"Misses Harrison, is there anything your husband mentioned over the past six months regarding a Veteran's Center, or VSN Center? Did he suffer from PTSD, or did somebody he cared about take his life because of it?"
The well-dressed woman in her early forties sitting across from him exuded the sense of tight-knit family, a loving couple blessed with two beautiful children in a roomy apartment filled with professional photos and personalized keepsakes.
There was absolutely nothing here that gave Ryan any sort of indication as to what Harrison had been up to in the past six months, every crevice of the clean, well-lit place perfect, downright harmonic.
Understandably, Theresa Harrison was visibly distraught by her husband's death, the dining room table filled with cards and mementos of the Lieutenant's life, her answering machine showing 32 missed calls, the entrance area looking well-visited over the course of the previous few hours.
Like every time a police officer paid the ultimate sacrifice, friends and family had decorated every light and power pole in the area with blue ribbons and bows, a final salute to honor Harrison's life and devotion to public service.
Admittingly so, Ryan felt his throat tighten at the sight, knowing that they had all taken that very same oath, willing to risk it all despite the lighthearted atmosphere that so often could be found in the bullpen, the outward denial that every call they answered might be their last.
And while they all had an impressive track record when it came to being outrageously lucky throughout the years, he couldn't even begin to imagine the pain he'd feel if one of their own-
"There was nothing out of the ordinary.", Theresa replied, her grief-stricken voice pulling him out of his somber thoughts, "He didn't say anything about having trouble or somebody close to him dying. He was his usual happy self."
Ryan nodded, then leaned back against the comfortable couch, taking in his witnesses' body language but not finding any signs of lying.
"Pardon me for asking this question, Misses Harrison, but what about his finances? Has there been any financial trouble?"
Much to his surprise, the woman initially shook her head, then shrugged.
"What is it, Misses Harrison?"
"Well, I didn't think anything of it. A few months…well…six months ago, Don had mentioned that he wanted to pay off the car and some of our outstanding bills, making us debt-free in time for the kids to go to college, so he asked me to take some money out of my savings account. He was handling all the bills for the family, so I didn't think anything of it. Why?"
Cringing under the burden of evidence that was about to put Donald Harrison's honesty in question, Ryan swallowed hard.
"We don't know yet. I did find out that your husband was withdrawing $2,000.00 in cash from your joint checking account every other week for the past six months. Do you have any idea what he could have used that money for? Did you usually pay cash for groceries and restaurants?"
"No, never. Don hated having cash on him…", she replied nervously, her eyes widening, "What did he do with all our money? You don't think…you don't think he was into anything illegal and that's what got him killed?"
"It's too soon to tell, Misses Harrison.", he replied, trying to sound reassuring, but failing to wipe that suspicious expression off her face.
"Don was a good man; he spent his entire life serving the public. I…I can't begin to imagine him keeping money from me. There has to be a mistake."
With a final nod, Ryan stood back up, ready to move on when he faced the widow one last time.
"I hope so too, Misses Harrison."
