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“Might as well get this over with,” she said as she stared at the building.
Royce noddedin agreement. Maybe then they could get to the other things he was thinking about—once they took care of whoever was out to kill Briar.
A brass plaque with fancy script was posted next to the entry and read, “Ring for Entry.” Royce pressed the shiny button below the plaque. From inside, they heard the clatter of a bell, but a few minutes passed and no one came to greet them.
A heavy gust of wind swirled and one of the doors drifted open a crack and then shut again. Reaching out, Royce tugged on one of the handles, and the door opened easily. Their eyes met, and Royce knew Briar was thinking the same thing—why would the doors be unlocked if clients normally had to wait to be let in?
“Shall we?” he asked. Briar nodded, a grim expression on her face.
Royce pulled the door all the way open so she could slip past him and into the quiet lobby. An ornate reception desk was set off to the side, but no one was waiting there, ready to greet them. A small placard set in the middle of the desk stated, “Please Sign Guest Book.” Maybe there was only someone here during services.
Across from the entrance, there were three visitation rooms. The doors to each of them stood open, making it obvious that no one was inside even though each room was set up for a viewing.
Briar called out a quiet, “Hello?” There was no answer. “What the hell?”
They stood there for a minute listening for… anything. It was too quiet, even for a place that took care of the deceased. The building almost seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.
Finally, Royce said quietly, “If I remember correctly, the office is down around the corner. Let’s go and see if Ayren’s there.”
He had no interest in running the director down in the mortuary, but maybe the funeral director had needed to check on something. Maybe Royce should listen to his gut, which was screaming that something wasn’t right. Maybe they needed to get the hell out of there—or call reinforcements.
Briar wrinkled her nose. “I should have called him again. Maybe he’s with another client.” She glanced into the viewing rooms again and then down the empty corridor.
“There weren’t any other cars in the lot,” Royce pointed out, still itching to leave the building.
Briar didn’t move toward the exit or down the hallway. “Truth. That was his car we parked next to?”
“I don’t know for certain. I don’t keep track of what the funeral director drives.”
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Briar murmured as she shot him a dirty look.
“Possible trap?” Something was definitely off. Even if Ayren had been in the mortuary, he should have come to greet them by now.
“If not a trap, then something else is wrong.” She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe he’s had a medical emergency.”
“What do you want to do?” he asked. Royce wanted to take the lead but reminded himself, again, that Briar was an experienced ATF agent and she was perfectly able to make her own plan.
Briar hesitated before taking a deep breath and replying, “Let’s go see if he’s in his office, act as normal as possible.” She shifted her bag around so she would have better access to her holster and started to move down the hallway.
Emotion swelled in Royce’s chest. Briar was all business—calm, collected, and ready to take on the unknown. It was one of the hottest things Royce had ever experienced. He wasn’t in trouble… he was way beyond that. Royce’s heart knew what it wanted, and his brain was just going to have to fall in line.
They were almost silent. If there was someone there who wasn’t supposed to be, hopefully they didn’t know that Royce and Briar were inside the building. And if the mortician was out back having a smoke break, and they were overreacting, who cared? Better safe than sorry.
“If I remember right,” Royce spoke a bit louder in case someone was listening, “the director’s office is down that way.”
The fact that no one had responded to the bell had Royce keeping his hand where he could easily grab his Sig. They moved in tandem down the corridor, slowing at the point where it turned to the left and they could see that Ayren’s office door was slightly ajar. And what Royce thought was a man’s shod foot, pointing upward.
They pulled out their weapons.
