Love Unspoken

The next morning, Kyle rolled up to Regal Riverside and spotted Alexander just sitting there, frozen on the couch.

Kyle figured Alexander was asleep and tiptoed over, only to see his eyes wide open, staring at something, looking quite frightening.

"Mr. Kennedy," Kyle whispered.

After a few beats, Alexander finally turned his head.

Kyle said, "I did some digging. They're just some low-life thieves. Their boss is Vincent Clark. He's been locked up twice for theft, no big connections." "Where's he at?" Alexander asked.

"Nathan's already on it. We should hear back soon," Kyle replied.

"Kyle," Alexander suddenly called out.

"Yeah?" Kyle asked.

"Among the stuff the crematorium folks brought, there was a necklace with a bell. Where's that?" Alexander asked.

Kyle scratched his head, thinking, and said, "Pretty sure you tossed it."

Alexander shot up, staring at Kyle with this intense look that sent chills down his spine. Kyle stammered, "What's the deal?"

"Can we still find it?" Alexander asked.

"That's gonna be tough." Kyle thought, 'It's been a year, where would we even start?' But seeing Alexander's grim face, he quickly changed his tune, "The funeral home shut down after that mess. If the junk's still there, we might get lucky." Alexander brushed past him and stormed out.

Just as he got in the car, Nathan called to say they found Vincent, but he was already dead.

Alexander headed to the scene. Cops were hauling the body out, and folks were gossiping.

Word was he mixed antibiotics with booze and croaked at home.

Alexander stood in the crowd, staring at the corpse under the white sheet until it was loaded into the police car.

Nathan came over and whispered, "When we found him, he was already dead at home."

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Alexander turned and left. He jumped in the car, floored it, nearly mowing down some onlookers, who started cussing him out.

Seeing this, Kyle quickly followed, worried something might go down.

They sped all the way to the funeral home. Alexander got out and stared at the door.

No one had been there for a year, and weeds were growing in the cracks.

"Mr. Kennedy, what are we doing here?" Kyle asked.

"Open the door!" Alexander barked, grabbing Kyle by the collar and tossing him over.

Kyle stumbled to the door. The lock was too big for him to handle, so he had to call a locksmith to come unlock it.

As soon as the door opened, Alexander rushed in.

He headed straight to the cremation room, searched it, found nothing, and moved next door.

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Kyle trailed behind, neck shrinking, looking around nervously. The dark hallway and eerie silence gave him the creeps. He quickly caught up with Alexander, sticking close to provide light.

The place was pretty much untouched. In some spots, there were even piles of ash. Kyle didn't want to think about what kind of ash it was.

Suddenly, Alexander flipped a stretcher, and the loud crash nearly made Kyle jump out of his skin.

Wearing a suit was a pain for moving around, so Alexander ditched his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs.

He started digging through a pile of discarded iron racks. As he grabbed one, a sharp piece of metal sliced his forearm, and blood started oozing out.

"Mr. Kennedy," Kyle called out instinctively.

Alexander ignored him, not even glancing at his wound. He kept pulling down iron racks, stretchers, and chairs.

Under the pile were scattered items like trays, scissors, and clothes. What he was looking for might be buried there.

Kyle was worried. He thought, 'This junk is all tangled up. If we're not careful, it could all come crashing down.'

Just as he thought that, a loud crash echoed. The pile of junk, about 6.7 feet high, collapsed, all falling towards them. Kyle's eyes widened, and he shouted, "Mr. Kennedy!"