Page 645 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Mostly I knew of him. He did visit me once.”

Sydney’s throat went dry and she took a gulp of water and swallowed hard. Don’t probe too hard, she told herself. If she appeared too anxious, Mrs. Phillips might clam up.

“Mr. McClain seemed like a nice man. He visited me right after Buford died. I don’t think he believed what I told him about Buford though.”

“What was that?” The question came out in a half croak.

“I told him the truth. He asked me if Buford had been drinking, and I told him Buford quit drinking when he started goin’ to church.”

“What else? Do you remember anything else?”

Mrs. Phillips munched on her cookie and took a sip of lemonade. “Now, Sydney, tell me again. What exactly do you do at the sawmill?”

Sydney could have screamed, but she kept her face blank. “I’m the safety consultant. It’s my job to investigate accidents at the mill.”

Mrs. Phillips nodded. “But this accident happened years ago. Why are you worrying ‘bout it now?”

Sydney realized that Mrs. Phillips was a lot more perceptive than she looked. “I’m trying to establish an accident trend so we can prevent future accidents.”

“I see.” Mrs. Phillips placed her glass on the table. Sydney hoped that her explanation had sounded convincing.

“Whereabouts are you from in Texas?”

“Ft. Worth.”

“I have a cousin that lives in Arlington. He and his family moved there ‘bout five years ago. They say it’s a dust bowl in the summertime.”

Sydney scooted to the edge of the couch. She had to figure out a way to get the conversation back on track. Before she could think of anything to say, Mrs. Phillips asked her another question.“How long did you say you’ve been a member of the church?”

“About a year.”

“How long have you lived in Stoney Creek?”

“About three months.”

“Well, yesterday was the first time I saw you at church.”

“I’ve been really busy.” She knew her response did little to placate the woman and feared that the next words out of Mrs. Phillips mouth would be a stern lecture on the importance of attending her church meetings. Her thoughts must’ve shown on her face because Mrs. Phillips chuckled. Sydney glanced at her watch. “Mrs. Phillips, I have to get back to work. If you don’t mind, I need to ask you a couple more questions.”

The smile faded from Mrs. Phillips face.

“Are you telling me that Buford was a member of the church?” Mrs. Phillips nodded. Something wasn’t adding up. “Members of our church don’t drink.”

Mrs. Phillips slapped her knee the way a teacher would when the student finally got the point. “Exactly!”

“Did he tell you anything that was going on at the mill?”

Sydney could see the wariness in Mrs. Phillips’ eyes before she finally spoke. “I asked him about it once or twice, but Buford kept things inside. I always tried to give him his space. You know what I mean?”

Sydney nodded. The disappointment was so tangible she could taste it. The woman had to know something. But whatever it was, she wasn’t telling—at least not today. Another questionwas forming in the back of Sydney’s mind. It was about the light in Mrs. Phillips’ eyes. She had to know the source of that light. Somehow the words forced their way to her lips. “How did you get through it? How did you pick up and go on after your husband’s death?”

Silence settled between them and Mrs. Phillips pondered the question. “It wasn’t easy. I guess I could come up with some pie crust answer. But the truth is that it’s still hard sometimes, even after all this time.” Moisture formed behind her glasses.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked such a personal question.”

Mrs. Phillips brushed aside the apology and went on as if Sydney hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know how I made it through the first few weeks after he died. Everything was black. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t break out of it. After about two months, things got real bad. I had so much anger boiled up inside that I felt like I was gonna fly off the handle. I knew I needed help. One Sunday I put on my best dress and hat and marched right down there to that church. You see, I weren’t a member then. Buford had tried to talk to me about them things he learnt, but I wouldn’t have no part of it.”

Sydney nodded. “I can understand that.”

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