Page 35 of The Moment He Couldn’t Walk Away

“I have coffee for you,” Klaus said two hours later, appearing around the wall, two paper cups in hand.

Since he’d started working here, Finch had come to the realization that Klaus just liked people and talking. He was rarely silent for more than ten minutes at a stretch.

“That’s my third, Klaus. I’ll never sleep again. And aren’t you closed for the day?”

“Are you having trouble sleeping, Finch?” Klaus asked, ignoring the second question entirely, the way he ignored most things he didn’t feel like answering.

“Sometimes,” he answered truthfully. Ever since Lynx had returned to Lyntacky, Finch had been trying harder to open up about what was going on inside him. It was uncomfortable, like wearing a shirt a size too small, but he was determined to be more open. The truth was, some nights it was easier to sleep than others, while on other nights, he lay staring at the ceiling fan, unmoving, waiting for his heart to stop pounding from a dream he couldn’t fully remember.

“Klosterfrau Melissengeist is what you need,” Klaus said with the gravity of a man prescribing medicine he fully believed in.

“You’re going to have to give me more than that, Klaus. I mean, the words sound impressive, but it could be snake oil for all I know.” Finch used his pinch bar to pull out a bent nail, working it free with a screech of metal that set his teeth on edge.

He was good at building, he’d realized two days in, but he still made mistakes. Measured twice and still cut wrong sometimes.

“It’s a traditional German herbal remedy, Finch. Made from an alcoholic distillate of lemon balm and other medicinal plants. It’s very popular in my country, found in most homes. It will help you sleep. I’ll give you some.”

Finch fought the urge to say no, the reflex so automatic now, it barely registered anymore. Birdie had told him that people in this town just wanted to help him, so don’t shut them out, don’t constantly say no when they offer him things. Easier said than done for a man who mostly just wanted to be left alone.

“I’ll get you some tomorrow. But now, you head off home and get cleaned up, and we’ll see you there,” Klaus said, already turning to head back to the window.

“There?”

“Shirley’s party is today. Nancy and Hank are hosting it at Circle Left, and Nina needs our support.”

“Party?”

“Her cremation was private, but this is for the town to gather in her memory,” Klaus added.

“Right.” He hadn’t remembered it was today, but then Finch wasn’t even sure he’d been told.

“Everyone who knows Nina will want to be there for her and to pay their respects to Shirley,” Klaus said in a tone that made it clear avoidance wasn’t really on the table.

“Right,” Finch said again, because what else was there to say?

People already thought he was grumpy and unsociable. Would it really matter if he didn’t go?

Driving out of Lyntacky and not looking back sounded good about now, the way it always did when things got close to feeling like too much. But he knew that if he were anywhere else, he’d be alone, and that wasn’t what he needed right now—even if it was, undeniably, what he wanted.

“See you later,” Finch said to Klaus, then headed to his car.

Soon he was driving down the street. He scanned his surroundings, something he’d always done in the military, and that hadn’t changed on leaving it. You never knew who was about, or what kid might appear in front of you, chasing a ball.

Reaching Nina’s place, Finch slowed, then stopped right there in the street. Did he just see someone running down the side of Nina’s house and disappearing around the back? And why was that his business? She had friends and neighbors who were checking on her, surely?

But why would they be running?

He sat there for a moment with the engine idling, scanning the front windows for any sign of movement. Nothing. Finch told himself it was unlikely Nina was home, seeing as her mother’s remembrance party was today. She’d be at Circle Left, getting things ready for a roomful of well-meaning friends and neighbors. Or maybe she was home, had come back to change and grab something she’d forgotten? But if that were the case, why would Nina walk that way around the side of the house and not go through the front door? Had she forgotten her key? If it was her, where was her car?

Finch pulled into her driveway, then parked and sat with his hand on the door handle a second longer than necessary, that old, familiar tightening starting low in his gut, the kind he recognized from another life entirely. He told himself it was nothing and that there was a simple explanation. There always was in a town like this.

Finch got out and walked around the house, keeping his footsteps quiet on the path.

You’re being paranoid.

If Nina was here, he’d say he was just checking on Mabel. A flimsy excuse, but it was all he had on short notice. If no one was here, and he was seeing things, he’d leave, and she’d never know he’d come at all.

Walking around the house, Finch heard a loud yowl, and his pulse climbed. Moving closer to the siding, he reached the end of the wall but could hear no sounds or voices. Stepping out from the protection of the house into the open backyard, he heard a thud and then nothing, so he dismissed it as someone in a house nearby. Studying the yard next, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a clothesline swaying gently and the long shadow of the house stretching toward the back fence.