Page 116 of The Woman Left Behind

Jace kept going.

“The amount in arrears got pretty extreme, Sonny went to collect what he was owed and overheard Gerald talking to someone he thought was Leland Dern, seeing as there was a sheriff’s cruiser in the drive and he knew Dern was tight with Dietrich. They were talking about the financial jam Dietrich was in and how, if some things disappeared, the insurance company could help him out. Sonny told Avery Dietrich also spoke of finding a ‘fall guy.’”

“Goddamn it,” Harry gritted.

“My thoughts exactly,” Lynda agreed heatedly.

Jace came back to them.

“Sonny put this together, came home, and he and Avery didn’t know what to do about it considering they couldn’t report it to Dern. However, they realized very quickly that Gerald somehow found out Sonny overheard, or they just picked him as their fall guy, and as such, they both noted Gerald and his wife Michelle, not to mention Dern, seemed to be stalking them over the next few days. Worried that Sonny was going to be set up, and the ‘long arm of Leland Dern’ meant they’d have to go farther afield to find law enforcement to report this to, they quickly made worst-case-scenario arrangements for Lillian. They were proved right. Dern hauled them in to question them about the robbery. Once they were released, they took off.”

Dern picked Sonny, Harry knew it.

He picked him because he had his eye on Avery.

“Hang on a second,” he said to his phone, then hit the intercom button to Polly.

“Yeah, Harry?” she answered.

“Get a call in to whoever has jurisdiction where Dern lives. We need to start coordinating who’s going to go get his ass. I want him in an interrogation room as soon as feasibly possible.”

“On it,” she said.

He went back to the crew in Idaho. “I can confirm that the Dietrichs were paid out for the insurance claim on the robbery. I can also confirm they were spreading cash around town to make good on debts they’d racked up, which I can assume was cash they had for selling their own stolen property.”

“Fuckin’ assholes,” Jess muttered in the background.

“We got more,” Lynda said. “There were prints on the gun found in that grave. We ran them through AFIS. No hits. Your ex-sheriff would be in the system, so he’s out on that, since we also got confirmation that the bullets in the bodies came from that gun.”

He knew Dern didn’t pull the trigger.

Now he just wondered if Dern knew who did.

“Also, Sonny’s wallet and Avery’s purse have not been found,” Lynda reported. “The plate they registered at the hotel for their car put it as a rental. It was found abandoned within a couple of days of them disappearing from the motel and returned to the rental car agency. Nothing came of that. It was in good nick, and they’d paid for it for a week up front, so the rental company didn’t make a fuss. Why no one asked further questions about the people who rented it, I have no clue. Except for the fact that request would go to your sheriff, so maybe they did, and those inquiries died in Fret County. We sent more boys out to where the bodies were found to have a better look around to see if we can find the wallet and purse.”

“Right,” Harry said.

“We got motive with that journal, but big gaping holes everywhere,” Lynda stated. “Why didn’t they go direct to the police? Why did they leave the motel? Why were they up on that mountain? The missing purse, wallet. And who was in that parking lot the owner saw? We got people canvassing. Long time ago, not many folks in those areas are the same now as they were then. We’re trying to track down anyone who worked in that area to see if memories can be jogged. Sonny and Avery had to eat. Maybe a waitress remembers them. And maybe she’ll remember a white guy with dark hair and a beard too. Maybe pigs will fly, but I don’t mind my bacon raining from above. Bacon’s bacon. I’ll take it as I can get it.”

“Good, Lynda,” Harry muttered, thinking she was hilarious, and he liked how invested she was in this, but he was also feeling what he rarely felt in this job, no matter how tragic or hectic or frustrating it could get.

Heavy.

So fucking heavy.

Coors and sundresses and the words of a woman in her journal, sharing how much she loved her husband, twenty plus years down the line of being with him.

Fuck.

Him.

“One other thing,” Jace said. “In Avery’s suitcase, there was a letter with postage on it. It’s addressed to Lillian. They had to open it, and it explains they had to leave to keep themselves and her safe. They couldn’t tell her they were going, or why, also to keep her safe, but Avery promised they’d be in touch soon and they’d come back as soon as they could.”

If they’d posted that letter, she would have known.

If they’d posted that letter, she could have found her way to some honest cop who might have found answers for her sooner.

If they’d posted that letter, she wouldn’t have had to live sixteen years, wondering, scared, trying to hold on to hope, and honing her skills with denial.

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