any answers by staying here.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Chapter Eight

Imogene

The rising sun warmed my skin as Ollie jogged in front of me, wearing the same dopey smile on his face that always reminded me of Samuel.

Which now also reminded me of Gideon.

I couldn’t sleep after Gideon left. Instead, all I could think about was how devastated he looked when I accused him of being Samuel.

Now that I had time to think about everything, something I didn’t do last night, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete asshole for what I’d done.

Who did that? Who accused the man they were falling for of being their dead boyfriend?

Apparently, I did.

It was official.

I was losing my mind.

So what if he had burn marks in the same spot? He looked nothing like Samuel. That should have been all the proof I needed that he wasn’t him. Not to mention, Samuel Tate was dead. Why was it so hard for me to accept that?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of my thoughts as a flicker of hope burned in my chest that it was Gideon. Truthfully, the reason I took Ollie for a walk along the beach this morning was because I secretly hoped I’d run into him like I had so many other times.

And maybe my dog could act as a sort of peace offering, considering how much Gideon adored him.

But he wasn’t out here this morning like he had been in the past.

To further my disappointment, when I checked my phone, the text was from my mother instead of Gideon.

Mom:

Just checking to see how you’re doing this morning, all things considered. If you need some time away, you’re always welcome here.

A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I slid my phone back into my pocket, not ready to respond just yet. Even in texts, she’d know something was wrong. She always did. Instead, I made my way toward The Daily Grind, securing Ollie’s leash to the post by the front door before heading inside.

The barista smiled, already reaching for a medium-sized coffee cup. “Your usual?”

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