Page 184 of The Woman Left Behind

Harry, in faded jeans, boots, a walnut-colored sweater, over it, a shit-hot forest-green jacket with a yellow-stitched badge at the left breast and yellow shields on the arms just under his shoulders, his lustrous dark-brown hair windswept, walked in the side door.

“Hey,” I called.

“Hey, Lill,” he replied, bending to give his pups some love.

Totally liked Lill better than Lilly.

“That took a while,” I observed. “You want me to make you some breakfast?”

He went right to the coffee machine and put in a pod. “I’ve got to chat with you, shower and get to the station. Polly can run to the bakery and get a donut for me.”

My brows shot up at the donut mention, even if he couldn’t see them. He was pouring creamer in a mug he’d placed under the Nespresso spout.

He put the creamer back in the fridge before he came to me.

That was my first full look at his expression, and the first I realized he hadn’t given me his normal Harry greeting, which was kissing some part of my face (usually, he went for the lips).

He did that now, choosing my forehead.

Then he yanked a chair close and sat in it, our knees brushing.

Oh boy.

I didn’t take this as a good sign.

“I’m wondering if my guy told a fib with all that ‘routine’ business,” I remarked after he sat, and his searching eyes found mine.

“Caught,” he whispered.

Oh boy!

“I’m sorry, Lilly.” (Okay, maybe I did like Lilly better, even if he was using it while admitting a fib.) “I wanted you to sleep. I also wanted to know all that was going on before I told you.”

Great.

“So, what all was going on?” I prompted.

“Willie burned down the stables at my place last night.”

I jerked in my seat.

“What?” I shouted.

“Unfortunately, my dad caught him after he lit the match. More unfortunately, this for Willie, he tried to get away, Dad took out one of his tires with his shotgun, and Willie lost control of his car and hit a tree. Fortunately, he only has mild whiplash and a sprained wrist. But Dad was able to call 911 and get close to him. Not many people defy the orders of a man holding a shotgun whose barn is burning behind him, and you lit the fire. He didn’t try to make a break for it. The deputies showed. Arrested him. Took him to the hospital. Had him looked at. Then checked him out, and he’s in the cell next to Dern.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“I called the FBI in Seattle. They’re on their way. They took off several hours ago, so they’ll be here soon. I gotta get to the station.”

“Willie burned down your stables,” I said wanly.

“Dad’s fine. Willie’s fine,” Harry assured. “The stables, though, are toast.”

“And your dad had to shoot my ex-husband.”

Yep.

Still talking dispassionately.

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