He nodded, but he didn’t look happy about it. I could understand that. He wasn’t the kind of man who liked accepting help, although he was smart enough to know when he needed it.

“Mobley,” a woman called out from the hallway. “There’s a phone call for you.”

“It’s gonna have to wait, Verna,” Mobley said with an edge of irritation. “I’m busy.”

“It’s important,” she said, sounding nervous. “That client from before’s not very happy.”

The client was clearly someone important—more important than poor Seth Chalmers—because Mobley’s smile wavered, and he gave us a slight nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to take this.” And he hurried out the door.

I considered asking Dwight for help getting Hank out of the chair, but his foul expression suggested he wouldn’t be gentle. Giving Hank a soft smile, I said, “Okay. Let’s do this.”

It took some maneuvering, but I got him balanced on his remaining foot. He wrapped his right arm around my shoulder, and we took a couple of awkward steps toward the table. When we got close enough, Hank grabbed the table with his left hand to help him stay balanced.

Since Dwight didn’t seem inclined to help us any further, I slowly reached for the sheet and pulled it down to Seth’s collar bone, exposing his bruised and battered face. His left eye was swollen, and his lip had a cut. A deep bruise discolored his right cheek.

I felt lightheaded, but a guttural sound from Hank snapped me out of it. His knee buckled, and I shifted my position to brace his weight.

“Do you want to sit down?” I asked quietly, fighting the urge to cry.

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak and then shutting it.

Dwight released a yawn.

I jerked my gaze to him, barely holding back my temper. “Can you show a little respect here?”

Dwight just leered at me.

Was Dwight just an asshole or had he played a part in Seth’s murder? Would he be so blatantly cavalier if he were involved? I studied his irritated demeanor. He struck me as the kind of guy who thought he could do whatever he wanted, damn the consequences.

Hank ignored him, his chin trembling as he stared down at the boy.

I hadn’t paid much attention to Seth’s features in the dimly lit parking lot, but I got a better look at him now. He had a sprinkling of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and even with the bruising and swelling I could see that he’d been an attractive boy. Had he left behind a grieving girlfriend? How were his best friends handling this? I couldn’t help thinking about the empty seat in his classes. On Monday, this boy had probably been at school, worried about homework and football games, and now he was dead on a stainless steel slab.

My resolve steeled—whoever did this had to pay.

Hank slid his arm from around my neck, so I tightened my hold around his waist to keep him upright. He reached for Seth’s cheek, cupping it slightly at an awkward angle.

“What did you do, boy?” Hank whispered, tears streaming down his face. One dropped onto the white sheet.

“They say he pissed off the wrong people,” Dwight said as he gave me a point-blank stare.

Was he talking about me?

I started to defend myself, but this creep wasn’t worth my effort. At least not for me. But I’d be damned if I’d let him talk to Hank like that. “Mr. Chalmers is grieving. Could you please keep your hurtful comments to yourself?”

Dwight shrugged, leaning a hand against the table and taking a leisurely pose.

Now I was good and pissed. “You need to leave and give Hank a few minutes to pay his respects in privacy.”

“No can do,” he said with a laugh.

I released my hold on Hank, making sure he was supporting himself against the table, and took a step toward Dwight. “Then we’ll be taking Seth’s body elsewhere, and I’m sure your boss won’t be too happy you’re the reason, what with you needing this job and all.”

Dwight stood upright and towered over me, his jaw working as his face flushed.

“Do as she says,” Hank said in a surprisingly firm voice. “Leave us be or I’ll move him to Valley Funeral Home.”

Dwight released a string of curses, but he headed for the door. Before he left, he turned around in the doorway and said, “You have five minutes or until Mobley comes back.”

I shut the door behind him and locked it, the clacking sound of the lock catching bounced off the hard-surfaced room.

Once Dwight was gone, Hank hunched over the table, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

I tried to hold back my own tears, but the sight of the broken man was too much. I moved next to him and placed a hand over his. “I’m so very sorry, Hank.”

Although Hank had absolved me of any responsibility, I hadn’t absolved myself. I still questioned whether that car alarm had led to his death. I probably always would.

He nodded, his head still hanging as he stared at his grandson’s face. After a half minute or so, he sucked in a deep breath and rose up. His hand fumbled with the sheet to pull it down further.

I reached past him and grabbed the edge. “Are you sure?”

He pushed my hand away and jerked down the sheet himself, exposing Seth’s naked chest. A brutal Y-shaped cut marred his pale skin, along with two angry red holes on either side of it.

Hank’s body stiffened and he placed his hand flat on the table, his body now shaking with anger instead of grief. “I told that boy to leave it alone. I told him it would get him killed.”

I didn’t respond, just leaned my arm gently against his, silently offering what support I could.

He tugged at the sheet again. At first I thought he was trying to expose Seth’s entire body, but instead, he freed Seth’s left hand and fumbled to hold it.

I picked up Seth’s cold hand, expecting his arm to be stiff, but it bent enough for me to move his hand into Hank’s reach. My fingers brushed against something rough. Turning Seth’s hand over, I gasped at the blackened wound in the center of his palm.

“That wasn’t there when I saw him,” I whispered.

Hank’s gaze jerked to mine. “Are you sure?”

I nodded. “That’s where the numbers were written.” I repeated them in my head—5346823.

His eyes widened. Then he whispered, “Shh.”

My heart hammering, I nodded.

Hank picked up Seth’s hand and stared down at the rough-edged rectangular wound.

“I want to take pictures of it,” I whispered. “If this is part of a coverup, we need to prove this was here.”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding weary, and I realized his leg was trembling.

Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I snapped photos from several angles, hoping they were good enough. The camera on my burner phone wasn’t very high quality, and the photos were slightly grainy. Still, it was better than nothing. Just as I slipped my phone back into my pocket, the doorknob jiggled, and I jumped.

“Dwight?” Mobley called from the hall. “What’s goin’ on in there?” The door rattled as he tried to open it again.

Hank leaned forward as he lifted Seth’s hand, kissing the back of it. “Rest in peace, boy. You done good.”

The door shook with Mobley’s attempts to get in.