by Dan Padavona
“Still, I should have noticed. While I appreciate Darren Holt’s words, actions speak louder. Expect a better working relationship between Wells Ferry PD and the Nightshade County Sheriff’s Department, starting now.”
Thomas reached out and offered his hand. Wintringham shook it.
“I’ll leave you to heal,” Wintringham said, pushing himself up from the chair with a groan. “See you soon, Sheriff.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Sunday, 8:00 p.m.
Darren waited outside Shawn’s ICU room, arms folded, his tired back braced against the wall. Raven rested her head on his shoulders. It felt as if they’d marched through the forest for months. He was watching a nurse wheel an elderly woman down the hall when Raven shook his arm. Kemp Massey exited Shawn’s room. A uniformed officer waited beside the door with additional questions for Kemp, but the officer gave the father a moment to confer with Darren and Raven.
“How’s Shawn doing?” Raven asked.
Kemp glanced over his shoulder, unable to pull his attention from his son.
“His color looks a lot better, and his speech isn’t slurred anymore. The doctor wants to monitor him, but she expects a full recovery.”
“That’s a relief,” Darren said, patting his cousin’s shoulder.
“We have you to thank. Both of you. If you hadn’t kept Shawn warm . . .”
Kemp’s words trailed off.
“Shawn is a fighter. He’d have found a way to survive.”
“No thanks to me,” Kemp said. Darren and Raven shared a glance. “So much of what happened could have been avoided if I’d been truthful from the start. After Megan and I separated, I blamed her for destroying our home. But we’d had problems for years. We hid it from Shawn, but kids are smart. They recognize the signs. There are only so many times you can argue behind closed doors before your child figures out what’s going on.”
“Marriages end,” Raven said. “It’s an unfortunate fact of life. But staying in an unhealthy relationship makes things worse for everyone, including the child.”
“True. But blaming Megan for the separation prevented Shawn from moving on. He harbored misplaced anger toward his mother for years. And that’s my fault. I failed my son.”
Darren pressed his lips together.
“Kemp, tell me the truth. Did you try to break into Megan’s house the night you argued?”
The police officer glanced up. Kemp pushed his hands inside his pockets and shuffled his feet.
“I never stopped loving her, Darren. Even after I poisoned my son into believing his mother was the devil, I wanted to work things out, to pull our family together. That night, I drove to Megan’s house, intending to ask her for a second chance. She didn’t take me seriously, and I lost my cool. We argued on the steps before she told me to go home. After she closed the door in my face, I lost control. In my mind, she was giving up on Shawn, not just me. I regret my actions.”
“Does Shawn know?”
“I’m certain he suspects the truth.” A tear crawled out of Kemp’s eye. “I still love Megan, and I can’t believe I’ll never see her again.”
“We’re here for you,” Darren said, clasping a hand around Kemp’s arm. “But you need to be a father to your son. Time ran out for you and Megan. Don’t let it run out for you and Shawn.”
Kemp wiped his cheek and nodded.
“I’d better answer the officer’s questions and get back to my boy.”
“Give Shawn a hug for us,” Darren said, draping an arm over Raven’s shoulders. “See you in the morning.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Wednesday, 12:15 p.m.
Naomi hated herself for tricking LeVar and Scout. But what choice did she have?
She stood five steps back from the window, the pane open to the screen, the lights off so neither LeVar nor Scout would see her watching. Glen stood beside Naomi with his hands on his hips.
“Why did you call me here, Naomi? I don’t approve of my daughter conversing with a hood. Didn’t I make myself clear?”
“Just watch. And listen.”
The late April sun painted the yard in vibrant spring colors, the grass a rich green after so much rain. The breeze off the lake ruffled the pages in Scout’s notebook, and LeVar’s folder slid off the table and landed on the lawn. She snickered as he retrieved the folder. This time, he combated the wind by setting a textbook on the folder. Naomi touched Glen’s arm, and the rigidity loosened in his body. His jaw pulsed as his eyes locked on the former gangster sitting across the picnic table from Scout.
Yesterday, Naomi had asked LeVar to help her carry the picnic table from the lake shore to their yard outside Naomi’s bedroom window. LeVar didn’t understand why Naomi wanted the table moved. Nothing beat grilling in the backyard and eating beside the water.
“It’s a beautiful spot for you and Scout to study together,” she’d said, drawing an unconvinced stare from LeVar. “If it doesn’t work out, we’ll move it back next week.”
Naomi understood she’d never convince Glen to give LeVar a chance. Her stubborn husband needed to see the truth for himself. Now she lingered beyond view, her husband’s glare never leaving LeVar.
Scout glanced up from her textbook.
“What are you reading about?”
“Criminal profiling,” LeVar said, scribbling a note as he scanned his book.
“You mean catching serial killers?”
“All criminals. Thieves, Peeping Toms, drug dealers, anyone.”
“Give me an example. Profile someone we know.”
LeVar cocked an eyebrow.
“Aight. How about the girl who keeps asking questions because she needs excuses not to finish her homework?”
“Ha. You’re a million laughs, LeVar. So after you take this course, you can help Thomas and Chelsey catch creepers.”
“I already help Thomas and Chelsey catch creepers.”
“But you’d be good at it, finally.”
LeVar gave Scout a deadpan stare. It took a moment before they broke into giggles. LeVar tapped a finger on the blank page in Scout’s notebook.
“Get to work.”
Hidden in the shadows beyond the window, Glen chewed his lip. He put on a convincing front, but Naomi saw the ice melting off her husband.
“He’s going into criminal justice? Does he want to be a police officer or something?”
Naomi nodded.
“LeVar came from nothing and fought his way out of Harmon. He’s brilliant and kind, and he wants to help others.”
In the backyard, Scout’s tongue protruded from the corner of her mouth as she turned pages and scanned the reading assignment. LeVar wrote at a frantic pace as he focused on the criminal profiling textbook.
“Heard your mom is buying your sister’s house,” Scout said.
“Mmm.”
“And she’s buying a car. That would be really cool to have her around more often. But I’ll miss Raven.” Scout chewed her pen. “Hey, do you think Raven and Darren will visit after she moves into the cabin?”
“You’re not doing your homework.”
“I mean, I don’t want the investigation team to fall apart. We still have cases to solve.”
LeVar sighed. He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his fists.
“Raven and Darren need their privacy. But that doesn’t mean they don’t enjoy seeing you. The team isn’t breaking up. You’ll always have me around.”
“And you’ll always have me to teach you about music.”
Shaking his head, LeVar flipped the page. As he returned to his studies, Jack announced himself with a loud woof and bounded off the deck behind the A-frame. Thomas watched from the doorway and raised a hand at Scout and LeVar. Naomi felt relieved the sheriff was back on his feet. The doctor had ordered Thomas to take two weeks off from work. Naomi doubted Thomas would last through the weekend before he returned to the office.
As Glen and Naomi observed in silence, LeVar read Scout’s h
omework over her shoulder and answered a pressing question. Then Scout proofread LeVar’s term paper and offered suggestions to help the paragraphs flow together. LeVar and Scout were a perfect team. They might have been brother and sister, for the way they meshed.
Glen turned away and checked his phone, but not before Naomi caught his eyes glistening over.
“I need to go,” Glen said. “Something came up at work.”
“I wish you’d stay for lunch. Scout would love to spend time with you.”
As she leaned against the wall and assessed him, he brushed the thinning hair out of his eyes.
“I’ll come see Scout when I have more time.” Glen fretted with his hands as she narrowed her eyes. “I promise.”
Naomi walked him to the door. He paused in the entryway, an enigma she’d never fully understand. She wanted to tell him the accident wasn’t his fault, that he shouldn’t blame himself for Scout’s paralysis. But she’d told him these things many times. Until he acknowledged these truths, she would never reach him.
“I suppose I’ll hear from your lawyer by the end of the week.”
Glen stared into the distance and jiggled the car keys in his hand.
“No, I don’t believe you will.”
Her heart hammered.
“Glen, are you dropping the suit?”
“Whatever problems exist between us, we’ll work them out. We have to think of Scout.”
He clomped down the ramp without looking back. Then he was gone.
Naomi served tuna sandwiches, pickles, and chips to LeVar and Scout. After LeVar ensured Scout completed her homework, Naomi asked him to grab one side of the picnic table.
“You already decided it’s better by the water? Could have told you that.”
She laughed.
“You’re always right, LeVar.”
After they set the table and benches beside the lake, she hugged him. LeVar gave her a curious stare.
“What was that for?”
“For being the big brother Scout needs. You’re a good man, LeVar. I’m proud to call you a friend.”
Naomi walked back to the house, grinning. Still the tough guy who never cried, LeVar turned toward the water and coughed into his hand. And in that moment, she loved him like a son and hoped he’d always be their neighbor.
She found Scout in the kitchen, tilting her upper body over the wheelchair arm to retrieve a soda from the refrigerator.
“Let me help you with that,” Naomi said, grabbing the cola off the top shelf.
Popping the top, Naomi handed the can to her daughter.
“Dad stopped by.”
Scout coughed and wiped her mouth.
“Dad was here? When?”
“While you were doing homework with LeVar.”
“But he didn’t yell or say mean things about LeVar. Why didn’t he speak to me?”
Naomi wrung her hands and slid into a chair beside the table. Scout swiveled the wheelchair to face her.
“It took LeVar’s mother to help me see the light, but I think I figured out your father. He still hates himself because of the accident, and he’s worried he’s losing you.”
“Dad isn’t losing me. Why does he feel that way?”
“He sees the men in your life—Thomas, LeVar, Darren—and recognizes how much you’ve grown.”
“He’s jealous?”
“Not exactly. I’d say he’s worried he’s lost his place in your life.”
Scout’s face twisted with concern.
“But I love him. Just because I’m friends with LeVar doesn’t mean I don’t want a father.”
Naomi tapped her nails on the table.
“Maybe you should tell him that.”
“I will. What about the custody battle? When is he taking you to court?”
“There won’t be a custody battle, hon.”
“He told you he dropped the case?”
“Not in so many words. But I know your father. He understands no court is powerful enough to build a bridge between the two of you. That’s his duty.”
Scout’s eyes traveled to the deck door. LeVar stood beside the shore, skipping stones into the lake.
“I want you to understand something, Scout. I’ll always love your dad, and I want nothing more than for your father to be a part of your life. But there’s no going back to the way things were.”
“You’re asking him for a divorce.”
Naomi considered her daughter’s words for a moment.
“Eventually, yes. He broke my trust, and it’s time I moved on. But he’s your father, and he’ll always be a part of our family.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Wednesday, 5:20 p.m.
Beside the water, Thomas leaned on a walking stick and watched the boats slide across the surface of Wolf Lake. LeVar tossed a Frisbee to Jack while Scout shouted encouragement to the dog. Sweet smoke curled up from the grill where Darren and Raven flipped burgers and hot dogs and belly-laughed with Sheriff Gray. Turning to face the A-frame, Thomas winced. His legs ached from overexertion, though he’d done nothing strenuous today. Just casual walks to the trail and back. His doctors told him to expect a rough week before he regained his strength. He needed to be cautious with his back. After the gunshot wound and the fall into the ravine, his spine had taken too much trauma. His body required time to heal.
Through the windows, he could see Chelsey inside, pulling the baked beans from the oven, while Naomi and Serena readied their latest baking masterpiece. Thomas Shepherd smiled. The family was back together again, and for the first time this spring, the sky was an honest blue with no hint of rain.
A shout pulled his attention to the state park trail. On the worn path, a teenage boy waved a hand over his head. It was good to see Shawn Massey enjoying the perfect April day. His father pushed Shawn in a wheelchair, a cautious hand on the teenager’s back as they navigated a bumpy patch on the trail. They’d taken Darren’s advice and stuck to the smooth portion of the lake trail.
A horn honked in the driveway. Salutations followed before Deputy Lambert arrived with Aguilar. Lambert cornered Gray on the deck and held court, the deputy and the former sheriff clinking beer bottles together in a toast.
“Where’s your walker, old man?”
Thomas snickered as Aguilar descended the yard and joined him at the shoreline. She wore a blue cotton skirt and a tank that showed off her biceps, a baseball cap pulled over her head.
“No hospital can hold me, Aguilar.”
She looked at him quizzically.
“You sure you’re okay? Maybe you shouldn’t push yourself.”
“The doctor told me no high impact sports, no heavy lifting.”
“So I won’t twist your arm and force you to join me at the gym.”
“Recovery has its benefits.”
She laughed, but there was a darker substance lingering behind the smile. Guilt and regret.
“It’s not unusual to experience anxiety and guilt afterward,” he said, touching her shoulder.
Aguilar turned her head away.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Remember the advice you gave me after the Jeremy Hyde and Thea Barlow cases? You told me I’d done nothing wrong, and I should stick with my therapy.”
“I remember.”
“And?”
Her shoulders slumped.
“Can I tell you something, Thomas?”
“You can always talk to me, Aguilar.”
Aguilar kicked a stone with her sandal and pulled her lips tight.
“I’ve never shot anyone before, let alone killed a person. And to think it was a cop.”
Thomas nodded.
“It’s painful. But you did what you had to do. Avery Neal was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and he gave you no choice. If you and Lambert hadn’t opened fire, he would have killed both of you. And Trooper Fitzgerald.”
“I keep telling myself that. It’s like there are two voices in my head, and the irrational one is t
he loudest. What should I do?”
“First, I’ll address you as your supervisor. County policy dictates you’ll attend therapy until your doctor deems you’re fit for fieldwork again.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth. “It’s the law. You’ll remain on desk duty until you’re ready. I promise, it won’t be long.”
She folded her arms and pouted her lips. On the lake, a family rode a motorboat over the waves and pulled a young girl on water skis.
“And now I’ll speak to you as a friend.” He waited until she turned to him. “You did the right thing, Aguilar, and you’re the best cop I’ve ever worked with. It will take time before you come to grips with what happened. Give yourself as much time as you need. And hey, who’s to say your bullet took down Neal? Lambert fired his weapon too.”
The corner of Aguilar’s mouth lifted.
“Lambert couldn’t shoot an outhouse from twenty paces.”
“But I’d pay money to see him try.”
Aguilar smiled contentedly out at the water. The longer she watched the waves slosh against the rocks, the more her muscles relaxed.
“You know, just standing beside the lake helps. Like my worries are drifting away with the waves. Is that weird?”
“Not at all. People have flocked to the water for centuries. It has to do with the negative ions produced by flowing water.”
He stopped himself. A few years ago, he would have recited any of the dozens of studies he’d memorized on bodies of water and their effects on human psychology. He could be too literal, and had been since he was a child. It was better to enjoy the simple things and live life.
Thomas cleared his throat.
“Anyhow, if the voices inside your head ever get too loud and you want a place to relax . . .” He swept his arm across the shore. “Mi casa, su casa.”
She grinned up at him.
“You speak Spanish now, Shep Dawg?”
“Not exactly. But I see you’re getting your nicknames from LeVar.”
They took their time strolling back to the others. Aguilar surprised Gray with a hug. Watching the former sheriff dangle a beer in one hand and wonder if he should embrace Aguilar made Thomas chuckle to himself.