Page 40 of 44.1644° North
“Did I mention sex?”
“Youmayhave mentioned sex.”
“I’d like all those things, but like I said, it’s not easy to maintain relationships in my line of work. Especially romantic relationships.”
“You know what? It’s not easy to maintain relationships, especially romantic relationships, inanyline of work. Relationships take time and effort and…generosity of spirit. And romantic relationships take all that times ten.”
He looked surprised. “That’s a good point.”
“I know it is. If I ever get tired of people murdering each other, I’m going to start a podcast where I give relationship advice.”
He laughed and rose. “Another Irish coffee?”
I leaned back in my chair and stretched. “Why the hell not?”
* * * * *
The vigil was held promptly at 7:45 in front of the old oak tree where Deirdre had crashed her Saturn.
It was the exact moment when Deirdre had gone missing nineteen years earlier, and it was a vivid reminder of how dark it had been when she climbed out of that car. The shadows of the trees stretched across the highway. The light from the candles we held seemed slight and unsubstantial flickering against the snowbanks. The full moon—the snow moon—hung low over the forbidding spires of the deep woods just a few feet from the road.
Somewhere, off in the distance, a dog was howling.
There were about fifty of us. I was surprised at how few of the true-crime crowd showed up for the vigil. Hailey was there, and a handful of others, but there was no sign of Weber, which—given Pat’s feelings—was probably a relief to everyone.
Mostly, the attendees seemed to be local people. Simon Overhiser was there snapping photos for theWoodlark Weekly.
The family was all in attendance. Deirdre’s mother had died ten years earlier, but Deirdre’s sisters, looking as beautiful and solemn as ancient Irish priestesses, formed a half-circle around their father.
Pat thanked friends, family, and everyone dedicated to finding Deirdre for coming, thanked the people of Woodlark for their continuing patience and kindness over the years, thanked law enforcement for their ongoing efforts.
“We still believe that someone out there knows something, and that the time will come when that person will no longer be able to bear the burden of silence. The burden of guilt. Because silence is complicity. We’re sure that every day brings us closer to resolution. Thank you all for your unwavering love and support. We couldn’t have made it without you.”
Little cards were handed out with Deirdre’s smiling photo on one side and the address of the Blue Bear Lodge, where the family had rented a room for a reception following the vigil.
The vigil concluded with a prayer and then a few lines from one of Deirdre’s favorite poems.
And she is swallow-fleet, and free
From mortal bonds and bars.
She laughs, because eternity
Blossoms for her with stars!
The pale face of the snow moon gazed down enigmatically.
Chapter Ten
George the bartender hailed us when we entered the Swiftwater Pub after the vigil.
“The police were here this afternoon. They said there was a break-in at your cabin? Was anything stolen?”
“Attempted break-in, and no,” I said.
His bleak gaze seemed to take in the entire room, as usual packed with people talking and laughing at the top of their lungs. “There’s always trouble with this crowd.”
Rory asked, “Is there?”
