Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Nearly Six Years Ago—January—Four Months after Bree’s Death

AJ walked to the front door after a twenty-four-hour shift at the fire station. She’d slept all of three hours when a three-alarm warehouse fire woke her at two in the morning. She needed sleep, but the adrenaline was still running too hot.

Logan’s bike in the carport told her he’d gotten home from his overnight shift too.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Logan?” She needed a hug even more than sleep.

Logan sat slumped over the end of the kitchen table, tumbler glass in his hand, a bottle of whiskey nearby.

She called his name again.

He lifted his head. “Hey.”

She ditched her coat and shoes and walked to him. “Rough night?”

“It was a night.”

“What’s with the whiskey then?”

“Just needed a glass.” He stood and shifted away from her.

He had hardly touched her in two months.

Setting his glass in the sink, he turned toward the hallway.

She reached out to him. “Logan.”

He stopped and looked at her. “I’m headed to bed. I’m tired.” He walked away.

How could he not see she needed him? She hated having to chase him down for any affection or comfort. Sure, he was hurting, but so was she. They needed to walk through this together.

She followed him. “I need you.”

He stopped but didn’t turn. “I have nothing to give. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“You. I need you. Nothing more. You don’t need to give me anything except an iota of your attention.”

His shoulders sagged. “I’m exhausted.”

She let him get ready for bed, and she did the same.

They were both exhausted. And not from working nights. They were empty casings. Grief had stripped them of themselves, of joy, of true rest. And of sleep. AJ didn’t remember the last time she’d slept through the night. She could sleep for twelve hours but never straight through. Too many times she woke up thinking she heard Bree crying for her from across the hall. But Bree wasn’t there. Never would be again.

AJ crawled into bed beside Logan. He laid on his back and let her snuggle up against him, but he didn’t wrap his arm around her and hold her like he used to.

Hot tears poured out of her eyes and soaked his shirt, but he said nothing and didn’t move. Once again, she cried herself to sleep.

Present Day

After leaving the cemetery, Logan bought food for dinner, including some broccoli, before heading home. As he rode, he tried to sort out his feelings about being at the gravesite with AJ today, but his emotions were still all discombobulated. It had been cathartic to cry. He was man enough to admit it, at least to himself. He hadn’t cried like that since he’d held Bree’s lifeless body against his chest—once everyone forced him to face the fact she was gone. Maybe bottling up his emotions for so long hadn’t been wise.

But hearing AJ’s words had not only uncorked it but busted the bottle open. It was going to take a while to process and let the words sink in. Was he really not at fault for Bree’s death?

AJ’s voice repeated in his head. “It was an accident.”

He pulled into the driveway and parked his motorcycle in the carport.

His trash can and recycle bin caught his eye. Maybe he shouldn’t keep those in the carport with all the crazy fires those teens had been starting. For whatever reason, it was clear they were targeting law enforcement. He didn’t want his house to be the next casualty.

He rolled them onto the driveway, clear of the carport and a nearby tree. Good thing he wasn’t in an HOA, but even if he was, he wouldn’t care.

A car slowed in front of his house. The window rolled down and Miles waved. “Hey, Logan. How’s it going?”

“Not horribly.” He walked to the vehicle and leaned his forearms on the door. “Still driving the rental? Any hope for your car after the accident?”

“Unfortunately, it’s needed more repairs than they thought. Had to order something I guess.”

“I’m surprised the insurance didn’t total it and give you the cash to get a new one.”

“It was close. I really like that car though. Oh well.” Miles shrugged. “You got big plans for this Thursday evening?”

“A date with a bottle of whiskey.”

Miles laughed. “My kind of night. Let me know if you ever want a drinking buddy.”

It was Logan’s turn to laugh. “I was about to throw some brats on the grill. Want dinner?”

“That sounds great. You sure you want the company?”

“Beats hanging out by myself.” Logan patted Miles’s car and moved out of the way so his friend could park in the driveway.

Logan grabbed the bag of groceries from his motorcycle and welcomed Miles into his home.

“Glass of whiskey?” Logan asked.

“That’d be great.”

Logan dug two glasses and the bottle of alcohol out of the back of the cabinet.

“Who are you scared will find that?”

“I’m not sure I’d hear the end of it from Will. He’s always afraid I’m going to go off the deep end.” Like he nearly had after losing Bree and then again after losing AJ.

“He’s a good friend. You two have stayed close since we were kids, huh?”

Logan nodded. “You keep in touch with anyone from high school?”

“Not really,” Miles said. “Ran into Kristen not that long ago. She’s married with three kids.”

Once Logan had the brats ready, the men went out back and chatted about work and sports while getting the grill fired up. While they cooked, Logan ran in to use the restroom. When he came back out, Miles was watching a video on his phone.

“Hey, Logan, look at this video. Isn’t that Will’s house?”

He walked over, and Miles handed his phone to Logan.

The video showed two teenagers setting a fire in Will’s trash can. “It is. Can you send this to me?”

“Are you on social media?” Miles asked.

“Not really. Just text me the link if you can.”

“Sure. Looks like this is a social-media dare. There’s a hashtag.” Miles clicked on the hashtag, and it took them to a list of videos from all over the country of teens setting trash cans on fire.

“That’s Amelia’s house.”

“Whose?”

“One of the detectives. We caught that kid. Didn’t know he recorded himself. That won’t help his court case.”

“I’ll send you that one too,” Miles said.

“Thanks, man. We’ve got to put a stop to this. Someone is going to end up hurt.”

“It’s amazing no one has been yet.”

Logan nodded. He got the brats off the grill, then brought the bottle of whiskey out with the broccoli and condiments. They ate on the back deck and drank a few more glasses. Probably too many. Logan did anyway.

He stopped when he realized he was going to start talking about AJ. The whole point of drinking was to numb himself, not to loosen his tongue.

Miles must have caught the drift. “I really should head out now. Mind if I leave my car? You may have served me a bit too much to be safe behind the wheel.”

“Probably shouldn’t drive home from a cop’s house inebriated.”

“The fact that you can pull that word up after so much to drink is something.”

“Eh, I use that word at least once a week at work.”

“Ha. Well, I’m out. Thanks for dinner.”

Logan showed him out the front door then collapsed on the couch. He needed to find out which detective was on the trash-can-fires case.

He called Adam’s number.

“Jamison.”

“Hey, it’s Logan. I found some very interesting information this evening regarding the trash-can fires.”

“Are you home?”

“I am.”

“I’ll swing by. I’m out walking Rusty. As long as you don’t mind the dog.”

“Not at all.”

“I’m only a block away.” Adam and his wife, Ella, lived about a mile from Logan.

They hung up, and Adam was knocking before Logan even made it to the door.

Adam shook his hand, and Logan invited him and the dog in. The men sat on the couch, and Logan gave the golden retriever a good rub-down.

Logan showed Adam the videos and sent him the links. They chatted about the case for a few minutes.

Adam said, “I’ll pass these on. Can’t believe it’s a stupid social-media dare. I will never understand why teens do these things when they should know better.”

“We were all young and dumb once.”

“Speaking of which ...” Adam ran his palms on his pant legs. “You’ve been drinking.”

Logan slumped back against the couch. “I had a friend over. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing on the anniversary of your daughter’s death.”

That one hit square in the heart.

“At least I wasn’t drinking by myself.”

“Which is what you would have done if your friend hadn’t come by?”

Logan nodded.

“Man, it’s not worth it. And I know you know that. I’ve been down that road, especially when the woman you love, that isn’t quite yours anymore, is in danger.”

Logan nodded again. He knew Adam’s story.

“Now, I suggest you run that bottle down the drain before my wife finds it.”

Logan chuckled. “Ella poured yours out?”

“Yep. And I haven’t had a drop since. You have to lean on Christ in the midst of the hard stuff. The bottle isn’t actually numbing anything except your ability to hear His voice. Don’t let that happen. Take it to Him. He can handle it.”

Why did everyone have to butt in? He appreciated Adam’s advice, and he knew he was right, but it wasn’t as easy as Adam made it sound.

He nodded, wanting Adam to think he was letting it soak in. In one sense he was, but it felt like Adam had taken a meat tenderizer to his tough heart.

Adam stood. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m just down the street. Seriously, even if it’s simply to sit on the back deck and toss a ball with Rusty here instead of drinking. Got it?”

“Will do. Thank you.” He shook Adam’s hand and gave Rusty another rub.

They left and Logan turned back to the kitchen table. He contemplated the bottle. He’d already had too much, but he wasn’t ready to pour it down the drain.

After putting the whiskey away in the cabinet, he went to the hallway and stopped in front of Bree’s closed door. He’d kept her room like it had been. He went in and cleaned it regularly, but he couldn’t remove any of the things without AJ. It wouldn’t be right.

He opened the door and let the light from the hall be enough. He walked in and picked up her stuffed hippo from the bed, then sat down.

Adam was right. The alcohol didn’t affect the emotions Logan had hoped to kill.

“I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m sorry I keep trying to smother the feeling of missing you.”