Tribute

close behind her, and laid her hands on Ford’s shoulders. “No one’s ever shielded me.” She kissed him. “In my whole life, no one ever stood between me and something unpleasant. It’s an amazing feeling. It’s amazing to know I don’t even have to ask if you’ll stay with me while I do this. You can leave your silver armor in the shop. You don’t need it.”
    She took his hand, and walked inside with him to get it done.

Part Three
    FINISH TRIM
    And though home is a name,
a word, it is a strong one;
stronger than magician ever
spoke, or spirit ever answered to,
in the strongest conjuration.
    —CHARLES DICKENS

TWENTY-ONE
    H ow are you feeling?” Wilson asked when she sat on the sofa with Ford, with the dog between them.
    "Oddly enough, lucky.”
    “Have you been checked out by a doctor?”
    “No, it’s bumps and bruises.”
    “It would be helpful to have a doctor’s report, and photographs of your injuries.”
    “I don’t have a local doctor yet. And I’m not—”
    “I’ve got one,” Ford interrupted. "I’ll make a call.”
    “We interviewed Hennessy,” Urick told them. “Took a first pass at him. He doesn’t deny ramming your truck or forcing you off the road. He claims you were harassing his wife.”
    “I went to see her this morning. I forgot,” she said to Ford. “It wasn’t top of my mind after all this. I went to see him, actually, but she said he wasn’t home. We had a conversation, out on her porch. Then I left. I didn’t harass her, or anyone. And if he thinks having a conversation with his wife justifies running me into a ditch, he really is crazy.”
    “What time did you speak with Mrs. Hennessy?”
    “I don’t know. Around nine. I left and did a number of errands. Four or five stops, I guess, between Front Royal and Morrow Village. I saw his van coming from the direction of my farm as I was heading toward it. He saw me, and a minute later he was behind me, coming up fast. He rammed me. I don’t know how many times now. Three or four, at least. I know I was all over the road. I went into a skid, thought I was going to flip. I went into the ditch. I guess the seat belt and air bag kept it from being any worse.”
    “You got out of the truck,” Wilson prompted.
    “That’s right. Supremely pissed. I started yelling at him, he yelled at me. And he shoved me. He shoved me again, and knocked me back into the gate of the truck. He said, ‘I see you in there.’ And he raised his fist. That’s when I kicked him.”
    “What do you think he meant by that? ‘I see you in there’?”
    “My grandmother. He meant he saw my grandmother. And I’d say if he had to hurt me to get to her, that’s what he’d do. He attacked my friend, vandalized my property, and now he’s attacked me.”
    “He hasn’t copped to any of the incidents before this afternoon,” Wilson told her. “He denies the rest.”
    “Do you believe him?”
    “No, but it’s hard to understand why a man who confesses to vehicular assault, reckless endangerment, assault with intent refuses to admit to trespass and vandalism. The fact is, Ms. McGowan, he seemed righteous about what happened today. Not remorseful or afraid of the consequences. If his wife hadn’t gotten a lawyer in there when she did, we might’ve gotten more.”
    “What happens now?”
    “Arraignment, bail hearing. Given his age, his length of time in the community, I’d expect his lawyer to request he be released on his own recognizance. And given the nature of the offense, his proximity to you, I expect the DA will ask for him to be held without bail. I can’t say which way it’ll go, or if it’ll land somewhere between.”
    “His wife swears he didn’t leave the house last night.” Urick picked up the notebook in his lap. “That they left the park right after they saw you, and he stayed in all night. We did, however, pull out of her that he often spends time in their son’s room, locks himself in, sleeps in there. So he could’ve left the house without her knowing about it. We’ll push there, I promise you.”
    Cilla had barely settled herself down after the police left when her father arrived, with Patty and Angie. Even as the anger and emotion level rose toward what she thought might be the unbearable, Ford’s mother sailed in carrying a large Tupperware container and a bouquet of flowers.
    “Don’t you get up, you poor thing. I brought you some of my chicken soup.”
    “Oh, Penny, that’s so thoughtful!”