"No problem. It's natural."

"I know he's gone, but I can't say it yet. Is that okay? I guess I'm not making much sense, period."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come back later?"

She shook her head. "The doctor said I should talk about it. Really, I'm all right. It's just such...such a shock. One day every­thing is...like every other day and then...nothing will ever be the same...forever." She rose and crossed to the railing of the deck. "Do you think I should go down there? To Norfolk? I just don't know. I don't know what to do."

"I think you should stay here. At least in Parkside you're around friends." Then he added hesitantly, "The paper said the current on the bay is strong. It might be a number of days before they find him." He stopped when he saw her begin to shudder.

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"Mostly, I'm scared. I'm scared to death they'll find him and I'm scared to death they won't." She took a deep breath and plopped down of the sofa. "Please, I know you have questions and here I am babbling away taking up your time."

"I'm sorry if some of the questions may sound...distasteful. They're just things we have to ask." She nodded and insisted he continue.

Dean started slowly and she answered in a straightforward manner, her voice becoming stronger as she proceeded. Jeffrey Byrne had telephoned home in early evening, his usual practice when he was traveling on business trips. The call came between

7:00 and 7:30 and there had been nothing unusual about it. Jeffrey Byrne asked about Randy's ball game and inquired about the mail. His drive to Virginia had been uneventful and he promised to bring back some fresh crabmeat when he returned. He would leave the next day, after taking care of some business.

When the police appeared at the door the next day, she was sure something had happened to her son, not her husband. Later she received a telephone call from the Norfolk Police Department, but it only confirmed what Officer McCarthy had already told her. She was too upset to remember much of what was said and she'd not spoken directly with Norfolk since that first call. Phil Riley, Janice's husband, telephoned Virginia several times but there was no additional news. They were simply "doing their best."

She closed her eyes, remembering. "Little things keep pop­ping into mind-like Jeff won't be here for Randy's graduation, or he'll miss a neighbor's surprise party, or we'll never get to the Top of the Mark." Dean's eyes questioned and Mrs. Byrne clarified, "The Mark Hopkins Hotel, in San Francisco-it was our little joke. Neither of us had ever traveled further west than Ohio but when we were old and retired, we were going there and drink man­hattans at sunset. As if we could afford to. When things were going badly, we'd say, 'Think of manhattans at the Mark.'"




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