As the Coast Guard truck came to a stop in the front parking space, Abby said a silent prayer that God would help her find a way to support Scott in the midst of all he was experiencing. They climbed out of the truck and filed in the front door. Abby had been in the building once before for a neighbor’s funeral, but she’d never been past the front parlor and chapel area. Now Earl, the mortician and Bayfield County Coroner, led them down a brightly lit corridor whose unnatural florescent light added a surreal glow to their journey to the exam room. Abby felt a distinct chill as they headed toward the cold room where the body was being held. Scott didn’t like the smell of the mortuary. Too many bad memories—first his grandfather’s funeral, then his father’s and his grandmother’s. The same desperate, hopeless feelings rose up inside him that he’d felt when he’d endured those losses. And now Mitch. He’d never liked the man, but his stepfather’s death loomed like a specter over his mother’s disappearance.
