Page 25 of The Woman Left Behind

Wanna Know a Secret?

Harry

He knew it was a mistake by the time they were half a block down from the station heading toward the Double D.

It wasn’t lost on Harry well before Dern’s downfall that he was a popular guy.

Whether they liked it or not, people needed police.

You had a cop you didn’t trust, you cleaved to the cop you did.

He also knew by the turnout at Winnie’s funeral.

She was well-liked, but a lot of those people were there for him.

So, years later, Harry should have known that walking down the street with a beautiful woman, when he had not done something like that since Winnie died, was going to cause a stir in a small town where people got into other people’s business like it was their job.

And he saw and felt a lot of eyes on them, most of them not trying to hide it.

But Lillian needed to eat, so he couldn’t turn back.

And part of him, a part he wasn’t quite at one with, a part he wasn’t allowing fully to surface, but a part that was still there, thought they’d have to get used to it, so they might as well start now.

Including Lillian.

Though, to give Lillian a break, when they got to the diner, he led them to a booth at the side, not easily visible from the front windows.

They’d barely settled across from each other before Heidi, their waitress, was there.

She opened her mouth, took one look at Lillian after she pulled off her sunglasses, then Heidi’s gaze shot to Harry.

Harry subtly shook his head.

Heidi’s eyes grew melancholy before she blanked it and turned back to Lillian.

“Hey, Lill,” she greeted cheerily. “The usual?”

And there it was.

Lillian lived her life, she was a part of Misted Pines, she had a usual for breakfast at the Double D, and Harry had been so out of it, he’d never noticed her.

Christ.

He wasn’t ever going to share this shit with Doc. He’d never hear the end of it.

“I think I just want coffee,” Lillian ordered.

“She’ll have a full stack of cashew granola pancakes, and a side of bacon,” Harry ordered for her.

Heidi pressed her lips together, but now her eyes were dancing.

“Harry, I can’t eat all that,” Lillian protested.

Harry worked out daily and ate healthy. He did this because his job demanded it. He did this because he represented the sheriff’s department on the whole. And he did it because he didn’t like to feel bloated, weighed down or lackadaisical, which eating shit made him feel.

His mother used to say he was Popeye; spinach gave him superpowers.

She was right.

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