Page 22 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 itself sensed the shift in Lavender's energy.

She arranged chairs in a large circle, her hands moving through familiar motions while her mind drifted to yesterday's sea cave discovery and the way Diana's careful control had dissolved into desperate need against the stone walls.

Purple and white ribbons transformed the space, the colors chosen to honor the missing women while maintaining hope for their return.

Memorial photos of Tara, Isabel, and Joanna watched over the preparations, surrounded by white roses that filled the air with gentle fragrance.

Lavender positioned each image with deliberate care, remembering how Diana had photographed evidence with the same precise attention.

Her skin still carried memories of salt air and Diana's touch that made her movements more confident, her posture straighter. Even Saffron and Basil seemed to sense the change, weaving between her legs with increased affection as she arranged donation stations and silent auction displays.

"You're glowing," Georgia Darricott observed, settling into her usual armchair. "Good news from yesterday's investigation?"

Heat rose in Lavender's cheeks. "We found important evidence that could be the break in the case we need. A sea cave that connects to all three disappearances."

"Mmm." Georgia's knowing smile suggested she understood more than Lavender was sharing. "And Chief Marten? How is she handling the breakthrough?"

"She’s okay," Lavender replied, adjusting the memorial flowers for the third time. "We work well together."

"I'm sure you do." Georgia's tone carried decades of wisdom. "Some partnerships complement rather than complicate professional responsibilities. The community has noticed the improved cooperation from all sides."

Before Lavender could respond, the purple door opened. Corinne Vernalis entered, dark circles under her eyes more pronounced in the afternoon light but determination evident in her posture.

"How can I help?" Corinne asked, surveying the memorial preparations.

"Just being here helps," Lavender said, embracing her briefly. "Are you still planning to speak?"

"I have to. For Joanna, for the others." Corinne's voice carried quiet strength. "People need to hear what this really means to the families left behind."

More community members arrived as the afternoon progressed.

Samantha Moscroft brought homemade cookies, their sweet aroma mixing with coffee and flowers.

Racquel Norster and Jordan Yatz coordinated volunteer schedules.

Elle Kearsley managed the growing collection of silent auction items: art pieces, restaurant gift certificates, and weekend getaways donated by businesses.

"What’s the expected turnout?" Elle asked, arranging bid sheets beside donated items.

"Sixty, maybe seventy people," Lavender replied. "The whole community's hurting. Tonight's about processing that together."

By five-thirty, the transformation was complete.

Candlelight replaced harsh fluorescents, creating a reverent atmosphere that honored grief while fostering hope.

The community board displayed photos not just of the missing women but of search efforts, volunteer coordination, and mutual support that had emerged from the crisis.

Her phone buzzed. Diana's name on the screen made her pulse quicken despite the professional tone: Confirmed for 6:00 arrival. Any updates on the expected attendance?

She typed back: Larger crowd than I thought. The community needs this.

The response came quickly: Understood. See you soon.

The formal words couldn't mask what lay beneath: shared memory of yesterday's discovery, both evidential and personal. Tonight would test their ability to navigate public space while carrying a private connection.

"She's coming?" Georgia asked, noting Lavender's expression as she read the message.

"Chief Marten will provide investigation updates," Lavender said carefully.

"Of course she will." Georgia smiled. "And you'll provide community leadership while she provides official support. Quite the partnership you've developed."

The first attendees began arriving, familiar faces carrying unfamiliar weight, community members seeking comfort and action in equal measure.

Tonight would demand everything: grief processing, hope maintenance, practical planning, and emotional support for people whose lives had been shattered by inexplicable loss.

Lavender straightened her shoulders, checked the memorial displays one final time, and prepared to hold space for whatever the evening brought. Outside, Phoenix Ridge settled into dusk while inside, candles flickered against the darkness that had touched them all.

In twenty minutes, Diana would walk through that purple door, and Lavender would have to facilitate meaningful community healing while her heart raced.

But tonight wasn't about personal feelings. Tonight was about service and the fierce love that held communities together when everything else threatened to fall apart.

By six-thirty, the café hummed with subdued energy, and conversations happened in clusters as women compared changed routines, discussing safer walking routes.

The purple door opened. Diana stepped inside, and when her gaze found Lavender's across the space, something electric passed between them.

"Evening, everyone," Diana said. "Thank you for including me tonight."

Lavender approached with coffee, using a handmade mug. The brief touch of their hands sent warmth through both women.

"Four weeks," Lavender began, settling into facilitation mode. "Four weeks since Tara, Isabel, and Joanna were taken from us. Tonight is about action, not just grief."

Diana took a seat within the circle. "Yesterday, we found the staging area where they were held. It had physical evidence and personal items—proof that connects all three cases."

Hope replaced despair on faces that had carried too much sorrow.

"We're closer than we've been," Diana continued, her voice carrying genuine care alongside professional certainty. "Community cooperation has been essential."

"Corinne has something she'd like to share," Lavender said gently.

The room fell silent as Corinne stood, moving toward the memorial corner where Joanna's photo watched over the gathering. Candlelight flickered across her face, highlighting both exhaustion and fierce determination.

"A month ago, my world shattered," Corinne began, her voice steady despite tears threatening. "Joanna kissed me goodbye and never came home. I still set two coffee cups out every morning."

Murmurs of understanding rippled through the café. Diana's professional composure softened, revealing personal investment in the pain before her.

"But I'm not here to make you feel sorry for me," Corinne continued, strength building in her voice.

"I'm here because Joanna would want me to fight.

She'd want all of us to fight. These women didn't just disappear.

They were stolen from us by someone who thought our love, our community, our very existence was something to be destroyed. "

Her words galvanized the room, transforming grief into determination.

"We won't be destroyed," Corinne said, looking around the circle. "We won't hide. We won't let fear scatter us. We'll find them, and we'll make sure this never happens again."

She broke then, tears finally overwhelming her composure. Lavender moved instinctively to provide support, arms encircling Corinne while community members surrounded them both with protective presence.

Diana stood, something fierce in her expression. "This community's courage drives this investigation. Together, we will bring them home."

The acknowledgment drew appreciative nods.

As the formal gathering transitioned to fundraising updates, Lavender watched donations exceed expectations.

Silent auction bids climbed steadily while direct contributions filled the collection jars.

More importantly, volunteer sign-ups for ongoing safety initiatives showed community commitment extending beyond tonight's emotion.

"Sixty-eight hundred dollars," Elle announced, totaling the evening's results. "Plus volunteer commitments for neighborhood watches, buddy systems, and communication networks."

Applause filled the café, recognition of collective contribution rather than individual achievement.

Diana moved through the crowd as people began departing, accepting gratitude with grace while sharing appropriate investigation details. Lavender watched her interact with community members who'd viewed police presence with suspicion weeks ago but now offered genuine appreciation.

"Thank you," Georgia Darricott said, approaching Diana near the door. "For seeing us as people worth protecting, not just problems to be managed."

"Thank you for trusting me with that responsibility," Diana replied.

By nine o'clock, the café had mostly emptied except for the usual lingerers and close friends helping with cleanup. Corinne hugged Lavender goodbye, her tears spent but determination intact.

"This helped," she said simply. "Knowing I'm not alone in this."

"You never were," Lavender assured her. "We're family."

As the last community members left, Diana remained, gathering her materials but making no move toward the door. The evening had shifted something between them—not just personal awareness, but recognition of how their partnership served something larger than either could achieve alone.

"Tonight was powerful," Diana said quietly, stacking chairs without being asked. "Watching you guide the community through such raw emotion."

"We guided them," Lavender corrected. "Your presence, updates, and respect for their pain all made a difference."