Was it possible Ted Brehl was the last person to see Jan Harwood? Not counting David Harwood, of course. Duckworth was becoming increasingly convinced that David Harwood was the last person to see his wife alive.

And he was getting a gut feeling no one else ever would.

Arlene Harwood tried to keep busy. Her husband, who could sometimes get underfoot and be-let’s be honest here-a real pain in the ass when he started telling her how to do things, was entertaining Ethan. That was good. Don had gone into the garage and found an old croquet set, and with Ethan’s help had set it up in the backyard. But Ethan quickly adopted a playing style that had little to do with hitting the wooden balls through the hoops. Just whacking the balls in any old direction kept him occupied, and Don quickly abandoned plans to teach his grandson the game’s finer points.

Arlene, meanwhile, went from one activity to another. She did some dishes, she ironed, she paid some bills online, she tried to read the paper, she flipped through the TV channels. The one thing she did not do, at least not for more than a minute or so, was use the phone. She didn’t want to tie up the line. David might call. Maybe the police.

Maybe Jan.

When she wasn’t feeling desperately worried for her daughter-in-law, she was thinking about her son and grandson. What if something had happened to Jan? How would David deal with it? How would Ethan deal with losing a mother?

She didn’t want to let her mind go there. She wanted to think positively, but she’d always been a realist. Might as well prepare yourself for the worst, and if things turned out better than you’d expected, well, that was a bonus.

She racked her brain trying to figure out where Jan might have gone, what might have happened to her. The thing was, she’d always had a feeling that she’d never shared with her son or her husband. She certainly couldn’t tell Don-he’d never be able to keep his mouth shut about how she felt. But there was something about Jan that wasn’t quite right.

Arlene Harwood couldn’t say what it was. It might have had something to do with how Jan handled men, and didn’t handle women. David had fallen for her hard soon after he met her while doing a story for the Standard on people looking for jobs at the city employment office. Jan was new to town, looking for work, and David tried to coax some quotes out of her. But Jan was reserved, didn’t want her name in the paper or to be part of the piece.

Something about her touched David. She seemed, he once disclosed to his mother, “adrift.”

Although she wouldn’t be interviewed for the piece, she did disclose, after some persistent questioning from David, that she lived alone, didn’t have anyone in her life, and had no family here.

David had once said if it hadn’t been so corny, he would have asked her how a woman as beautiful as Jan could be so alone. Arlene Harwood had thought it a question worth asking.

When David finished interviewing other, more willing subjects at the employment office, he spotted Jan outside waiting for a bus. He offered her a lift, and after some hesitation, she accepted. She had rented a room over a pool hall.

“That’s really-I mean, it’s none of my business,” David said, “but that’s not really a good place for you to live.”

“It’s all I can afford at the moment,” she said. “When I get a job, I’ll find something better.”

“What are you paying?” he asked.

Jan’s eyes widened. “You’re right, it’s none of your business.”

“Tell me,” he said.

She did.

David went back to the paper to write his story. After he’d filed it, he made a call to a woman he knew in Classified. “You got any rentals going in tomorrow I can get a jump on? I know someone looking for a place. Let me give you the price range.”

She emailed him copies of four listings. On the way home, he parked across from the pool hall, went upstairs and down a hallway, knocking on doors until he found Jan.

He handed her the list he’d printed out. “These won’t be in the paper until tomorrow. At least three of these are in way better parts of town than this, and they’re the same as what you’re paying now.” He tried to peer past her into her room. “Doesn’t look like you’d have that much to pack.”

“Who the hell are you?” Jan asked him.

That weekend, he helped her move.

Someone new to rescue, his mother thought, after Samantha Henry made it clear she could manage on her own, thank you very much.

It was a short courtship. (Arlene grimaced to herself; there was a word nobody used anymore. “Courtship.” Just how old was she, anyway?) But damn it all, things did move fast.

They were married in a matter of months.

“Why wait?” David said to his mother. “If she’s the right one, she’s the right one. I’ve been spinning my wheels long enough. I’ve already got a house.” It was true. He’d bought it a couple of years ago, having been persuaded by the business editor that only saps paid rent.

“Jan wants to rush into this, too?”

“And remind me how long you knew Dad before you got married?”

“Got you there,” Don said, walking in on the conversation. They’d gone out for five months before eloping.

The thing was, Don had loved Jan from the first time David brought her home. Jan ingratiated herself effortlessly with David’s father, but did she really make the same effort with his mother? Maybe Arlene was imagining it, but it struck her that Jan had a natural way with men. She got them to give her what she wanted without their even realizing it.

No great mystery there, Arlene thought. Jan was unquestionably desirable. She had the whole package. Not a supermodel’s face, maybe, but the full lips and eyes, the pert nose, went together well. Her long legs looked great in everything from a tight skirt to tattered jeans. And she had a way of communicating her sex appeal without it being tarty. No batting of the eyelashes, no baby girl voices. It was just something she gave off, like a scent.

When David first started bringing her around, Don made an absolute fool of himself, always offering to take her coat, freshen her drink, get her another sofa cushion. Arlene finally spoke to him. “For Christ’s sake,” she said one evening after David and Jan went home. “What’s wrong with you? What’s next? You gonna give her a back rub?”

Don, awakened to the fact that he’d gone overboard, managed to tone it down from that point on, but never stopped being entranced by his son’s girlfriend and future wife.

Arlene, however, was immune to that kind of charm. Not that Jan had ever been anything but cordial with her. (“Cordial”? There I go again, Arlene thought.) But Arlene felt the girl knew that what worked with men wouldn’t pass muster with her.

What kind of girl, Arlene wondered, cuts off all ties with her family? Sure, not everyone came from a home as loving as the one she made, but come on. Jan didn’t even let her parents know when Ethan was born. How bad did parents have to be not to let them know they had a grandson?

Jan must have had her reasons, Arlene told herself. But it just didn’t seem right.

The doorbell rang.

Arlene was only steps away from the door at the time, going through the front hall closet, wondering how many years it had been since some of the coats at the ends had been worn, whether it was time to donate some of them to Goodwill. Startled by the sound, she clutched her chest and shouted, “My God!”

She closed the closet so she could see the front door. Through the glass she spotted an overweight man in a suit and loosened tie.

“You scared me half to death,” she said as she opened the door.

“I’m sorry. I’m Detective Duckworth, Promise Falls police. You’re Mrs. Harwood?”

“That’s right.”

“David’s mother?”

“Yes.”

“I’m heading the investigation into your daughter-in-law’s disappearance. I’d like to ask you some questions.”