After a fitful, troubled sleep, I finally stumbled out of bed around eight. I showered and dressed while four cats watched my every move. I heard no cries for food—probably because they’d already been fed. They just wanted to make sure where I was; perhaps they needed to be reassured that life would return to normal. So much had happened last night that the stress still had them on high alert.
They followed me to the kitchen, where I found Lindsey, Finn and Amelia eating cereal at the breakfast bar. Yoshi was strategically placed under Amelia’s barstool waiting for any morsel she might drop.
The coffee was made, and indeed the cats had been fed. I might have to keep Lindsey and Finn around—like forever. I poured a mug of a smoky brew and said, “This is new. Not my usual.”
“I brought it from my house,” Lindsey said. “The woman who lives there will never miss it.”
But that woman was Amelia’s mother. I could only hope she’d keep her distance from this precious child.
I leaned on the counter and smiled at Lindsey’s sister. “Amelia, how are you this morning?”
“Fine. Where’s my mommy?”
Chablis jumped on the counter and stared at Amelia’s bowl. She was waiting for a taste.
Lindsey said, “As soon as you finish your cereal, Finn and I will take you home. I’ll bet she missed you while she was working.”
Her left hand on Chablis, Amelia picked up her spoon with the other hand. “Good. I missed her, too.”
After I’d had two much-needed cups of fantastic coffee, Amelia hugged me good-bye and told me I had coffee breath. “But that’s okay. You’re nice.” The little girl smiled not only with her lips but with those big brown eyes—the ones that looked exactly like her brother Seth’s.
I imagined Tom, Candace and the rest of the small police force had been working all night “wrapping up,” as Mike used to say. He would be sorely missed by everyone, but most of all by Tom and Candace.
I was just about to text Tom and see how things were going when Kara burst in through the back door. “What the heck happened last night? My scanner was absolutely dead and then Liam called me saying his office had a call about arrests and I realized I missed everything.” Apparently Tom and Candace accomplished quite a bit after leaving here.
Kara eyed my third cup of coffee hungrily. “Is there more where that came from?”
“Absolutely.”
We sat at the table that looked out on the lake, its peaceful ripples against the shore in stark contrast to the story I told—the one that took me almost an hour to explain.
Kara’s remarks when I’d finished summed it up well: “What twisted people. No conscience, no empathy, no love for anyone but themselves.”
“And yet they volunteered for a charity,” I said. “I don’t understand that part. It seems like a mockery, because mostly they both used anything and anyone to their advantage.”
“Narcissist is an overused word these days, but it fits those two women.” She stood. “I’m late to this party. The story I ran this morning will now be followed up by a special edition. You think Tom will have time to talk to me right away? I’ll need an official statement from the police, and Mike always used to do that for me.”
“He’ll make time for you,” I said quietly.
We hugged good-bye and I texted Tom to let him know Kara was on her way to the police station.
His response was to call and his first words when I answered were “You know how to love. I am so grateful for that.”
“Hey, so do you. Now tell me, how is Zoe enjoying her jail cell? It’s not quite the accommodations she’s used to.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care. This case is done. We finished the paperwork, got a judge on board to hurry up the process of getting into that safe-deposit box where Rhett kept his will. This case is wrapped up tighter than a caterpillar in a cocoon. As expected, the boys flipped on their mother. They know everything. Her confession isn’t even needed now.”
“I’m glad this is behind us, but what about Mike? His arrangements?”
“His sister can’t get here until next week—she cares for her mother-in-law, who has Alzheimer’s, and has to find a caregiver. We thought we’d have a candlelight service in the park tonight, since the funeral is days away. Kara can play town crier with that special edition you mentioned in your text.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll set it up. I need something to do to take my mind off everything that happened here last night.”
We disconnected and I felt the warmth of a cat pressing against my leg. I looked down to see Magpie, her prize in her mouth again. The tassel that probably saved a lot of lives.
• • •
The turnout that evening was unbelievable. The Mercy grapevine could spread the word—both good and bad—faster than any technology invented. Twitter had something to do with the whole town showing up, but I was still amazed.
I’d had to drive to a party supply warehouse out of town so we’d have enough candles, and we nearly did. Though we ran out, no one complained. People shared, joined hands, and raised their lit candles high.
Candace wasn’t used to speaking in public, but that was about to change. She and Tom shared the gazebo in the center of the park and used the PA system the mayor offered us. He’d been a great help in directing this effort to bring the town together tonight. He introduced Tom and Candace after offering his own high praise for our fallen chief.
Tom cleared his throat and I stood by the gazebo stairs and offered a thumbs-up for encouragement.
“Mike Baca was my closest friend. The events that led to his death can be read about and talked about and we all need to do that. It’s part of dealing with our loss. But in the end, when the talking is done, when the space he used to fill is so empty it hurts, we will pause in quiet moments and remember what a good man he was.” Tom, head down, handed the mic to Candace.
“He was the chief to me, the boss,” she began haltingly. “But he was so much more. My mentor, my friend, the guy who put up with my obsessing over stuff like cat hair at a crime scene.”
A small current of laughter and nodding of heads followed. Raised candles bobbed in the stark, cold evening air.
“I loved my chief. He took care of all of us and he’ll be missed.”
Someone in the crowd began to sing “Let It Be,” and soon voices quietly joined in the perfect song to say good-bye to a wonderful friend.