“Lorraine always said he was alive,” Douglas said quietly. “Right up until she died. I told her she needed to let go.” He looked at the photograph. “She told me I was confusing letting go with giving up.” He looked up at Dellray. “She was right, wasn’t she?”
Ryan’s younger brother Scott, drove up from Columbia. He moved quickly from grief to sharp questions: “Was this a crime? Are they in danger? If Ryan was alive and didn’t call—even when Mom was dying—something was stopping him. Or someone was.” Dellray said nothing to correct him either way.