"Oh, sure, Macy and I went to school together. Well, high school, and only for a couple of years before my parents moved."
"Did she volunteer or work there?"
"In senior year. She wanted to become a mortician, so she worked here for two summers, but . . . Well, trust me, it's not an easy career choice. Especially for a girl. Eventually the pressure got to her. She went into nursing. She kept working here for almost a year after she started college. She told people it was just for the money, but I think she was still considering."
"May I ask you for a reference? Or should that go through someone else?"
"Probably my dad. I'd just tell you she was great. If you talk to her, tell her Kendrick said hi. It's been a while."
"I'll do that. And on another note . . . This is a little awkward, but as long as I have you on the phone . . ."
"What's up?"
"I have an uncle in palliative care, and the funeral home we always used has closed down. I know that's the last thing on my aunt's mind, but . . . the end is close. Is there any chance I could come over and have a chat with someone? See your establishment?"
"When?"
"As soon as possible. It really is . . . close to the end."
"I completely understand." His tone changed, reverting to the soothing one. "We can make an appointment for tomorrow, or tonight after seven--there's a viewing right now."
"Seven would be great."
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
Gabriel fell asleep before we hit the outskirts of Cainsville. This would have been much more troubling if he'd been the one behind the wheel.
That left me with a sleeping passenger and a long stretch of road to play with. A boring, straight stretch. The scenery wasn't much, either. Farmer's fields on my left, the river to my right. The river would have been lovely, if I could have actually seen it--it was at the bottom of a gully. So a boring road and boring scenery, but the car made up for it, so smooth it was like riding on glass. The June sun was just beginning to dip, the car interior cool, the leather seats comfortable, the music . . .
Well, the music needed a shake-up. It was Chopin's Funeral March, which was appropriate, given our destination, but really not a driving tune. I flipped through his library, looking for a Mendelssohn piece I'd heard earlier. I finally found it, and the information scrolled across the display. It was the Overture to A Midsummer Night's Dream.
As I heard Rose's voice, quoting from the fairy play, I looked back at the road. There, in the distance, was a hound. Standing on the road.
I hit my brakes, but as soon as I did, metal crunched and the car swerved. The side air bag whacked into me as the car sheered off the road.
It went over the gully, careening down, then hitting something and flipping and--
The front air bag slammed me in the face. I didn't pass out, but it was as if I mentally left for a few seconds, shock shutting down thought until the car stopped . . . and I was hanging upside down.
I clawed at the seat belt, desperate to get free. Then I managed to stop myself. Nothing was burning. Slow down. Assess.
It took a second for me to even remember what had been happening before the crash. All I could see were the air bags, deflating around me.
I was in Gabriel's car.
Gabriel.
I twisted, calling his name. He was there, slumped onto the roof.
"Gabriel?"
No answer.
I reached over and nudged his shoulder. "Gabriel!"
Still nothing. That's when I scrambled to get free again, caution be damned. I got halfway out of my belt before I found the release. I hit it and fell, knocking my head hard on the roof.
I twisted and writhed, hearing my shirt rip as it caught. My skin ripped, too, warm blood welling up on my arm. I ignored it and got myself right side up, crouched the