“Is that why you wore your father’s coat the night you killed Dolly?”
“It happened to be in the car. I was cold.” She shivered with the memory. “It isn’t true that I wanted him to be blamed. I loved my father. But he didn’t love me.”
“He loved you to the point of death, Harriet.”
She shook her head, and began to shiver more violently. I put my arm around her shoulders and walked her toward the door. It opened, filling with the red sunset. The beggar woman appeared in it, black as a cinder in the blaze.
“What will happen now?” Harriet said with her head down.
“It depends on whether you’re willing to waive extradition. We can go back together, if you are.”
“I might as well.”
The beggar held out her hands to us as we passed. I gave her money again. I had nothing to give Harriet. We went out into the changing light and started to walk up the dry riverbed of the road.
The Zebra-Striped Hearse Page 28