A sly grin formed as Tim said, “Man, is Sadie going to be surprised when she finds out you can see them, too. She told us there weren't any other death coaches in this part of Minnesota."
"I'm not going to her cabin. I don't want to be a death coach.” Straightening his back, Aanders said, “I'm not going anywhere to be with a bunch of dead people."
"Well I'm dead and you're with me. And you've got dead people in your house all the time."
"That's different."
"No it's not. What's the big deal? You don't need to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid.” Aanders’ shout echoed through the embalming room.
"You are, too. If you won't go with me, then you're a big chicken."
Belly stirred at the outcry and thumped his tail vigorously against the floor.
"I'm not a chicken,” Aanders said, cupping Belly's face in his hands. He pressed his nose against the dog's forehead.
"Then prove it."
As intriguing as the challenge was, Aanders felt his throat fill with acid. Over the years he had listened to rumors of Sadie's imaginary friends and had witnessed her waving her hands and talking into the wind as she stood on her porch. Now he understood why. He was cursed with the same powers. Sadie might be their babysitter, but he refused to take care of dead people.
Aanders pulled at his shoelace and flicked at Belly's ear with the stiff end of the lace. “Do you really have to make a death decision?” Gazing at Tim out of the corner of his eye he saw him nod.
"I either have to go back through the light or go to the parallel world. I don't want to leave you, but I have to find Mom and Dad. They'll miss me if I go to the other place."
"But they're in cold storage over there,” Aanders said, pointing toward the walk-in cooler.
Tim sat with his legs straight and tapped his feet together. “That's just their bodies. Mom and Dad aren't in those bodies anymore. Their spirits went through the light when they died. I saw it happen.” His body vibrated in rhythm with the tapping of his toes.
"You couldn't stay with me instead, could you?” A tinge of hope flickered across Aanders’ face.
"No. Sadie said I don't have a choice. If I don't go through the light within thirty days, I'll fade away all together."
"Like a ghost?"
"I don't think so. Sadie said it meant I'd disappear into the air like campfire smoke. I'd never see my parents again."
Aanders swiped at a tear as it rolled down his cheek.
"I'm going to miss you, Aanders.” Tim rested his hand on Belly's back and edged it toward Aanders until their hands touched. A sob escaped as Tim hid his face against his knees.
"Me, too. I still can't believe you're going to be gone for real."
"Me neither,” Tim said, wiping his cheeks across the denim covering his knees. “We can still be together until I have to go."
"Really?"
"I bet you didn't know I slept in your room last night."
Aanders felt the hair rise on his neck as he stared at his friend. “In my bedroom?"
"Yes. And guess what. I saw your mom in her underwear when she came out of the bathroom."
"For real?” Aanders said.
"For real."
Both boys leaned their heads against the wall to contemplate the past few minutes. Grunts from the obese dog drew the lads from their thoughts as Belly struggled to get to his feet.
"Don't you wonder what the other world would be like? If you decided to go there, I could go there when I die, too."
Tim paused before he answered. “No. I think I better find Mom and Dad. I don't want them to get lonesome."
"Maybe they're already in the other world. Maybe you should go there to find out."
"No, they're not. Sadie said only those who are held back from going through the light can go to the parallel world."
Aanders weighed Tim's answer. “You told me you had unfinished business. What kind of unfinished business would a kid have?"
"I wondered the same thing at first. I wasn't in business like my dad, but after I listened to the other crossers sort things out, I know why."
Both boys turned toward the sound of the hearse bay door rising.
"Mom's back,” Aanders whispered.
"Be quiet and she won't know you're here,” Tim said.
"She'll think we're crazy sitting on the floor in the dark."
Tim smiled. “She'll think you're crazy because she won't see me."
Footsteps shuffled past the door. Aanders held his breath. He listened to the sound of her shoes against the treads while she climbed and closed the door behind her.
Aanders exhaled, then he grasped the stainless steel counter. “I'd better get up there. She'll be looking for me.” Before Aanders left the room, he turned back toward Tim. “What was your unfinished business?"
"I already told you. We were murdered. I saw something right before the car rolled over and I think I know who did it. But because I can't go to the sheriff, you've the only one who can help me prove it."
10
Mr. Bakke lifted the deceased man's shoulders while Nan slid an adjustment block under him to incline the body for better drainage. The elderly gentleman removed several tools from the drawer and placed them in a stainless steel tray.
"Looks good,” Nan said. She checked the entrance incision for the embalming tube. She reached up and moved the overhead light into position before inserting the arterial tubing. Nodding toward Richard Fossum, she said, “His sister called this morning. She'll deliver the clothing for the family tomorrow afternoon."
Nan removed the cap from a jug of embalming fluid. “I can't imagine what Richard's sister is going through losing three loved ones at the same time."
"It's going to be one humdinger of a funeral.” Mr. Bakke raised his eyes to meet Nan 's.
"I've been so busy, I can't remember if I asked you to assist with the wake as well as the funeral. If I didn't, I apologize. I don't mean to take you for granted.” Nan reached for a scissors and snipped the plastic tubing at an angle to accommodate the end of the pump's nozzle. “I'm glad Richard's sister agreed to one funeral rather than three separate ceremonies. I agree with her. It's easier for everyone to come together all at once. Some of their family's coming from quite a distance."
Mr. Bakke patted Nan 's hand. “You did ask for my help and I'll be here. Jane sent my suit to the cleaners, so I should be good to go."
The embalming room door swung wide as Belly butted it with his head. He crossed the floor, with his nose skimming the tile. The dog snorted a wet spatter against Mr. Bakke's sandals before inspecting the far corners of the room.
"That dog seems to know how to get in when there's no possible way,” Nan said. “Aanders must have left the door open again."
Belly made one final turn around the room before clacking his nails across the tile floor and grunting his way up the stairs.
"Apparently he didn't find what he was looking for,” Nan said.
"Apparently,” Mr. Bakke said, raising his gaze toward Nan and then back to the body on the table.
Nan closed the cooler door as she pushed the second cart into the center of the room. “Aanders asked me a question the other day I couldn't answer. He was wondering when Belly actually claimed ownership of the Witt sisters?"
Tipping his head in contemplation, Mr. Bakke said, “I would guess it was about seven years ago. My memory isn't that good, but I think it's been that long. Now he thinks he owns them."
Mr. Bakke handed Nan a catheter. “Once in a while I'd see him standing on the property line between Sadie's cabin and his other owners’ house. He looked pathetic. He'd sniff toward his other owners, bark at them, and then go back to Sadie's. Sadie said he was giving them one last chance to beg him to come back."
Nan grinned as she pictured Belly's indecision. “Sadie still insists Belly isn't her dog."
"That's true,” Mr. Bakke said. “But don't kid yourself. Sadie loves that old dog. She uses it as an excuse when someone complains about Belly or when Carl threatens to fine her for not having a dog license."