Page 85

Like Jude, Dylan knew how to let the silence play out, which probably said more about Emmy than about them.

Finally, he said, “I know this is a stupid question, but how do you feel about that?”

“Awful,” Emmy admitted. “Gerald loved Hannah. She was my best friend since forever. Cole adores her. Paul was her husband. They have a child together. Davey already lost a sister to violence. He’s going to lose his father. He almost lost his mother.”

“Those are all accurate statements.”

He was sounding like a lawyer again. “I’m standing in my dad’s office for the first time since he died, and I know if I let myself start crying, I’ll never be able to stop.”

When Dylan leaned into the silence this time, she knew it was because he was shocked. The last time Emmy had talked to him so openly was twelve years ago in a school hallway.

She made herself keep going. “I’ve been waiting so long for them to die.”

Saying the words out loud made Emmy feel like a monster, but she couldn’t take back the truth.

“Not that I wanted to lose them, but when Myrna got diagnosed, it started this clock winding down, and all I’ve heard every day, every week, every month and year since then was this constant ticking.

Waiting for her to forget things, to forget places and memories and eventually, to forget me and Tommy and Cole and Dad. ”

Emmy leaned back against the door to brace herself.

“And then Dad got his cancer diagnosis, and nobody could really tell us how long it would take for him to die, so another clock started ticking, and I couldn’t take both of them.

Not at the same time. We had to watch Dad slowly fail, and meanwhile Mom’s haunting us like a ghost in her own house, and no one could tell us when it was going to end. ”

Emmy had to stop to swallow.

“I miss them so goddam much, Dylan. I’ve dreaded losing them for so long, and suddenly, it’s like somebody snapped their fingers and both of the clocks stopped at the same damn time, and they’re just gone.

And the worst part is that I’m so fucking relieved it’s finally over so I don’t have to live with that constant ticking anymore. ”

She heard Dylan let out a long sigh of breath. “I’m so sorry, carino . Sometimes, things just fucking suck, and you have to accept it, and there’s no shame in being relieved when the bad part is over.”

She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Will you cook dinner for me?”

“My love, it’s midnight.”

Emmy looked at her watch. He was right. She’d lost all sense of time inside the dark room with Cole. A third day was inching up on the death of her father.

Dylan said, “How about I cook you breakfast?”

“Okay.”

She ended the call. She couldn’t start sobbing in front of the squad. She wiped her nose again. Dropped her phone on the desk. Her chest felt like a cattle prod was pressing into her ribs when she sank into her chair.

“Knock-knock.” Vanna Temple opened the door without being told to come in. She saw Emmy’s face and asked, “Bad time?”

Emmy’s eyes threatened to roll. There was never a good time for Brett’s irritating wife. Especially because she was pregnant and smug again. “What do you need, Vanna?”

“I was dropping off a fresh uniform for Brett. You got him working some long hours, missy.” Vanna struggled to sit in the folding chair.

Her yellow and white polka dot dress stretched across her belly like a hospital sock.

“I thought I should pop in to let you know Brett’s gonna toss his hat in the ring to run for sheriff. ”

Emmy smoothed her lips together. The worst part about this conversation was that from the very beginning, her sister had been right.

“We both know you don’t want it,” Vanna said. “Nobody can fill Gerald’s shoes, but Brett’s gonna try his best to make your daddy proud. I hope he has your support.”

Emmy stared at her for an uncomfortably long time. “Where did you get that I don’t want it?”

“Well, it’s just hard work, isn’t it?”

“Are you unfamiliar with the last two days of my life?”

Vanna laughed, though nothing was funny. “I don’t think this town is ready for a female sheriff.”

“This town,” Emmy repeated. “You mean Clifton County, where all the Cliftons live, isn’t ready for another Clifton to be sheriff?”

“Oh, honey, that wasn’t a knock against you. It’s just not the natural order of things.” Vanna’s open shrug implied it was all beyond their control. “Women don’t lead. Men do. They’re the hunters. We’re the gatherers. They’re our protectors. We gotta let them protect us.”

“Who do we need them to protect us from?”

“What’s that?”

Emmy summoned her best Myrna. “From whom do women need protection, Vanna?”

Vanna obviously knew the answer. She wasn’t laughing anymore. “Emmy, don’t be silly.”

“It’s sheriff,” Emmy said. “That’s my title now. I was the chief deputy before. Now, I’m the sheriff.”

“All right, well I see you’re not in the right mind for talking.” Vanna’s smile was tight across her face. “You have a blessed day, sheriff .”

The sting to her parting salvo was somewhat lessened by her struggle to rise from the chair.

Vanna left the office door open. Emmy got up to close it.

Instead of going back to her own desk, she pushed her laptop over to Gerald’s side.

She gave herself a moment before she sat down in her father’s chair.

When Emmy was a child, Gerald would often bring her to the station to give Myrna a break. He would set up Emmy at his desk with crayons and coloring books. He would turn on the radio so she couldn’t hear him talking about cases with Virgil.

She’d always hated coloring. Myrna hadn’t raised her to sit still.

Emmy had spent most of her time spinning herself around in her father’s chair until she was dizzy.

Then she had gotten older and started spending all of her free time with Hannah.

Then Jonah had come along. Then Emmy was wearing a deputy’s uniform and sitting out in the squad room.

Then she was sitting across from her father as his chief deputy.

Now, she sat in Gerald’s chair because she needed her back to the wall.

Emmy didn’t want anyone to accidentally see what she was doing.

She opened her laptop. Went to the cloud backup for her phone.

Selected the video from two days ago that she’d recorded on the street outside Adam Huntsinger’s house.

Emmy tapped play .

Dervla Culpepper’s face was pinched with self-righteousness as she filmed the mob of people with her iPhone.

Ashleigh Ellis was looking at her watch.

Brandi Norton was kneeling down to tie her shoe.

The crowd was starting to grow restless again.

Moms in leggings. Men in factory coveralls.

A few stragglers in business casual. Twenty-six volatile, unpredictable people with more on the way.

By the time Emmy had started the recording, Hannah was already there.

Gerald was still inside the house. Emmy had wanted to capture the faces in the crowd because sometimes, occasionally, violent criminals tried to insert themselves into investigations.

They pretended to be witnesses or concerned citizens or spectators, or sometimes they volunteered to come out of retirement to help with the case.

There was a cough from the squad room. Emmy waited to make sure no one was heading toward the office. She tapped down the volume when Hannah asked—

Do you think Adam took Paisley?

Emmy touched the trackpad and scrubbed past the conversation.

She could still remember how jarring it had felt to hear Hannah ask her a direct question.

Their shared agony of watching Gerald slowly, painfully, make his way up the driveway.

The comforting warmth of Hannah holding onto Emmy’s hand.

The sweat pouring off her father when he’d leaned against the mailbox to catch his breath.

The sight of Gerald’s frailty had been so disconcerting that Emmy had tucked the phone into her vest pocket without stopping the recording. The camera had continued filming for sixteen minutes. By the time Emmy had stopped it, she was covered in blood and sitting inside her cruiser beside her son.

She tapped the key to slow the video back to normal speed.

Gerald was holding onto the mailbox like a crutch. He was so visibly failing. His skin was pale. He couldn’t stand up straight because of the fractures in his spine. His voice was gravelly when he told the crowd—

Paisley Walker is not here. Go home. Let us do our job.

Emmy skipped a few moments ahead. Gerald had pushed himself away from the mailbox.

Summoned the ice water in his veins. Stood straight and tall.

The tactic had worked. Most people were dispersing, but Dervla Culpepper had shoved her phone into Gerald’s face.

He looked exhausted when he responded to her vacuous question.

Ma’am, the case against Adam Huntsinger is—

Hannah screamed Paul’s name.

The camera turned along with Emmy.

The sequence of events happened so fast that now, sitting alone in the office, Emmy had to slow down the playback to quarter speed to understand what had really happened.

Paul aimed the revolver at Emmy’s heart. The crowd scattered. Panic ensued. Screaming. Crying. Pushing. Shoving. Cole was running in the distance. His vest flapped behind him. Then Hannah lunged into the frame, her hands flailing as she reached for the gun.

Emmy leaned closer to the screen. Slowed down the video to a crawl.

She watched the index finger of Hannah’s left hand accidentally slip through the trigger guard at the exact same moment that Paul fired the revolver. The muzzle jerked up and over, which changed the trajectory of the bullet so that it bypassed Emmy and went straight into Gerald’s chest.

Emmy stopped the video. She took a breath. Sat back in her father’s chair.

Hannah had saved her life.

Sherry Robertson would’ve said that Hannah had also helped take Gerald’s.

Emmy stared at the paused image. Smoke still flowered from the revolver’s muzzle.

She didn’t need to see the rest. The details of her father’s murder would live with her forever.

She dragged the file to the trash. Hit permanent delete.

She would buy a new phone tomorrow, submerge the old one in water until the circuits died.

No one would ever see the video. No one but Emmy and Hannah would ever know what had actually happened.

A split second. A quick reaction. A fatal moment in time.

Losing a precious thing. Holding onto a bad marriage. Trying to protect a child.

Emmy knew exactly what that felt like.

She also knew that mistakes could be a reason to forgive.