Page 49 of Our Daughter's Bones

She nodded faintly. The service had ended.

“You okay?” Nick said as they made their way out of the church.

“I’m fine.”

“I won’t judge you if you want a smoke,” he offered with a disheartened smile.

She paused in her tracks. The memory of standing behind the church five years ago flashed in her mind. She remembered her jumping heart and her back pressing against the cool concrete. All she could think about was that she was burying the only person who’d been a good parent to her. She’d needed a moment away from the noise.

Then a hand had appeared in front of her face, holding out a cigarette. She’d sucked on it in a desperate attempt to calm her nerves, while Nick watched her silently. No tears were shed. No words were spoken. It was the first and the last time she’d touched a cigarette. After some time, she’d gone back inside, loathing the rancid taste in her mouth. And neither of them ever mentioned her moment of weakness again. Until now.

“No, thanks.”

A lazy roll of thunder rumbled. The plush greenery outside the church glistened. Bunches of poppy flowers were planted around the walls. The pebbled path from the double door entrance of the church led to the main street, where a black SUV was parked.

Daniel sat on the hood drinking coffee, looking at the thick spread of trees around the church.

A bolt of lightning ripped open the sky, and water poured down—heavy and uninhibited. Mackenzie opened her umbrella, as did Nick. It was second nature to carry one in Washington. Daniel scowled at his drenched suit and coffee cup.

She sprinted toward him. “A rookie mistake.”

“What?” he asked.

She raised her voice over the sound of the rain splashing against the car. “I said it’s a rookie mistake—not to carry an umbrella!”

“I’ll keep that in mind!” he replied.

She moved closer and offered him cover.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it, I made the very same mistake a few days ago. You didn’t come inside.”

He pressed his lips in a thin line. The corners of his eyes crumpled as he idly stared at the church. “I don’t really believe in these things.”

“Funerals?”

“Churches. You believe in all this?”

She fell silent. He watched her with a slight tilt to his head, as if he wouldn’t take her answer for granted.

“I believe in being polite.”

“So, no.”

“Who did you lose?”

“Too many. Why did you come back to Lakemore? I heard you were in NYC.”

“It’s home.”

Only someone foolish or someone twisted returns to the scene of the crime!Sully’s words from years ago repeated in her mind.

“You don’t look like you belong here.” She followed his eyes to her expensive shoes, caked in wet mud.

She suppressed her grimace to make a point. “I believe in good deeds.”

“My tactical instructor at Quantico always said that the difference between a good officer and a brilliant officer isn’t righteousness. It’s penance. Everyone who decides to serve the public has some sense of righteousness. But it’s penance that gives some the obsession they need to be more.”