Bell left Van Dorn and walked across the dock to the parked car. The blue metallic paint of the 1950 Custom Super 8 convertible Packard gleamed under the dock lights. Although the night air was chilly, the top was down.
A woman was sitting in the driver’s seat wearing a stylish hat over hair that was tinted to its original blond. She gazed at him approaching with eyes that were as coral–sea green as when Bell met her. The mirth lines around her eyes were the lines of someone who laughed easily, and the features of her face showed the signs of an enduring beauty.
Bell opened the door and slipped into the seat beside her. She leaned over and kissed him firmly on the lips, pulled back, and gave him a sly smile. “About time you came back.”
“It was a hard day,” he said with a long sigh.
Marion turned the ignition and started the car. “You found what you were looking for?”
“Jacob and Margaret and the money, all there.”
Marion looked out across the black water of the lake. “I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I can’t bring myself to feel grief, not knowing about their hideous crimes.”
Bell did not wish to dwell on the Cromwells any longer and changed the subject. “You talk to the kids?”
Marion stepped on the accelerator pedal and steered the car away from the dock toward the main road. “All four this afternoon. Soon as we get home, they’re throwing us an anniversary party.”
He patted her on the knee. “You in the mood for driving all night?”
She smiled and kissed his hand. “The sooner we get home, the better.”
They went silent for a time, lost in their thoughts of events long gone. The curtain to the past had come down. Neither of them turned and looked back at the train.
