Page 16 of Taken from Her (Phoenix Ridge Police Department #4)

T he afternoon light streaming through the café windows felt warmer today, as if the weather, too, felt the shift between them.

Lavender arranged chairs in a large circle, her hands moving through familiar motions while her mind drifted to this morning's goodbye kiss and the way Diana’s lips lingered on hers.

She caught herself touching her mouth and quickly reached for the stack of handouts instead.

Community safety strategies, resource lists, and emergency protocols—all the practical measures that would help people feel more secure while their community was still threatened.

The aromatherapy diffuser released a gentle eucalyptus scent into the air, a conscious choice to counteract the tension that had been building in her community for weeks.

Saffron supervised from his perch on the counter, green eyes tracking her movements with feline curiosity. Basil wove between her legs as she moved between tables, both cats sensing the restless energy she was trying to channel into productive preparation.

Lavender typed back carefully: Looking forward to our collaboration.

The words felt absurdly formal given that twelve hours ago they'd been tangled in her sheets, Diana's careful control dissolving into desperate need.

But tonight would be different. Tonight, they would have to navigate the space between personal connection and professional cooperation, all while her community watched.

The café door chimed, and Georgia Darricott entered with her silver hair perfectly arranged and sharp gaze that missed nothing. Lavender's stomach fluttered. If anyone would notice the change in her energy, it would be Georgia.

"Early setup today," Georgia observed, settling into her usual armchair with the authority of someone who'd claimed the best vantage point in every room she'd ever entered.

"I figured people might need extra time to process," Lavender replied, adjusting the flip chart paper for the third time. Her hands felt unsteady, hyperaware of every gesture under Georgia's evaluating stare.

"Mmm." Georgia's eyes swept the room, taking in the carefully arranged materials, the way Lavender had positioned chairs to encourage both intimate conversation and larger group dynamics. "You seem different this afternoon. Good different."

Heat rose in Lavender's cheeks. "Just focused on making tonight productive."

"Of course." Georgia's smile was knowing.

"Though I suspect tonight will be interesting for reasons beyond community safety.

" She paused. "You know," Georgia said, her voice gentle but pointed, "transparency has always been one of your strengths.

But some things need time to develop before they're ready for community scrutiny. "

Lavender looked up from her phone, meeting Georgia's understanding gaze. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Georgia stood, moving toward the memorial corner where photos of Tara, Isabel, and Joanna watched over the space.

"I've been watching this community for seventy years, dear.

I've seen how personal happiness can enhance leadership, and I've seen how trying to hide it can create unnecessary complications. "

"Georgia—"

"Whatever's put that glow in your cheeks and steadied your shoulders, nurture it." Georgia's voice carried decades of wisdom. "This community needs you strong and centered, not torn between responsibility and joy."

Lavender felt something loosen in her chest. Georgia wasn't warning her away from personal connection; she was encouraging its integration.

"It's complicated," Lavender admitted.

"The best things usually are." Georgia moved toward the door as other community members began arriving. "But Lavender? Trust your instincts. They've never steered you wrong."

As the afternoon progressed, Lavender found herself stealing glances at the clock.

Now with the workshop materials organized, seating arranged, and refreshments prepared, everything was ready except her own emotional equilibrium.

In two hours, Diana would walk through that purple door, and Lavender would have to facilitate meaningful community discussion while her heart raced at the memory of Diana's touch.

She lit candles around the memorial corner, the small ritual helping center her scattered thoughts. Tonight would test everything: her leadership, their new relationship, and her ability to serve her community while honoring the connection that was already changing how she moved through the world.

Outside, Phoenix Ridge settled into evening, harbor lights beginning to twinkle as darkness approached. Soon, the café would fill with voices seeking safety and connection, and Lavender would have to prove that personal happiness could support rather than compromise her service to them.

She touched her lips once more before she straightened her shoulders.

By six o’clock, the cafe hummed with quiet conversation.

Corinne sat near the window, the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced in the evening light.

Three weeks without Joanna had aged her in ways that made Lavender’s chest ache.

Elle and Hazel claimed the couch by the back wall, their heads bent together over their phones, probably coordinating the buddy system they’d been developing since the disappearances started.

Sam looked up from her tablet when Lavender approached with coffee. “Any word from the police today?”

“Chief Marten should have updates when she arrives,” Lavender said, proud of how steady her voice sounded.

“She’s really coming?” Racquel twisted in her chair. “Last week she seemed…”

“Stiff,” Jordan finished. “Like she was reading from a script.”

Lavender refilled their cups, hyperaware of the clock on the wall. Five minutes past six. Diana was never late.

The purple door opened.

Conversations didn’t exactly stop, but they shifted—voices dropping and attention turning toward the woman in the pressed uniform who stepped inside like she was crossing into foreign territory.

Diana paused in the doorway, her dark eyes sweeping the room with that careful assessment Lavender had now seen a dozen times.

But today, when Diana’s gaze found hers across the space, something passed between them that had nothing to do with police work.

“Evening, everyone.” Diana’s voice carried its usual authority, but there was something softer underneath. “Thank you for including me tonight.”

Elle nudged Hazel and whispered, “She sounds different.”

She did sound different. Less like she was delivering a briefing, more like she actually wanted to be here. Lavender felt her pulse kick up as Diana moved toward the counter, weaving between chairs with careful grace.

“Coffee,” Lavender asked, grateful for something to do with her hands.

“Please.” Diana’s smile was brief but genuine. “It’s been a long day.”

Their fingers brushed when Lavender handed over the mug, a handmade ceramic that was part of the set from a local artist. Diana’s eyes widened slightly at the contact, and Lavender had to look away before someone noticed the flush creeping up her neck.

“Everyone,” Lavender called, settling into her usual facilitation mode. “Let’s get started.”

Diana found a seat in the circle, not at the head where authority figures usually positioned themselves, but integrated with the group like she actually belonged there. Corinne studied her with cautious interest. Sam set down her tablet. Even Georgia looked approvingly from her strategic corner.

“Before we dive into safety strategies,” Lavender began, “I want to acknowledge what we’re all feeling. Three women we care about are still missing. That fear is real, and it’s valid.”

Nods around the circle. Corinne’s jaw tightened.

“But we’re also not helpless,” Lavender continued. “Tonight is about practical steps we can take to protect each other and improve communication with—” She caught herself before she said “the police” like they were some distant entity. “With Chief Marten and her team.”

Diana straightened slightly. “I appreciate being here. Formal interviews only capture so much. This…” She gestured around the circle. “This is where real information lives.”

The admission surprised everyone, including Lavender. Three weeks ago, Diana would’ve never acknowledged the limitations of official procedures.

“What kind of information?” Elle asked.

Diana seemed to consider the question seriously. “The things people notice but don’t think to report. Changes in routine, unusual behavior, feeling watched. Community members often observe patterns that don’t show up in case files.”

Racquel leaned forward. “You mean like how Isabel started sitting by the door instead of her usual window table?”

“Exactly.” Diana pulled out a notebook—not the intimidating official kind, but something smaller, more personal. “When did you notice that change?”

“Two weeks before she disappeared. Maybe three.” Racquel glanced around the circle. “I mentioned it to Jordan, but we figured she was just being paranoid after what had happened to Tara.”

“Not paranoid,” Diana said firmly. “Adaptive. All three women changed their routines in the weeks before they vanished. That’s not a coincidence.”

Lavender watched the group’s energy shift. This wasn’t the distant, procedural Chief Marten they’d dealt with before. This was someone who actually listened and treated their observations like valuable intelligence instead of irrelevant gossip.

“So whoever took them was watching long enough to learn their patterns,” Sam said.

“And their changes,” Diana confirmed. “Which suggests someone with intimate knowledge of how this community responds to threats.”

The room went quiet. Lavender felt everyone processing the implications. This wasn’t a stranger hunting randomly, but someone who understood them well enough to use their own protective instincts against them.

Corinne’s voice cut through the science. “You think it’s someone we know.”