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“You’re barking up the wrong tree then,” Frankie said with a sigh.

They filed out of the conference room and back across the hall to the service. The room had thinned out. Sam took a coffee he didn’t want and stood near the back, and that was when he noticed Henry.

He was by the door, still in his overcoat, also holding a cup of coffee, and staying separate from all the other mourners. He wasn’t even pretending that he wanted to be here.

Rick, at least, had done the expected thing. He’d worked the room like it was a fundraiser, shaken twenty hands, said the word tragedy four times, and left after twelve minutes.

Henry was still standing there.

Then Piper brought out the second tray of pastries, and there was a small shuffle of people moving toward the table, and when Sam looked again, the door was swinging shut, and Henry was gone.

Sam thought about a man whose signature was on contracts for furniture that had never arrived. He’d sent Henry a message about needing to talk, but the other man had been studiously ignoring him. Even Henry’s admin wasn’t returning Sam’s emails, which was strange.

“Hi.”

Alli had come in without him seeing it, which indicated how distracted he was. She’d changed into something dark and simple, and she’d taken her hair down. Sam shouldn’t be noticing how good she looked.

“You did a great job,” he said. “The room. You did this.”

“Jenny did half. I can’t take all the credit, but I am happy about how it turned out.”

“The book club is here.”

“I know. I called them.”

Of course she had.

He walked her to the windows, away from the last of the crowd, and told her about his conversation with his siblings.

“We’re looking for a person or a grave,” he finished. “But we’re going to look until we find out the truth. I’m going to talk to my dad, as well.”

She nodded and briefly placed her hand on his arm. Her touch was warm and comforting, and he wished she hadn’t pulled away so quickly.

Then he wished that he hadn’t noticed her touch at all.

“What time do we leave in the morning?” she asked.

“Nine forty.”

“I’ll be ready,” she said. “Maybe there will be some answers in Boston.”

Sam could only hope that was the case.

Chapter

Fourteen

The Fairmont sat on one side of Copley Square, all gold ceilings and marble and a doorman who called her ma’am in a way that made her feel underdressed in clothes she’d thought were nice that morning. Sam, or maybe the travel department of Human Resources, had booked two rooms on the same floor, side by side. With a connecting door.

Two rooms. Of course two rooms. He’s your boss.

They’d flown in a little after noon, and the funeral wasn’t until eleven the next morning, which left a whole crisp, but sunny, Boston afternoon with nothing scheduled in it. Alli had expected Sam to fill it with work. She’d have bet money he’d be back on his laptop before their bags were unpacked, running the audit long distance, being the CEO in a different zip code.

Instead, he knocked on the connecting side of her door as she was placing a few items of clothing in the closet, hoping the wrinkles would hang out.

“Have you ever been to Boston?”

“Once. For a journalism conference. I saw a hotel ballroom and the inside of a cab.”