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“I don’t know!” she cried. “But I worried he might change his mind if I didn’t do what he said. I...” She fell silent. When she spoke again it was a whisper. “I hoped he knew something about my dad.”
Now it all began to make a little more sense. “Why would you think that?”
“What else would he want to talk to me about? I never had any business with him before. I figured maybe he knew something about what happened the night of Grover’s murder and my dad’s suicide.”
“Why would he wait all these years? I’ve been through the old records, Sara,” he said gently. “There’s little doubt about what happened. Clay Benson and my secretary say they remember the case like it was yesterday.”
“But there could have been mistakes.”
“Earl was an alcoholic and might not have been the best historian. Every now and then he spent time at a mental-health facility down in Minneapolis.”
“That doesn’t mean he couldn’t remember something important,” she insisted, tears glittering in her eyes.
“Even if he had told you about your dad, you couldn’t be sure it was true—it might have been something he’d hallucinated.”
She bowed her head. “Then all my hopes were for nothing.” A solitary tear slid down her face as she turned away. “If you don’t need me anymore, I think I’ll go home.”
“Wait.” He gently caught her wrist. Through the denim fabric her bones felt fragile, and he felt an overpowering urge to protect her. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you thinking you’d missed your one chance to find out the truth.”
“I’m still not convinced.” She pulled away from him and strode to her SUV, where Harold watched her from the front seat. “And I’m not going to stop looking for answers, either.”
Nathan followed. He caught the edge of her door as she opened it and slid behind the wheel. “Will you be okay?”
She nodded. “What about Leon? What will happen to him?”
“I’ll go out to talk to him, make sure he understands about his father.”
“But will he be okay on his own?”
“I’ll alert the county so Social Services can send someone out to assess him. Given his mental status, he’ll be considered a vulnerable adult.”
“That poor man. Losing his father and then his home.”
“Maybe. He might be able to manage there with some assistance and a conservator for business matters. If not, there are group homes in the county.”
“He seems so shy. I doubt he’d like them.”
“It could be a tough adjustment,” Nathan agreed. “But who knows? Maybe he’d really enjoy interacting with peers in a home. I know the local social workers, and they’re both top-notch. They’ll do what’s best for him.”
“Will you let me know?”
“Sure.” Nathan stepped back and shut the door for her, then waited as she rolled down the window. “About your dog... I didn’t want to discuss this while Josh was here, but I understand there was some trouble in town.”
Sara turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. “Some boys taunted Josh. Harold was only being protective.”
“I had several calls saying that the dog was vicious and completely out of control.”
Sara turned to face him, her mouth set in a grim line. “Harold was guarding Josh.”
“Maybe. But if there’s any more trouble, Animal Control may need to pick him up.”
She reached over to lay a protective hand on the German shepherd’s shoulder. “There won’t be, because I’ll make sure Josh doesn’t walk him again.” She hesitated, then gave a resigned sigh. “Harold had a long career with a police department, before being...uh... put up for adoption. He’s had training that would put any other dog in town to shame. Don’t be thinking that he’s dangerous and needs to be disposed of, because it isn’t going to happen. Are we done yet?”
“I guess we are.”
“Good.” She bent to release the parking brake.
“Just one question—how did you get him?”
