Page 165 of The Woman Left Behind

Harry considered a more official version of that for the entire team, because it was more comfortable, easier to move in, friendlier to look at for the average citizen and a lot easier to maintain. But he didn’t want to make that decision so soon after Dern was ousted. He needed the authoritative visual. He needed to make a statement he and his crew took their jobs seriously.

Which meant now, it was still not the time to make the change, with the cases they were investigating reminding people of Dern’s tenure.

But he took the note from Sean.

Expenses like that on a cop’s pay could dig deep.

He and Sean finished their meeting, Sean took off, and Harry opened the folder that had Abernathy’s and Farrell’s bank records in it. Rus had gone over them, and there were some anomalies he wanted Harry to look at.

He saw Rus had highlighted some line items, but he didn’t get that far because his phone screen lit up with a call from Lillian.

She didn’t often call, she texted, so his brows drew together as he took it.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

“Okay,” she whispered, and his back went straight at the pitch of her voice. “A nugget to file away. Apparently, Kimmy keeps track of when the citizens of Misted Pines decorate their houses for the holidays.”

He relaxed.

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“She knows my schedule is this weekend, so she came over and told me my bats were lame, then she dragged me to her shop, and she wants me to buy these things that look like black net Jawas, but their eyes are lit all over their bodies, and they have a witch’s hat.”

“Jawas?”

“From Star Wars. Hang on, I’ll send you a photo.”

He knew he lost her and his phone vibed with a text.

He got the image, and she was correct. They looked like black net Jawas with witches’ hats.

When he heard her talking again, he put the phone back to his ear.

“…less than twenty dollars each. She says I need five.”

“Get three.”

“You think?”

“Are the bats black?”

“Yes.”

“So get three and some orange lights.” The lights in the Jawa witches were orange. “I’ll string them around the porch.”

“Oh my God, I see your vision,” she breathed with excitement.

Fuck, he loved hearing that.

“Harry says we need orange lights,” he heard her say in a normal voice, and he knew she was no longer talking to him. “And three Jawas.”

“They aren’t Jawas!” he heard Kimmy shout. “And you need five.”

“Harry says three.”

A jostling on the phone and then he had Kimmy. “Three isn’t enough. They’re witches, not wise men.”

“Lillian’s front yard isn’t that big.”

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