Before I could ask another question, he exchanged a look with his partner.
“Is Mr. Harrison home?”
Someone knocked on my front door.
I glanced through the window.
Mr. Harrison stood outside.
The older officer opened the door before I could decide what to do.
“Evening, Harrison.”
Mr. Harrison’s expression changed when he saw the uniforms.
“I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Did you leave a box on this porch?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mr. Harrison looked directly at me.
“Because her mother deserves to know what her family did.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded.
He pointed toward the photograph.
“Ask your mother about Anna.”
The older officer stepped forward.
“I remember Anna. And I remember that Halloween party.”
Mr. Harrison stiffened.
“Then you should remember what happened to her.”
“I remember an argument,” the officer replied. “I was helping with the decorations that night. I didn’t hear everything.”
Mr. Harrison looked disappointed.
