Page 140 of The Dearly Departed

"Oh, for crying out loud," Shawn murmured with resignation, closing the distance between us. "Let me do it."

I turned from his grasp and shook my head. "You don't have to do anything."

"Shut your mouth and let me do it before you poke your fucking eye out."

I sighed, brushing my stubborn pride to the side, and relented with a nod.

We moved from the powder room to the kitchen table, where Shawn laid out the paper towels, antiseptic, needle and thread, and a first aid kit. He had me sit down in front of him and pulled a chair as close as possible, between my spread knees, and set out to stitch my face up with a lot more care and precision than I had offered myself.

And I realized Gerald was right.

Shawn was an excellent candidate to handle the nursing side of the business. He was a caregiver; he was gentle. And Gerald had known that without me saying anything, which only meant …

He's been watching them.

But how?

Without moving my head, I glanced around the kitchen, wondering for the first time if he had the place bugged or if he'd simply done his research.

And for how long?

"We've been through a lot of shit, Bram," Shawn finally said, breaking the silence between us as he carefully stitched up my face. "I've known you since I was five years old. Five. And I've always trusted you. No matter what, I've always trusted you. I've never questioned you, never … second-guessed one of your fucked-up plans."

"See, that was your first mistake," I jabbed, a feeble attempt at a teasing joke.

"Yeah, but you know what?” His blue eyes met mine, and I saw in them a deep sincerity that crushed hard against my soul. “You've never steered me wrong yet. As long as I've been with you, as long as I've listened to you, I've always been safe. Maybe a little fucked up, maybe a little lost, but I've been okay, and considering the shit we've been through, I can settle for okay. Okay is a lot better than the alternative."

I blinked slowly, letting his words sink in, before asking, "What's your point?"

"My point is," he went on, creating another stitch and working his way down my cheek, "if you had come to me when this shit started, I might not have understood immediately, but I would've tried. I would've listened."

"No, Shawn," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "You would've listened to what I had to say, and you would've driven my ass to the fucking cops. That's what you would've done. And then that son of a bitch would've gotten his hands on you and Ike, and I wouldn't have been able to do a fucking thing about it from prison. He would’ve killed both of you—or worse—and I would’ve had to live with that guilt for the rest of my miserable life."

"So, that's really what this was all about? Keeping us protected?"

"It wasn't just you," I admitted. "It was the business. It was Leonard. I didn't want you guys finding out that he …" I sucked in a deep breath and lifted my eyes toward the ceiling. "I didn't want you guys finding out that he'd been working with Gerald for over a fucking decade before he pulled me in too."

"So, that's where the money was coming from," Shawn guessed. "Gerald was paying Leonard."

"Yes," I answered easily.

"And that's why we were doing all those funerals for criminals, free of charge."

"Yes."

He finished the stitches, thinking loudly as he worked. I didn't say a word, didn't want to interrupt his train of thought as he put together the puzzle himself. But then, when he was done, he sat back in his chair and studied me for a second, his eyes lingering on the wound paving the way through my skin.

"This all started the night Leonard disappeared," he stated as a fact. "It was Halloween. He never came home."

I confirmed with a nod.

"So … what? Gerald came here and told you he killed Leonard—"

"No," I said, stopping him before he could speak any more. "Gerald came here and invited me to his birthday party. He said he had information on Leonard's whereabouts that I'd be interested to know."

His eyes narrowed suspiciously, and there was that betrayal again—the unthinkable hurt—but he didn't bother injecting his two cents into the conversation. Instead, he bit his tongue and gestured for me to continue.

And so, I did.