Page 44 of Little Stolen Memories

I nodded, and we walked to the kitchen. Cora removed a couple of glasses from the cabinet and poured a pinot noir into each.

I slid onto a barstool, and Cora set a glass in front of me and said, “I’m sorry for making everyone worry. I had no idea leaving the house would cause so many problems.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re safe. Nothing else matters.”

“I didn’t realize how much trouble it would cause if I didn’t tell you my plans. I was focused on how much I needed a moment to myself. I promise not to leave the house again without taking my cell phone with me.”

“How are you feeling about the note left on your car?”

“When Chief Foley mentioned it after I got home, part of me wanted to leave. The other part of me is tired of running from my past. If I run, the killer wins, again. He doesn’t get to win … not this time.”

Cora was taking a stand.

I was impressed.

“I heard you talking to Whitlock earlier,” I said. “But I only caught bits and pieces of the conversation. I have so many questions.”

“Ask me anything.”

“Why did you leave?”

Cora took a sip of her wine and said, “I was in my room earlier, looking through the yearbook again. I came across a photo of the six of us, and I started to feel overwhelmed.”

“Is that why you decided to leave the house?”

“Yeah, I needed to clear my head and get away from it all for a minute. Between the new investigation and my father’s illness, it’s been a lot to take in, you know?”

“I do. Why did you leave your phone behind?”

“I wanted to be alone with my thoughts. When I left, I didn’t plan on being gone long. I lost track of time.”

“Do you feel better now?”

Cora nodded. “A lot better. As I walked through the neighborhood, I realized how much I’ve missed this town. Sure, it holds a lot of bad memories, but it also holds some of my best ones too.”

“Where did you go?”

“There’s a park about a mile from here. When Owen was alive, we’d walk over to it sometimes to hang out, catch up on things. I always thought of the park as ‘our place,’ and I realized I hadn’t been back there since he died.”

“How did it feel to be there again?”

“A lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. Before I left the house, I started thinking about a place I could go where I knew I’d feel a sense of peace. I was looking at a photo of Owen, and I wished I could talk to him again. A memory came back about a time we were at the park together, and I realized it was the one place I connected to him most.”

“Did you feel connected to him when you were there just now?”

“In a way … I, I’m sure you’ll think I’m crazy for admitting this, but I talked to him tonight. I sat on the same park bench we used to sit on together, and I spoke to him as though he was sitting right next to me.”

“I don’t think it sounds crazy at all,” I said. “You miss him in the same way I miss my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?”

“I had a daughter. She died when she was a toddler, and we buried her next to my father. I visit their graves every week, and I talk to them both.”

Cora took another sip of wine and said, “What do you think happens after we die? Do you think the spirits of those we love are still around, watching over us and what becomes of our lives?”

“I want to believe they are. If not all the time, when we need them most. I believe we’re all connected—the living and the dead.”

“Can I confess something to you?”

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