Harraway huffed like an old steam engine coming to a reluctant stop. Settling his bulk in his squeaking swivel chair, he clasped his massive hands together and stared at Glynis for a long moment. Jake thought he looked nettled, almost angry.

“I don’t like having strangers poking around in the town’s business,” he said.

Jake felt surprised. “The town’s business?”

“Mrs. Sinclair was one of this town’s most important citizens. We went out of our way to take care of her, to protect her.”

Yeah, Jake thought. Some protection.

“She had cancer,” Harraway said, so softly that Jake wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly.

“Cancer?” Glynis asked.

“Inoperable. From what Dr. McGruder told me, she’d been on chemotherapy for more than two years, but it wasn’t working. She was going to die. In a lot of pain.”

“So Sinclair ended it for her,” Jake said.

“And himself.”

Jake turned to Glynis. “That’s the motivation.”

“I see,” she said. Abruptly, Glynis stood up. “Thank you, Captain Harraway. We appreciate your taking the time to talk with us.”

Harraway got up, too, slowly, like a tidal wave rising. “Just doing my job, Miss.”

Jake got to his feet and walked with Glynis out of the office, through the quietly busy station, and out onto the street where his Mustang was parked next to a Vernon police cruiser. It was bitingly cold, thin gray clouds hiding the sun.

He helped Glynis into the car, then went around and slid in behind the wheel.

It wasn’t until they were well out of town that Glynis hissed, “He’s lying through his teeth.”

“What?”

“Captain Harraway is a liar. Arlan didn’t shoot his wife. He couldn’t have. And he certainly didn’t kill himself.”

Jake kept his eyes on the highway, remembering Nacho Perez’s threat about icy roads and accidents. But he could hear the absolute certainty in Glynis’s voice.

“Don’t you think you might be a little biased about all this?” he asked.

“Why would Arlan buy a pistol for his wife? What did she need to be protected from? The whole town was watching out for her, from what you’ve told me.”

Jake had to admit, “Yeah, that’s true.”

“And how could Arlan shoot himself in the right temple? He was left-handed.”

“He was?”

“He was.”

Jake drove for more than a mile before he heard himself ask, “You think Harraway’s claim that Mrs. Sinclair had cancer was a lie?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Before Jake could think of anything more to say, Glynis told him, “We’ve got to get to this Dr. McGruder, whoever he is.”

The Big Rig

THE BIG RIG