Page 102 of Buried Beneath Sin

“I learned from the best.”

39

THATCHER

Sagan returns with Trevor in the back of the Bright Starr van three and half hours later.

I stand outside the open stall of the garage in the back of the funeral home, waiting for him impatiently as he backs in. Overhead, the clouds have gathered and a cold breeze has picked up. I need to check the weather, snow could be coming our way soon. Given that it's the first week of March now, I'm not surprised we might get a last minute snowfall, but are we prepared? Is there salt for the parking lot? Shovels? It's something I'll have to look into. While Beatrix ran this place all by herself and did an excellent job of keeping this place afloat, things slipped through the cracks. Supplies for the business were low, most of the tools in the decrepit shed either didn't work or were too dull or rusty to be of any help, and the maintenance had gone to shit. I get it, money is clearly tight. She literally did her best to keep Bright Starr from going into the red each month. Unfortunately, that didn't leave enough money to hire another hand to help her do some of the extra work around here.

She has us now though, and we'll make sure everything is taken care of.

As Sagan climbs out of the driver's seat, I push the gurney over and open the back of the vehicle.

“About damn time. What took you so long?” I demand.

“I had to deal with the police on the scene who were upset it wasn't Beatrix there to pick up the body. It ended up being a fucking clusterfuck.” Sagan grimaces. He sighs as he runs his fingers through his dark bangs. The motion shoves them out of his face only for them to fall right back a second later. “There were so many fucking questions, and they wanted to tell me their life stories. It was torture.”

My annoyance seeps away as I realize what Sagan must have gone through. In its place, amusement trickles in. Trying to hide my smile, I reach in, and together we pull the body bag out and place it on the rolling table.

“This is small-town life, Sagan, and you're new to them. I bet everything you told them has spread like wildfire to the rest of the people of Chasm.” I choke down my grin as Sagan shoots me a dark glare.

“They just wouldn'tshut the fuck up.”

My laughter earns me an even darker glare. If there's anyone who hates small talk and nosy people, it's Sagan. I'm sure it was like a personal hell trying to get through the interactions while remaining pleasant.

“We'll have to actually make a public appearance downtown eventually. People will gawk, gossip will fly, and then something new will grab the attention of the people of Chasm and we'll be old news,” I assure him.

“Maybe this fake suicide will keep them off us for a little longer,” he grumbles.

“Did I tell you that his father is the pastor of the church here. He wasverydistraught that his son would take his life in this manner. Apparently, it's a grave sin to commit suicide.”

Sagan looks over at me and we exchange a smile.

“What a shame he went out that way,” my brother sneers.

I nod in agreement. “A shame, indeed.”

As Sagan pushes the body toward the interior door of the funeral home, I walk over to pull the metal chord that will close the garage door shut. Just as I reach for it, movement just beyond Bright Starr catches my eye. My hand pauses mid-air as I watch Knox rushing out from the rundown shed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move so fast. It’s like he’s on fire or something. Knox crests over the hill, away from the funeral home and just out of sight.

“What's Knox doing with a shovel? And why is he running?” I ask curiously.

The sound of the gunnery rolling over the cement floor comes to an abrupt halt. I look over my shoulder at my brother who turns to look back at me. Something sharp then both hot and cold shoots through our connection. It's there and gone before I know exactly what my brother is feeling.

“Have you checked on Beatrix recently?” he asks, his voice unnaturally terse.

I eye his expression warily, unsure of the sudden stillness I’m feeling from him. With a slow shake of my head I answer, “The pastor wanted to speak with her, but I couldn't find her, and then I got busy?—”

Before I can finish my sentence, Sagan pushes the table away from him and runs toward me.

“Sagan, what?—“

He doesn’t stop when he reaches me. Instead, my brother bolts outside and sprints away—up the hill in the direction that Knox had taken. Unease causes my chest to constrict. I almost take off after him, but I can't leave our newest guest out like this. I glare at the black body bag that hides the decomposing remnants of Beatrix's tormentor. With a huff, I hurry over tothe table and push him into Bright Starr and to the preparation room.

Anemptypreparation room. I frown. This is usually where Beatrix is during the day, but she hasn’t been in here for hours.

“Beatrix?” I call out as I step out into the hallway.

There’s no response.

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