Page 176 of The Woman Left Behind

His fingers closed around and held tight.

I knew this as the warning it was and braced.

“A dark-haired man with a beard in a dark-colored Ford car was seen outside your parents’ motel room in Idaho.”

My stomach dropped, and my lungs deflated.

“Oh my God,” I wheezed.

“We think we have our guy,” Rus said. “And if you give me an official statement of all you remember, it might help us nail him when we find him.”

I broke Rus’s hold as I shot to my feet. “Let’s go.”

Slowly, Rus stood.

Harry did it a good deal faster and walked to the hall closet to get my jacket.

Rus went to the oven and turned it off.

Then the three of us walked to the station so I could give my official statement.

FORTY-THREE

Peace of Mind

Lillian

When we returned home an hour later, Harry went direct to the oven, pulled out the casserole, but switched the oven on to reheat.

Totally out of character, he completely ignored the dogs when he did this and continued to do so as he tugged off his jacket and went to the hall closet.

“Yours,” he grunted once he’d hung his up.

I shrugged mine off and handed it to him.

He dealt with it, walked by me and headed to the fridge, whereupon he pulled out a beer, grabbed the opener from a drawer, popped the cap and took a healthy swallow.

I flipped off my shoes, moved to the couch and got onto it on my knees, settling back on my calves, facing him.

For my part, I was jazzed. Seriously jazzed. Not only because they seemed to be closing in on my parents’ killer, but because I got to make an official statement. I got to say something that might be used to nail this guy when they caught him. And that meant something to me.

I couldn’t find him. I couldn’t try him. I couldn’t sentence him.

But I could do that.

And I did.

So, oh yeah.

I was jazzed.

However, Harry was in a mood I’d never experienced from him, and it brought to the fore for the first time since we began just how new we were.

Harry Moran wasn’t predictable.

Harry Moran was just a down-to-his-soul good man. He wasn’t about guessing games or walking on eggshells or solving relationship mysteries, the solution to which eventually bit you in the ass.

He was Harry.

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