311 Pelican Court - Debbie Macomber [113]
Peggy could only imagine how difficult this must be for someone so young. “I hope now that your father’s been found, you have some closure,” she said. The words sounded hollow and trite to her own ears.
“I don’t know if closure is possible until I discover why Dad came to Cedar Cove in the first place,” Hannah responded. “As I was telling Sheriff Davis, we don’t know anyone in Washington state. As far as I’m aware, Dad’s never been to this area before…and he was acting so mysterious when he left. He didn’t want me to find out where he was going—that was pretty clear. I wouldn’t even have known he was leaving if I hadn’t stopped in to see him that day. Can you tell me anything?” she pleaded.
“I wish I could,” Bob answered, “but Peggy and I are as much at a loss as you.”
Peggy murmured agreement.
“I suppose you want to know whatever I can tell you about that night,” Bob said, leaning forward.
“Please. Anything would be helpful.”
Bob proceeded to fill in the details, describing everything he and Peggy had discussed dozens of times, together and with the police.
“Sheriff Davis said sometimes it’s the minutest detail that leads to an answer,” Peggy added.
There was a brief silence after this remark.
“Would you mind answering a few questions I have?” Roy asked Hannah.
“I will if I can.”
Sheriff Davis frowned, but he didn’t intrude.
“I understand your father was injured in a car accident that also killed your mother?”
Hannah’s face was troubled. “He never forgave himself for that.”
“What caused the accident?”
Her eyes widened. “The investigation determined that my father was at fault.”
“I read the accident report,” Roy said slowly, “and your father claimed the steering failed.”
“He did say that,” Hannah agreed, “but the accident investigators couldn’t find anything wrong with the steering system. The only thing they could suggest is the tube leading to the automatic steering system had an air pocket in it. Apparently that sometimes happens, but it’s rare, and without any conclusive evidence, my father was found to be at fault.” She paused and looked at Sheriff Davis. “I think in some ways it might’ve been easier on my dad if he’d died that night.”
“The guilt?” Troy asked.
“That,” she said, “and month upon month of surgery and physical therapy.”
“What about your father’s friends?” Roy asked next.
Hannah glanced down at her hands. “Dad was pretty much a loner. He didn’t have a lot of friends. Oh—there was one old army buddy who helped him get into the VA hospital where he was treated. But other than that…” She shook her head. “Mom told me he was a different man before the war. They were just dating back then, and she saved all his letters. Some days after they’d had an argument, she would sit on their bed and read them. She said they reminded her of what Dad was like before the war.”
“Do you still have those letters?” Roy asked.
“I’d like to see them if you do,” Sheriff Davis said before Roy could ask.
“Yes, but I’d want them back.”
“Of course,” Troy Davis assured her.
“I understand you knew my father.” Hannah’s question was directed at Bob.
He nodded. “We spent a year together in Nam.”
“Can you tell me what he was like then?”
Bob leaned back in his chair and took a moment to compose his thoughts. “What I remember most about Max is his guitar. At the end of the day, we’d sit around and he’d bring it out and strum a few songs. You can’t imagine how much music can do to take the edge off, especially in the situation your dad and I were in.”
“I didn’t know my father played the guitar.”
“He didn’t after—” Bob stopped abruptly and faltered. “Something happened in the war that affected both your father and me. War is like that. It can destroy your soul.”
“He never spoke of the war,” she said softly.
Bob didn’t, either. When he’d first returned from Nam, Peggy had thought it would help if her husband talked about his experiences. He’d refused. Had she known what demons hounded him, she would’ve