Page 13 of The Woman Left Behind

I wanted to pull away. He had better things to do with his time than comforting a woman on the floor in her bathroom. Perps to bring to justice. Drugs to confiscate. Jaywalkers to warn. Stuff like that.

But I couldn’t stop crying.

I was learning sixteen years of knowing—knowing—and not letting yourself believe pent up a lot of tears.

“We-we should contact those re-records people. Idiot woman l-lives in denial for s-s-sixteen years. I bet I beat them all by a mile,” I said.

Harry’s strong arms gave me a gentle squeeze. “Stop it, Lillian.”

I shoved my forehead hard into his neck and murmured, “I always knew.”

He rubbed my back and whispered, “Yeah.”

We sat there, him holding me, me letting him hold me, and it seemed like we did it for a long time.

Eventually, it hit me that jaywalking was dangerous, and someone had to levy a warning on those who did it, so I pulled out of his arms, swiped at my face again and lied, “I’m okay.”

Harry got to his feet in a smooth, agile move that I really wanted to appreciate, but he was pulling me up and I had to concentrate on not falling down again, not to mention, I didn’t appreciate much right then.

“Is there someone you could call?” he asked when we were both standing in my tiny bathroom.

I nodded.

“Can I call them for you before I go?”

I shook my head. “I can do it. Do you want the, um…DNA sample now?”

“Maybe tomorrow. Can you come by the department?” he requested.

Another nod from me.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little holder that looked like it was made of baseball glove leather. He flipped it open and slid out a business card. He handed it to me and I took it.

“Call me and let me know when you can make it in. I’ll take the sample personally.”

That was nice and all, but I’d hurled in front of him. I’d cried into his uniform (I could see the mascara smears on his shoulder, yikes!). I didn’t need to open my mouth and let him rub a Q-tip in it.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“We’re in this together now, Lillian.”

Tears filled my eyes.

I had friends.

I had my grandparents, all getting up there in years, but still living and doing it in Indiana.

But after my parents disappeared, I’d felt very alone.

Enter Willie and me making the stupidest decision of my life.

Now, Handsome Harry Moran was telling me we were in this together.

I couldn’t hack it.

“Don’t be nice to me,” I warned.

Surprise slashed through his face. “Pardon?”

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