Page 129 of Thankless in Death

The young girl stood on her chair so she could see, smiling now. Kevin, the boy she’d be raised with, stood on the chair beside her. Richard and Elizabeth flanked them.

And they were all a part of this, she thought. Richard and Elizabeth, who’d lost their daughter; Kevin, whose junkie mother had deserted him; Nixie, whose entire family had been slaughtered.

And Jamie in the back of the room, once a grieving and defiant kid determined to avenge his sister’s murder.

All of them, and so many more.

“Okay,” she said a third time. “Okay, thanks. I’m... honored and grateful to be awarded this distinction. I’m honored to be part of the NYPSD, and to work with so many good cops. To be commanded by one, to have been trained by one, to partner with one, to head a department with many really good cops. And to have the brain and the canniness, I guess, of a civilian who’d make a pretty good cop himself if he wasn’t so opposed to it.”

That got enough of a laugh to settle her down. “This distinction is theirs as much as mine. Probably more. You don’t close cases without someone having your back, or trusting the cop—or the civilian—going through the door with you.

“This is for all of us. And it’s for every victim we’ve stood for or will stand for, every survivor we work to find answers for. They’re what count. They’re why we’re here. That’s it.”

Thank God, she thought, even as she was angled for photos, as applause rang out. Thank God that was over.

They wanted more photos of her with Roarke, and despite her instinct to shake him off, he took her hand and held it. “Well said, Lieutenant.”

“I was supposed to say something else, but I forgot what it was.”

He laughed, squeezed her hand. “And I’m not permitted to kiss you, even after that?”

“Forget it.”

She got through more blah-blah with the mayor, more handshakes, a few more photos. Then Kyung, in his delicate way, extracted them. “I realize you have very little time, Lieutenant, but there are a couple of people who’d very much like a moment.”

He led her offstage, gestured to where Nixie waited.

“Hey, kid.”

“You look different wearing that.”

“I feel different wearing this. A little weird.”

“We’re coming to your house tomorrow, after the parade.”

“That’s what I hear.”

“There’ll be lots of kids. We saw Summerset, and he said.”

“Yeah.” Eve glanced over, saw Roarke embrace his aunt while a herd of kids—various ages—flocked around. “He’s right.”

“I’m supposed to talk to you mostly tomorrow when you’re not so busy, but...”

“Go ahead.”

That laser look came back, straight into Eve’s eyes. “You said it was for all of us. My mom and my dad and my brother, and my friend. And everyone.”

“That’s right.”

“Then can I touch it?”

“Sure.” Eve crouched down, watched Nixie’s face—serious blue eyes, soft cheeks, stubborn little mouth—as the girl handled the medal.

Then Nixie looked up. “It’s important.”

“It’s important.”

She smiled then, and that too-adult seriousness flicked away from her face. “I have a surprise for you.”