Chapter 23
The funeral crowd was dispersing when Lucy spotted a short, slim young man who seemed markedly suspicious. He had just turned away from the gravesite and the expression on his face was not one of mourning. Head down, hands in his pockets, he seemed to actually be smiling.
That’s him, Lucy thought, her nerve ends tingling. That’s got to be him.
She stood still and watched him as he walked by her just a few feet away. That was definitely a grin on his face. This man was gloating, not grieving, Lucy was sure of it. She turned and started to follow him.
From behind, she could see his shoulders shaking a little—from laughter, not sobbing, there could be no doubt. She took longer strides to catch up with him, thinking carefully how to confront him. She thought it best to be straig
