Page 44 of The Dearly Departed

House? He has a house?

“And if I say no?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Then you’ll have to live the rest of your little life without ever knowing what I have.”

“What does that—"

He held up a hand, and something on his ring finger glinted in the lowering sun. I narrowed my eyes at the diamond-encrusted gold wedding band sitting comfortably there as another dozen questions came to mind.

When did he get married? How long ago?

There were many years between when I’d last seen him and now. He’d been quiet, absent, and, as it would seem, incredibly busy.

What else has he been up to?

“No, no, my boy. We are not talking here,” he said, shutting me down with calm confidence.

“And why the hell do you think you have that type of power over me?”

He smirked, that air of confidence now bold and bubbling to the surface. “Because, son, in this very moment … I very much do.”

The first day of November had brought with it an eerie chill. A gust of wind blew through the porch, casting the neat pile of dead leaves and smoked cigarettes to scatter across the floorboards again in a chaotic, jumbled dance around my feet. Gerald walked with the wind, moving through the low cloud of debris to close the distance between us as he reached into his coat pocket.

I tensed and kept my hand on my knife, assuming he was arming himself, and he chuckled.

“Jesus, Abraham,” he gently scolded. “Always so on edge. You have to learn how to loosen up, son. You’re gonna drive yourself to an early grave if you keep that up.”

Then he produced a large white envelope, and as he handed it to me, he said, “It’s a costume party, but you don’t have to go crazy. A mask would be fine. And if you don’t mind, I’d prefer that you come alone. Don’t tell your brother or your girlie little friend where you’re headed.”

Girlie little friend. I scoffed with a roll of my eyes.

Now in his thirties, Shawn was far from girlie, nor was he my friend. He was, for all intents and purposes, my brother, just as much as Isaac.

But Gerald was never going to see it that way. If he wasn’t blood-related or married in, he was never going to be family.

It left me uncomfortable to not tell Shawn or Ike about this encounter. But if he had information about Leonard, I didn’t want to risk not finding out.

So, I tucked the envelope inside my jacket and asked, “And if they question where I’m going?”

Gerald snorted. “I don’t fuckin’ know. You’re not stupid. Make something up.”

Then he left without another word, walking down the steps with his hands in his pockets and strolling along the sidewalk like he didn’t have a care in the world.

And when I opened the invitation, I found the provided address wasn’t far from here, in Hollow Cove—a historic, secluded enclave, situated on the bluff overlooking Salem Sound. The type of fancy place where houses had names and each one was built on its own private street, named after the family who had built it.

I hadn’t been there myself, but I knew homes in that area were valued in the millions. To live there, one would need to have an exorbitant amount of money. And that was when I realized that Gerald Crowley—the man who had played a part in my birth with my junkie, homeless mother—truly had been busy in the years since I’d last seen him.

He’d gotten lucky. Maybe even luckier than me.

And I had to find out how.

But more importantly, I had to find Leonard, and something told me Gerald Crowley knew exactly where he was.

CHAPTER SEVEN

A few years ago, the old truck Leonard had bought for us had died a lackluster death in the parking lot.

Ike and Shawn promptly bought their own cars, taking the opportunity to own vehicles they preferred to drive.