Amanda pulled a chair close. Her hands trembled in her lap. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Hey Sam, I’m Sheriff Beacher.” She chuckled uncomfortably. “I guess you remember me, huh? Only I’m not the sheriff anymore, just Amanda now.”
A monitor squawked behind her head, causing her to flinch.
Shit, what am I doing here?
She sighed. “I saw my sister last night. In fact, she came home with me. Her injuries weren’t as bad as they looked. I patched her up and helped her with a bath. That hair took an hour to untangle. We must have used an entire bottle of conditioner on it.” Amanda laughed. “She’s going to live with me now. I know it won’t be like before, we have to get to know each other again, but it’s a start. I thought about moving. So many memories in the house, for both of us, but most of them are good. I don’t want to leave Tommy behind.”
Amanda leaned forward and took Sam’s hand. “I’m so sorry you’re in here, and for what they did to you. For what I put you through. But I want you to know, you changed my life. We have a bond you and me. We’re members of an exclusive club no one really wants to join. Still, there’s more to losing a child than perpetual grief. There’s healing and moving on without ever forgetting. Tommy wouldn’t want me to live the way I have been, and neither would your Hailey want it for you.” She tested the words again, and they felt right on her tongue. “What happened to Tommy and Hailey were accidents. Not your fault, and not mine. It hurts, it will always hurt, some at least, but their memories should carry more joy than pain. Don’t you think?
“I’m going to be here for you when you wake. A couple of churches in town are going to fix up your house, make it a nice place to live. This town owes you that much. We’re going to get through this together.” Tears trickled down her face. “We can’t go back, Sam, but we can’t stay put either. There’s got to be something in the future, something good. You made me see I don’t want to live consumed by grief, guilt, and anger. Oh god, the anger, burning me up inside. You gave me back my tomorrows, Sam. Thank you.”
Amanda dipped her head, a weight lifted from her shoulders. Perhaps, he heard her and something she said would matter. Maybe something in her words would act as the tether guiding him back from whatever abyss now claimed him. Amanda owed him so much; she owed him everything.
The faintest touch. Movement and warmth. Her head popped up, and her heart leapt into her throat. Sam’s fingers curled around hers. Amanda laughed, tears of joy and relief raining down. She sat there a long time, content with the silence, holding Sam’s hand, alternating between crying and laughing. Finally, she drew her hand free and took her phone from her pocket. After punching in the number, Amanda sat back, the phone to her ear, a smile on her face.
“Gary, I signed the divorce papers. You can pick them up whenever.”
* * *
Two weeks after arriving home, Marlowe faced a situation far more daunting than a twisted child in a bunker…he faced Ginger Cummings. She and John agreed to meet, but only at their attorney’s offices. Perhaps they wanted to intimidate him, but more likely, they simply were no longer comfortable with him in a social setting.
The conference room at Castor, Castor, and Hillman displayed all the affectations expected of a downtown firm—massive oak table, leather padded chairs, rows and rows of gold leafed law books, the profiles of distinguished looking old white men staring down from the walls. Becca sat on Marlowe’s left, holding his hand, Megan Casey on his right. Across the table, a dour, and rather obese, attorney named Milton Castor with Ginger and John alongside.
“This is your show, Mr. Gentry, if you’d like to begin.” Mr. Castor, his chins warbling in time with his words, waved a hand in the air.
Marlowe took a deep breath and held his gaze on his former in-laws. “Ginger, John, you said you only want what’s best for Paige. And I think you’d agree, in a perfect world she belongs with her parent. She’s lost her mother, losing me too could set her back. We could cause her all sorts of emotional and mental problems.” Ginger opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted his hand. “I understand your concerns and share them. This week has shown me a few things, put things into perspective, and I’ve decided you’re right.” Ginger and John glanced at each other, perplexed. “Paige’s safety must come first. She’s been through far too much for a child, for anyone. My job is dangerous. It’s put Paige and myself in harm’s way more than once, and I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again. I owe it to my daughter, she needs a stable and safe home.”
“Marlowe, you don’t know how much—”
He again raised his hand, interrupting Ginger. “So, I’m quitting Metro and resigning my position with the SVCU.” The Cummings’ mouths gaped in unison, and Castor almost choked. “I’m taking a consulting job with a friend’s firm. They are a group of former cops, FBI, military who offer their resources and expertise to local departments ill-equipped to handle certain cases. I’ll work mostly from home, analyzing evidence and advising the boots on the ground. On the rare occasion I need to be on site, I won’t get involved in the arrest or apprehension of any suspects.”
“Oh, Marlowe, that sounds wonderful,” said Ginger, a genuine smile on her face. For his part, John beamed, likely thankful to see an end to his wife’s warpath.
“One more thing, a stable home works best with two parents.” Marlowe held Becca’s hand to view, which displayed a giant diamond glinting in the light from her left ring finger. “Paige loves her, I love her. I should have done it the day we met. I’m not letting her get away.”
Ginger leapt to her feet, marched around the table, and grabbed Marlowe in a suffocating hug. Once done with him, she attacked Becca, embracing her and kissing her cheeks. “Oh, Marlowe, that’s all I ever wanted, the best for Paige. We never meant to hurt you or upset you. Please know that.”
“I do. We need the people who love us to keep us straight and nudge us in the right direction sometimes. I’m sorry things got heated and out of hand. You know I love you, and Paige loves you.”
“Where is my granddaughter? This calls for a celebration.” Ginger ushered them out of the office, arms in arms.
She and John treated them to a nice dinner and Paige a ride on the carousel at Elmdale Park. Once home, Marlowe collapsed onto the sofa, flanked by Paige and Becca.
“God, am I glad that’s over,” he said.
“God, me too,” said Paige, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.
Marlowe laughed. “I bet you are.” He slapped her sneaker. “Get your feet off the table.”
“You’re going to be my new mom?” Paige gazed up at Becca who reddened.
“I’ll never replace your real mom, but I’ll do the best I can. How’s that sound, huh?” Becca tickled her to squeals of delight.
“Go on up, brush your teeth and get ready for bed, Sweetie. It’s been a long day. I’m bushed,” said Marlowe, tousling Paige’s hair.
“Oh, okay.” She dashed up the stairs singing a song she had heard on the radio coming home.
Once Paige departed the room, Becca snuggled close to Marlowe on the sofa. “She seems happy.”
“Are you?” He tilted his head to rest his forehead against hers.
“Of course.” She kissed him and held up her ring. “I’ve never been so happy. I think the real question is, are you? Sure you’re okay with leaving the force? Won’t you be bored to tears?”
“Nah, maybe at first, but I’ll adjust. Wayne said I’ll get plenty of work. And no, nothing like the ‘I could tell you, but I’d have to kill you’ stuff he does.” Marlowe slung his good arm around her. “The important thing is you and Paige will be safe, and I’ll get to spend more time with you both.” He grabbed for his phone. “Speaking of which, I’m calling Oscar. We are going to the mountains.”
“Yay,” said Becca with a clap.
Marlowe’s phone rang in his hand.
“Dammit.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After spending twenty years a
s the lead singer of a progressive metal band, Dallas Mullican turned his creative impulses toward writing. Raised on King, Barker, and McCammon, he moved on to Poe and Lovecraft, enamored with the macabre. During his time at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, where he earned degrees in English and Philosophy, Dallas developed a love for the Existentialists, Shakespeare, Faulkner, and many more great authors and thinkers. Incorporating this wide array of influences, he entices the reader to fear the bump in the night, think about the nature of reality, and question the motives of their fellow humans.
A pariah of the Deep South, Mullican doesn’t understand the allure of NASCAR, hates Southern rock and country music, and believes the great outdoors consists of walking to the mailbox and back. He remains a metalhead at heart, and can be easily recognized by his bald head and Iron Maiden t-shirt.
To learn more about the author, you can visit him on social media, or check out his author page on his publisher’s website.
www.scarletgalleonpublications.com
TITLES BY AUTHOR
The Marlowe Gentry Series
A Coin for Charon
The Dark Age
October’s Children
When Silence Speaks *
The Fading Light *
The Cadence of Dying *
The Aamon’s War Trilogy
Blood for the Dancer *
The Sun at Night *
Song of the Unspoken *
Stand-Alone Novels
The Music of Midnight *
( * forthcoming )
October's Children: A Marlowe Gentry Thriller Page 29