Page 73 of Lost Hours
“By the time I finished searching the mayor’s house, it was too late. I would’ve had to wake them up, so I didn’t go.”
“Honestly, I didn’t think you would.” He gave a bitter smile.
She stared at him when her focus should’ve been on the road. “Why would you say that?”
He didn’t answer right away but took a few deep breaths. “I’m not sure you really want to let go of your anger with me.”
Was he right? What if her parents had been duplicitous enough to have sent Nolan packing without ever telling her? Would it be even worse than Nolan having left her?
Oh, man. She just didn’t know.
She faced the road again. On the surface, it made no sense that she didn’t want to know the truth about why he’d left the way he had. But she’d carried the anger for so many years, it was almost comfortable. Like a favorite pair of jeans she didn’t want to get rid of even when they were worn out. It took more effort to let it go than to continue on the same path.
Nolan had bailed on her. He’d left her devastated, and she’d shut herself off. Closed down. Completely. Was that the effect of holding unforgiveness in her life? Did she need to forgive because she not only needed God to forgive her sins, but for her emotional well-being too? To be able to love and trust a man—anyone—again?
Oh, please, help me find it in my heart to forgive him. To move on. To trust.
Maybe he was right. Maybe shedidneed to make a point of seeing her parents. Not only for him, but for herself too.
“You could be right, I don’t know. I’ll go see them as soon as I can.” She looked at him again. “But you know this investigation and finding Becca has to take priority over anything personal.”
He sagged against the door. “I know.”
She couldn’t say anything else to change his disappointment. At least she couldn’t think of anything else to say, so she clammed up and kept her attention on the drive. They remained unspeaking through the coastal range, down to the Oregon coast. Silence, save the tires running over wet pavement, filled the car. Not a comfortable silence. But one loaded with tension.
She approached an inexpensive apartment complex on the outskirts of town and breathed a sigh of relief. The complex was located far away from pricey, ocean-view housing. She wouldn’t consider this a slum by any means, but it was definitely bargain accommodations. Two six-story blocks of apartments with outdoor concrete walkways and faded aqua doors greeted them, the blacktop lot crumbling.
Nothing about the sketchy location where her deputies often responded to callouts would deter Mina as she parked and raced for the third floor. She ignored the handrail and walkway railings with chipping paint. Nolan jogged up the steps behind her until they reached apartment 312.
She pounded on the door and stood back, her hand resting on her sidearm.
The door opened, and a tall, lanky man with thinning blond hair stared at her, a scowl on his face. “Yeah?”
“I’m Sheriff Park.” Mina held out her credentials. “And this is my associate Nolan Orr. We’re looking for Ty Rowe.”
“That’s me. What do you want?” He thrust out his chin in defiance. “I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“I have some questions for you regarding your replies on Mayor Sutton’s Instagram posts.”
“That old geezer? Don’t tell me he complained to you.” Rowe frowned. “I didn’t do anything illegal. Just speaking my mind, which the First Amendment allows.”
“Do you mind if we come in and talk about this?” Mina asked, but she eased past him into an apartment that hadn’t seen a vacuum cleaner, mop, or dusting cloth in quite some time.
She stopped near a black leather sofa holding a laptop and gaming controls. On the opposite wall, a large TV took up nearly the entire space. Below that, several different gaming systems filled rickety-looking black shelves.
She didn’t sit, but he charged inside and plopped down next to the laptop. Nolan came to stand next to her, and they both looked down at him.
She cleared her throat. “You were seen on Monday having lunch with the mayor.”
“So what?”
“You were having a very heated discussion with him,” she said.
Rowe crossed his arms. “Far as I know, arguing isn’t a criminal offense.”
“What were you arguing about?” Nolan asked.
“What do you think?” Rowe rolled his eyes. “His stupid liberal politics. He’d give away the whole town’s treasury on his do-gooder crusades if people like me didn’t call him out.”
