Page 151 of Hidden Nature

But because that feeling grew in her, she nodded. “Soon, though. I got an idea on it. Let’s follow her on home. I think this is the place to do it, but let’s follow her on home again, just to see what’s what.”

Impatience scraped, but love smoothed it out again. “You know best, babe.”

She gave his hand a pat. “I believe I do. Just wasting this stolen life she got. Working late every night, going home in the dark to an empty house. And how many people did we see going in that place of hers this last hour?”

“About three, and only one left with a shopping bag.”

“Wasting this stolen life.”

Thewrongnessof it struck Clara to the core and brought her pain. To ease that hurt, she thought of Zach Tarrington’s repentance, and his homecoming.

“We’ll send her to a better place.” She patted Sam’s hand again as he started the engine. “But not tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

March didn’t come in like a lion but more as a bear that lumbered its snowy way over the mountains. It took its time, blew its winds.

The swans returned to thrash their way through the thinning ice and signaled the slow approach of spring.

Sloan took an hour’s personal time at the end of her week to make the drive to Cumberland.

She found the Rigsby house with the last snowfall cleared off the drive, the walkway, shaken from the azaleas that would put on a show once spring took over.

The Cooper in her noted the house had been well built, well maintained with a welcoming, covered front porch and double entrance doors. The LEO hoped for some new detail or angle from Karen Rigsby.

She rang the bell.

She recognized the woman who answered from photos. Karen Rigsby, tall, stately, and square-jawed, had a short, stylish swing of chestnut-brown hair. The color set off the ice-blue of her eyes, as did the long-sleeved, cowl-necked dress of nearly the same blue.

“Ms. Rigsby, I’m Sergeant Cooper with the Natural Resources Police. We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes, I expected you. You’re prompt.”

“I don’t want to take up any more of your time than necessary. I appreciate you taking that time to speak with me today.”

“Come in. I have coffee if you’d like.”

“I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“I’d like some myself. How do you take it?”

“Just a little milk, thanks. Your home’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Karen stood in the foyer a moment, looking around as if judging it herself.

“I thought, and seriously, about putting it on the market, then I thought, the hell with that. I love this place. I helped make this house.

“Sorry. Let me take your coat.”

“Thanks.”

When Karen took it and Sloan’s hat to a closet, Sloan noted no men’s outerwear inside.

“Please, sit. I’ll only be a minute.”

Cleared out his coats, Sloan thought as she scanned the living area. But still had photos of them together, of the family together, a kind of journey through the years in a well-arranged gallery wall.

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