“That was Sloan, nice to everyone. He took off to Dallas for several years and came back about six months ago sporting his tattoos and his earrings, but still the same sweet guy. A giant teddy bear.”
What little I knew of Sloan, I believed that. “Why did he come home?” I asked.
“His mom is sick. That’s her up there.” He pointed to the woman up front. “She got breast cancer. Sloan came home to help her out.”
A lump formed in my throat, making it difficult to talk. “I’m so sorry.”
He turned to look at me with a quizzical expression. “Yeah, everyone is sorry. The world’s a sadder place without Sloan.
The casket lid was propped open, but I didn't think I could bring myself to go up and look. I’d seen enough. I was ready to go.
Turning to leave the room, I saw him standing at the door watching me.
Daniel Crocker.
“I wondered if you’d show up,” he said, looking me up and down. “You look nice. I was about to give up on you but patience is what got me where I am today.”
“Where? In a funeral home?” My retort was so unlike me, but I found his cocky attitude irritating, especially if he killed Sloan.
“Feisty, huh? We’ll see how feisty you really are.” He grabbed my arm. It looked innocent enough, a man assisting a woman, but his fingers pinched deep into my arm. “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
My heart wanted to fling itself from my chest. Should I scream? Should I try to run? I couldn’t get very far in my three-inch heels and screaming seemed irreverent to Sloan. Getting him killed was bad enough; I didn’t want to disrupt his visitation.
“What do you want?” I asked, trying to keep up with him. I willed myself to be brave. I needed to be brave to get out of this.
“You know what I want. Let’s not play stupid.”
He continued to drag me down the hall toward the back exit, past the offices. I knew from standing outside with Joe at Momma’s visitation that the rear of the funeral home was fairly secluded. Going out there alone with Daniel Crocker was a very bad idea.
“You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I tried to pull my arm out of his grasp without making a scene, but his fingers dug deeper. I almost cried out in pain, but swallowed it down.
“Now, now Rose. You and Sloan were sly, just not sly enough. Come on.”
We moved past the crowd in the lobby and started down the empty hall to the exit. I knew it made a right angle at the end of the hall, turning into a three-foot section at the exit. That area would be completely out of view of the mourners in the lobby. My panic rose like a freak desert flash flood; one minute everything is calm, the next, it was raging out of control.
Keep it together, Rose. You can get out of this.
We reached the end of the hall and I dug my heels into the carpet. Daniel Crocker turned to face me with an evil grin. “Wanna do this the hard way, huh?” He gave my arm a vicious jerk and I flew forward into his chest. He made a low guttural sound. “I like you, Rose. I'd like to think we can work something out.”
I had trouble holding down my fear. You can't give into this panic or you won’t be able to think. I pulled away from him, trying to back up in to the hall visible to the people in the lobby, but he grabbed both of my arms and pulled me toward him, out of sight.
“You wanted your anonymity, which was all well and good until you failed to deliver what you were paid for.” He growled into my face. His breath smelled of garlic and onions. “And we had reliable information that you worked at the DMV. I just didn’t know who you were until that Friday I came in. I was there trying to sniff you out and the look on your face when you saw my name told me everything I needed to know.”
I couldn’t hold back the sob that pushed its way to the surface. “I swear, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even know Sloan.” I choked out.
Daniel pinned me to the wall by the back door. He leaned his body into mine. “Now, now, baby. I thought we were past the games.” His eyes traveled down to my chest and back to my face. He smiled, but it was more of a leer. “I like how you’ve spent the money. If it were just me, I’d be willing to forgive and forget, but my partners aren’t as understanding as me. They’re tired of waiting.”
“I don't know what you're talking about. I don’t know what you want.” My words sounded like a whine. So much for being brave.