He turned back. “Why, because you think he’s mine? He couldn’t be. She had someone else then, I don’t know who. If she hadn’t it might all have been different. But then the most I could do was be around her. Being with her was something I grew into.”

For the first time he spoke with feeling, as if seeing the pattern of his life. For a moment I thought of Kris Ann. “Then how does it seem now?” I asked. “The rest of it.”

Mooring watched my face, pondering whether to answer. “It’s a habit,” he said at length. “I’ve gotten used to who I’ve become. But you didn’t come to ask that.”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Then tell me your other question.”

I lit a cigarette, still watching him carefully. “Did Lydia ask Cade to get her a divorce?”

His face stiffened. Then he nodded, once.

“When?”

He winced. “Just before she was killed.”

“You mean the afternoon she went to see him.”

“Yes.”

“Is that what you visited her about, just before she left?”

“Yes.” He looked at me steadily, miserably. “I was leaving Joanne.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“At first I thought you knew. I was sure you’d come to the house because Cade had told you. When I realized you knew nothing I was amazed and then I began thinking it was better you didn’t. After I called Cade I was convinced he was acting to protect his client and perhaps others from needless hurt, and that you were irresponsible. And”—Mooring’s voice fell off—”there was no point in hurting Joanne, now.”

“Did you believe she had killed Lydia?”

“No.” Mooring shook his head. “That would be too grotesque. I don’t think she could, even with what I’d done. I just didn’t want—after Lydia died, the only thing left was simple decency. I owed her that.”

He grimaced at the sound of it. I took a deep drag of cigarette smoke. “About Cade: are you sure she actually told him?”

“He didn’t say so exactly.” Mooring looked as though a sudden light had hurt his eyes. “But she must have. When I came back that night Lydia was a different woman. Her first smile seemed to come from deep within her, and then all at once she was smiling and crying and leaning against me. When she looked up, her face was streaked with tears. I brushed her cheek, and asked, ‘Is this what I’m getting?’ She shook her head. ‘It’s just that I’m free,’ she answered, and then she told me I made her feel delivered to herself, after being lost. I couldn’t imagine how I’d done that. But I felt delivered, too. She was all I’d ever wanted.” Mooring turned from me. His voice was thick. “She wouldn’t lie, Shaw. Not about that.”