Page 8 of The Woman Left Behind

And that total dickhead, Dern.

As I had to direct all my attention to shoring up my defenses, I said nothing.

“Do you know the Dietrichs?” he asked.

“My dad worked for them,” I said through stiff lips.

“Do you remember hearing about the robbery?”

Oh, I remembered all right.

I nodded.

“First, I want to say that the statute of limitations expired on that crime years ago, Lillian.”

I didn’t care.

Okay, sure, there was a possibility—a slim one—my dad committed that robbery.

Robbery was bad, I knew it. Totally bad.

That said, our illustrious sheriff was making things worse for my parents well before the robbery occurred.

I just never believed (ever) my parents had one thing to do with that robbery. What happened after, I knew they thought they didn’t have any other choice.

But right then, that wasn’t important.

“The information in that file gave me some concerns,” he admitted.

“What concerns are those?” I asked.

“Your parents were suspects.”

I closed my eyes.

Sheriff Moran kept talking. “I can’t be certain, but it seems the jump to them as suspects was…suspect.”

I opened my eyes, feeling something outside dread for the first time since he asked me to sit down. This being shock.

“Sorry?” I queried.

“Neither of your parents had a record. They were both well-liked in the community. I wasn’t a police officer then, but in looking at the file, I vaguely remember a good deal of anger in town that Dern was investigating them.”

“My mom had an in-home daycare. She charged peanuts,” I whispered. “She loved kids. She hated how much daycare cost. One of the reasons they only had me was because they couldn’t afford more kids. So she took in a few kids for folks who had to work, but could in no way afford anyone kind and loving and responsible to look after their children. And Dad could do anything. Plumbing, electrical work, he was great with computers, had a green thumb. I think he was handyman to half of Misted Pines.”

“Right,” Sheriff Moran said softly.

“He didn’t charge an arm and a leg either,” I went on. “They weren’t…” I tried to find a way to describe all that was them and came up with, “Like that. They had each other. Me. This house. This amazing place where we live. They were both outdoorsy, active people. They didn’t need any more.”

“Okay,” he murmured.

“Sheriff Dern, he…he was close to the Dietrichs,” I said like I was admitting something, when it was not me who had something unscrupulous to admit.

“I’m aware,” he replied.

“And he had a…well, a…thing for my mom. Dad was…is a pretty laidback guy. But that upset him.”

“Is?” He jumped on that. “Do you know where your parents are?”

---