Page 91 of Finding Noah

But he cared for his kid, I reminded myself.

In whatever capacity, he'd cared for that boy in the house. He'd begged Seth not to hurt him … and I guessed Seth had listened.

Seth had taken Tommy's life instead. And although I found the tiniest semblance of relief in knowing that, he'd done so in front of Tommy’s son. And what had happened to him? If he'd been left alive all those years ago, where had he gone? Who had he turned to?

I scrolled away from Tommy's frozen face to find the blurb written about his life and who he'd left behind, and I began to read aloud.

“Tomas Jefferson Nolan was a beloved son, wonderful friend, helpful neighbor, cherished brother, and loving father,” I said with a snort. “I have a hard time believing he was any of those things, but what the hell do I know? He is survived by his half-brother, Gerald Crowley, and son, Benjamin. He will be deeply missed.”

Benjamin.

The boy. His name was Benjamin.

I stared at the name, imagining his face. Imagining his hands tightening around my neck. He would be, what? Thirty now? Thirty-one, thirty-two? I was only guessing his exact age, of course, but however old he was, he was a man, twenty years older than he'd been that night.

What is he doing now?

Is he still alive?

Gerald Crowley …

My eyes fell on that name, and I wondered if maybe that was where the boy had ended up. With his father's half-brother, his uncle.

“Are you okay?” Meg asked, a hint of caution in her tone.

“Yeah,” I said, nodding slowly as I scrolled further down. “I think so.”

The obituary had been posted by The Llewellyn Family Funeral Home in Marblehead, Massachusetts. They would have information about the family. They would know who'd held the funeral, maybe even who'd attended … assuming there'd been one.

I licked my lips, my mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

Marblehead … how far is that from here?

“Noah?”

“Yeah?” I answered, barely noticing that Meg had scooted closer as I typed River Canyon, CT, to Marblehead, MA.

“Tell me what you're thinking.” She cupped my cheek in her palm, lowering her gaze to try and catch mine. “What's going on in your head?”

“I think …” A little over two hours. That was the distance from here to there. “I think I have to go up to Marblehead.”

Her hand fell from my face as she reared back. “What?”

“This funeral home,” I said, switching back to that tab and pointing at the logo, “is in Marblehead. They gotta have more info, right? They have to know something on how I could find this guy.”

“Um … or you could just—I don't know—search social media?” she suggested, taken aback and flabbergasted. “You don't need to go on a freakin' road trip to find him, Noah. Why don't you … I mean, why don't you call them? The funeral home. Give them a call tomorrow or something.”

I shook my head. “I mean, yeah, I could, but if I'm in the area, maybe I could get a few things done at once, right?” I looked up to search her eyes. “I could do some real detective work.”

Her jaw fell open, her eyes wide, her head shaking back and forth. “You're serious,” she finally said after a moment. “You really want to go up to Massachusetts and go on a wild goose chase to find someone who tried to kill you twenty years ago?”

When she put it that way, it sounded insane.

But she hadn't been there. She didn't know.

“He was a scared kid, Meghan,” I said, my tone even. “So was I.”

“But he was one of the bad guys!”