Marlowe
"I suppose there's no harm in it," Carol said finally, her voice carrying reluctant permission. "He's been gone eight years. Whatever secrets that notebook holds, I don't imagine they can hurt him any further at this point."
I arranged to visit her directly, understanding this particular piece of the puzzle deserved an in-person conversation rather than anything conducted over distance and static, and King insisted on coming with me despite my own instinct to handle this leg of the journey alone.
"You shouldn't drive that far by yourself, processing whatever you might find," he said, simple and firm. "Whatever you decide about how involved I get in the actual conversation, I'm coming."
I appreciated his presence more than I let on, and we made the several-hour drive together in
