She doubted it. “I was distraught. My son went off to the Marines. My
only
son. My husband, the love of my life, is dead. Dead! I hadn’t meant to hit that sign. Maybe I was driving too fast; I don’t know. But I wasn’t and am not suicidal.”
What seemed like genuine compassion glinted in his eyes as he leaned forward and placed his thick hand on her shaking arm. “You’ve been through a lot, Kyra. I want to help.”
She pulled away. “Then let me go home.”
He sighed. “I know you want that. I believe that your accident was unintentional and you probably would not kill yourself.”
She tilted her head back in relief. “Thank You, Jesus.” She looked at him. “So I can go?”
He shook his head. “Regretfully, no.”
“Why not?”
He searched her face for an uncomfortably long time. “Because we still have one problem.”
She crossed her arms. “What’s that?”
“Your late husband is downstairs demanding to see you.”