Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
“That coffee is really good,” he said quietly.
Oh God, he was totally setting me up for bad news.
I knew it, but for sixteen years, I refused to believe it.
“Probably makes it worth the money,” he went on, still going softly.
“And they recycle the pods,” I replied in a monotone, forgetting in this day and age any mention of climate change and doing things to alleviate it to a stranger put your chances at fifty-fifty that person would get up in arms about it. “Unlike the other pods, which are really bad for the environment.”
“Gotta admit, I prefer our lakes and firs like they are, not consumed by fire or ravaged by drought,” he said.
I liked his remark, a whole bunch, but I didn’t like the look on his face a whole bunch more.
He started it. “I’ve had occasion, Lillian, to audit Sheriff Dern’s files.”
“I know. You mentioned it at a town council meeting.”
His eyes sparked with surprise, and I had no idea what that was about. I also didn’t have it in me right then to try to analyze it.
“One of those files was the Dietrich robbery,” he told me.
I knew this was about the Dietrichs.
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?”
I shook my head trying really hard to keep the emotions blazing under the surface from erupting. “That Dietrich thing came up. Dern was being,”—I shook my head again—“it was a little scary.” Make that a lot scary. “And they, um…took off.”
“Have you heard from them since?”
I very much did not want my eyes to fill with tears.
But my eyes filled with tears.
“No,” I said so quietly, even I could barely hear it.
Something warm and kind hit his gaze, even as he asked, “So they left sixteen years ago, and you haven’t heard from them since?”
Left unsaid, And you didn’t tell anyone about it? Like law enforcement?
I straightened my shoulders, took a deep breath, and pulled myself together.
“Okay, I think I need to explain something,” I announced.
Sheriff Moran reached for his coffee cup, sat back in my sofa and encouraged, “Please do,” before he took another sip.
“Well…”
How did I even begin?
“First they were…” I couldn’t stop the small, sad smile that hit my mouth.
I was also descending into memories, the happy kind, so I didn’t notice Harry Moran’s attention dropping to it or the way his long frame stiffened when it did.