wiped another tear, and her gaze locked with mine. “You’re talkin’ about Seth.”
I nodded. But there was more. I just couldn’t admit to it. I had a whole closetful of regrets, and they were eating me from the inside out. I needed to start letting some of them go.
“They would have killed you too, Carly, and you wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone what you saw,” Thelma said. “Then poor Seth wouldn’t have gotten any justice.” She gave me a tight smile. “You did the best you could. You did the right thing. You need to let the guilt go.”
I nodded again, but Seth’s death wasn’t the only one I needed to atone for. There was no denying I’d set off the cascade of events that had ultimately gotten Jerry killed.
“Is there anything else you can remember?” Marco asked, his hand still on my shoulder.
“Nothin’ of use, I’m afraid,” Thelma said, sounding distracted.
“Well, you’ve been more helpful than you know,” Marco said. “If you think of anything else, can you give me a call?” He pulled one of his business cards from his back pocket and handed it to her. “If you call that number, chances are that I’ll be out. You can leave a voicemail, though, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
She held the card in her hand, looking it over. “Your grandfather would be so proud of you.” She drew her gaze lup to Marco. “I know you never knew him, but he was a deputy too. You remind me of him. Tall. Handsome. Driven by his need to set things right.” She nodded once. “He’d be so proud.”
Marco went still, and his voice seemed rough when he said, “Thank you, Miss Thelma. My father never talks about him.”
“John Phillip Roland died a hero. In a shootout with bank robbers who were tryin’ to clean out Drum Savings and Loan. They’d hit several banks in the area, and your grandfather was the one to stop ’em. His death hurt more people than just his immediate family, but of course it hurt them the hardest. Your father was a boy when John Phillip died, and a boy needs his father around these parts.”
Marco swallowed, and I was sure he was thinking the same thing. Even though he’d had a father growing up, his dad hadn’t taken much of an interest in teaching him how to be a man. Maybe because his father hadn’t been around to teach him.
I stood and took Marco’s hand. “You’ve been very helpful, Miss Thelma. Thank you. Next time we come by I’ll be sure to bring you something for your garden.”
She waved her hand. “I’ve got enough things. I don’t need gifts.”
Maybe not, but I knew how much she loved her garden.
“Thank you, Miss Thelma,” Marco said, then leaned down and gave her a gentle hug.
She patted his back. “The next time you come to see me, I’ll tell you stories about your grandfather, John Phillip.”
“I’d like that.” Marco stood and then turned to me.
I took his hand and led him out the door into the hallway, and when we were out of eyesight, I wrapped my arms around his neck and just held him.
His arms encircled my waist, holding me like that for several long seconds.
Leaning back, I captured his cheeks in my hands and looked him deep in the eyes. “You’re a good man, Marco Roland. You come from a line of good men. Miss Thelma’s right. Your grandfather would be proud of you.”
“Let’s not put the horse in the barn just yet,” he said with a tired look in his eyes. “Our work’s not finished yet.”
No, we were only just getting started, and I feared that whatever lay ahead may be more than our horse could handle.
Chapter Twelve
When we walked out to the front room, Roberta and Gladys were working on their new puzzle, the old one probably swept into its box. I knew they wanted us to stay and chat, but Marco and I had things to discuss, so I waved to them as we headed toward the front entrance.
Marco, of course, blew them a kiss. Roberta pretended to grab it and stuff it down her shirt, and he and I both burst out laughing.
When we got to the parking lot, we stopped next to my car. Marco lifted his hand and tucked my hair behind my ear. “I want to go to the station to look up Cassie Carpenter and find out whether