Matthew pulled out a chair beside Paul at the patio table, leaned back to watch Charlotte and Bryce, Shannon and Ann play croquet in the Bishops’ backyard. The two Irish Setters and Ann’s dog Black lay sprawled as a group in the shade, content to watch the game rather than chase the croquet balls.
“Glad to have this summer about over?” Paul asked.
Matthew smiled. “Hmm.” This was the first trip back to Chicago with nothing on the schedule but a chance for Shannon to visit family and friends. The next major event on the calendar would be November fourth and the vote to see if Jeffery became the next governor of Illinois. The polling data was still looking promising. The case that had begun with Shannon’s reappearance was in its final stages, the last of the arrests had been made, with answers for the final questions being slowly teased out of the evidence. The retired cop in him was pleased to see the truth sorting itself out.
“You figured out who was behind her abduction. You know why it happened,” Paul said, sounding pretty sure of himself.
Matthew considered the ice in his glass, not surprised by the question, and finally glanced over at Paul. “Yes.” He figured Paul had mostly sorted out that same answer too, knew the question wouldn’t have come unless Paul was leading somewhere.
Paul idly swatted a fly. “Can we do anything about it?”
“No.”
Paul mulled that over, leaned across the table to nudge the lid off the relish tray. “So we could do something about it, but Shannon doesn’t want us to? Or we couldn’t do anything about it even if we wanted to?”
Matthew chose to answer by simply tipping his glass toward Shannon.
“You okay with that?”
Matthew shrugged. “It is what it is.”
“The address where she was to be dropped off is a rather glaring hole in the evidence record.”
“I can imagine,” Matthew agreed.
Paul ate another olive off the tray. “Any problem if I go arrest a couple of lawyers? I’ve been gleaning some interesting facts from hither and yon.”
Matthew smiled at the way Paul said it. He calculated the odds that one lawyer in particular would try to bring Shannon’s mom into matters, be believed, and think it in his own best interest to be associated with one of the most well-publicized abduction cases in the last decade. “Have at it.”
Paul nodded. “Adam likes arresting lawyers. Theo thinks we should give him the honor.”
“Works for me,” Matthew said. “Adam also likes working the press, and he’s good at it. The publicity won’t hurt his career either.”
“Our thoughts exactly. Theo and I are both ready for reporters to lose track of our phone numbers.”
Matthew reached over and picked up a slice of green pepper. “Shannon asked me to bring out the journals for you to put into evidence, all but the first month. She doesn’t want any of the diaries to see the light of day if you can avoid it, but she won’t risk the first one.”
Paul lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything.
“I’ve read them all,” Matthew confirmed. He never wanted to have to discuss what he’d read, but when Shannon occasionally shared a look with him that showed him another slice of pain, he had a sense of what memory had just flared up. They replayed in vivid colors at times, and the number of hours she spent swimming, letting go of those memories, were steadily climbing. Her counselor was swimming with her some days, training for a long-distance charity swim they planned to do together next year.
“I’m hoping the journals aren’t necessary,” Paul said. “I think it’ll work itself down to three trials, and the rest as plea deals. Flynn testifying is really hurting the family.”
“His plea worked out yet?”
“We’ll sort it out after the trials are done. I’m guessing he gets twenty-five years, serves fifteen of it.”
“I think Shannon could live with that.”
“She hasn’t been back to see him since that first time.”
“Flynn told her to visit him on birthdays and anniversaries, and to write occasionally. She’s honoring that. She doesn’t talk about him much these days. How’s the collection of stolen goods coming along?”
“We’ve accumulated a small warehouse of items to sift through,” Paul replied with some humor. “The paperwork involved is drowning my clerical staff.”
Matthew remembered all the paperwork involved in robbery cases. “And is the rest of your life settling down now?”
Paul shrugged. “Someone tried to put a bomb in the mayor’s car last week. That rather got our attention.”
“One major crisis solved, the next one takes its place.”
“Yeah. It’s good being a cop. It has a nice permanence to it. Will you go back to being a Boston cop?” Paul asked, curious.
“Don’t quite know yet. Nor have Shannon and I sorted things out.”
Paul grinned. “She’s sorted you out. I notice every time I talk to her, it’s Matthew this, and Matthew that. She’s not looking anywhere else.”
“Shannon and Becky have decided between them that since Shannon isn’t going to date this year, she will instead just hang out with me.”
Paul laughed.
“I’m not minding it,” Matthew admitted.
Shannon joined them. “Not minding what?”
“Having a camera in my face every time I turn around,” Matthew replied smoothly.
“Photos from one sailing trip,” she countered. “Which turned out to be mostly your sunglasses and your hat when you look at the photos, so don’t think I’m not going to try again one day. I promised Becky an interesting photo of you before the summer’s over.”
Black wandered over to lean into Shannon’s knee. She bent down to pet him.
“I saw Ellie’s invitation for the gallery show,” Paul mentioned. “Congratulations on that, Shannon.”
“Thanks. It’s pretty satisfying, seeing my name on the formal invitation. Ellie’s putting on sale five hundred photos from the ones she bought from me. I hope they sell for her or I’m going to feel awful for taking her money.”
“Ellie rarely makes a mistake pricing art,” Paul reassured.
“I saw some of the paintings around your place,” Shannon said. “You’ve been seriously collecting for years.”
“I have. And I’ll be at the show with an eye to buy,” Paul added.
Shannon grinned. “You can say you knew me when . . .”
Paul laughed and made room for Ann. His wife acquired his glass to eat some of the ice. “We women are picking up Cindy and Ashley in about an hour and going shopping,” Ann announced, “so if you guys have any plans for today, you’ll have a few hours without us.”
Matthew looked over at Bryce, who had joined them. “Darts and lasagna?”
“Sure beats running five miles.”
“You could do both,” Shannon suggested. “Matthew needs to get back to training,” she told Paul. “I want him to run his tenth Boston Marathon so I can get some good photos.”
“You do?” Matthew said. This was the first he was hearing about it.
Shannon gave him a nod. “If asked next year why you aren’t running, is your answer going to be that you’re too old?”
“A person can use that argument only a few times and have it still be effective,” he said, not rising to the bait. She’d been tackling their age difference with good humor and routinely giving him back that answer. Bottom line, he wasn’t going to get away with not asking her out on an official date next year because he was “too old” for her.
“I suppose you could switch over and take up swimming,” she suggested, “because I’m never going to be much of a runner.”
Three phones chimed at nearly the same instant, and Charlotte got hers out first. “Ellie’s found her wedding dress!” she called out, excited. “Come on, Ann, Shannon. This we have got to see.” Charlotte paused to kiss her husband. “We’ll probably be late,” she said, and headed into the house, telling Ellie at the other end of the line, “Stay where you are—we’re coming to see it.” John trailed behind the women with a nod to Bryce. John would make sure security was with the group.
Matthew looked around the table at Bryce and Paul. “Why do I get the feeling the best part of our lives just disappeared together?”
Bryce chuckled. “You do get used to them being around. So . . . how many miles do you need to run to train for a marathon?”
Matthew felt the blisters already forming. “Start at a hundred miles a week if you don’t want to be gasping for air like a fish out of water around mile seventeen. I’m going to end up running this marathon just so Shannon can cheer me on and take pictures.”
Paul pushed the relish tray back over to him. “Yep.”
“Sounds about right,” Bryce agreed. “So, darts and lasagna, and we say we discussed his training schedule? Or do we actually go find the appropriate shoes and run?”
“We’re not that old yet,” Paul said. “Five miles?”
“What was your best marathon time?” Bryce asked.
Matthew could see where this was heading. “I’m not answering that, and five miles sounds fine to me—if you two can do it without puffing.”
Bryce shared a look with Paul. “He’s the one who’ll be puffing before we let him off the track today.”
“I do believe he will,” Paul said. “We’re both runners, Matthew. Bryce because Charlotte likes to run with him, and I’ve got a reputation at the office to maintain.” He pushed back his chair. “Shall we meet at the track in about forty minutes?”
Matthew got up with them, good-natured about what was coming. “You two do realize that I’ve done nine marathons and more than ten thousand miles of training runs over the last decade? We could call it a warm-up run and save ourselves some aching muscles.”
“What would be the fun in that?” Paul said. “Come on, old man.”
Matthew sighed and let himself settle to the fact he would be running his tenth Boston Marathon in the spring. He’d run it for Shannon. Becky could get him a shirt made with Boston Marathon #10 printed on it. Maybe when the marathon was over he’d wash and press the shirt, frame it, and hang it on the wall—a nice marker for a chapter in his life—and maybe hang up his running shoes beside the shirt. Then he’d take up swimming, as it was easier on the knees. The idea of vacations for the next twenty years spent near a beach, so he could share a swim with Shannon had some definite appeal. And who had just planted that idea in his head?
“Why the smile?” Bryce asked.
“I just realized Shannon was planning ahead again,” Matthew replied. She’d invited him to share her love of the water, had slipped in the invitation without him knowing it. He wondered how far ahead she was planning. Three kids. That he would like too. But soon, since he didn’t want to be seventy and watching a son’s high school graduation.
Matthew huffed out a small laugh and went to find his gym bag. If Shannon chose him, they were going to have a very nice life together. He’d let her plan, and then he’d do the asking when the time was right. He’d find out what that fifth item on her list was—about Christmas Eve and New Year’s Eve. He knew a good thing when it came and found him.