32

After Nick made sure the house and property were safe, he helped Emily unload the boxes from her car. They worked in tandem without so much as a word to each other.

“I doubt you’re being followed. But keep the doors shut and locked,” he said, setting down the last box. “Call if you hear or see anything. Got it?”

Emily felt uneasy being home alone now.

“Thank you,” she managed, then locked the door behind Nick.

Nick went back to his patrol car without a glance in her direction. Emily shrugged it off and headed into the kitchen.

She fished bread, meat, and cheese from the fridge, smelling it to confirm it was still edible. She slapped her sandwich together and stood in the kitchen. She was too antsy to sit at the table. After playing the scene back in her mind, Emily conceded that Nick was right. It was road rage. Her imagination and emotions had been in overdrive. She needed rest.

So she slept. And holed herself up in the house. And poured herself into organizing her father’s things. By midweek, Emily was tired of being alone in the house and looking at what her dad had left behind. She dialed Jo’s number.

All she could hear were three kid voices yelling at the top of their lungs in the background. “I’m about to pull my hair out—or theirs. Kids. Outside. Now!” said Jo.

The screams and laughs dissipated as Emily heard Jo open the slider door to let three rambunctious kids out to the backyard.

“It sounds like you’re preoccupied. I can call back later.”

“No, Em. It’s okay. Hearing your voice is sanity to my soul.”

Jeremiah Blakely, Jo’s ten-year-old son, screamed an order to one of his younger sisters to “Gimme that!”

“Jeremiah! Give that back to your sister!” yelled Jo. “Go play outside. Now.”

“Hey, go deal with that. I’ll call you later.”

“No. They’ll work it out. What’s going on?”

Emily heard the slider door close and latch. Jo had had it! “I was wondering if that offer is still on the table for some help with my dad’s things.”

“Of course. You want me to come over now?”

“You sure? Sounds like you have your hands full.”

“No. Now. I need a break now,” Jo’s frazzled voice begged.

“Bring the kids. They can play outside. Or we can give them a rake and they can make leaf piles.”

“No way. Paul may not be living here at the moment, but he’s not off the hook for fatherhood. It’s his turn.”

Emily could hear a small fist pounding on the sliding door and the middle daughter, Jessica’s, muffled whine from the other side of the glass, “Mom! Jaden won’t let me—” Jaden was Jo’s youngest daughter of four going on fourteen.

“Jessica, you march right back into that yard and push your sister on the swing.”

“Quick. Call Paul!” Emily laughed. “Get out of there while you still can.”

“I’m on it. Give me thirty.”

“I’ll get a bottle of red breathing.”

Emily smiled as she ended the call. She wolfed down the last few bites of her sandwich and glanced around the kitchen. She would commit to staying in Freeport through the holidays. That would give her enough time to figure out next steps. And in the meantime, she would fight for Sandi Parkman as she saw fit. Sandi deserved justice. Her mom deserved retribution. And Freeport needed this black mark erased from its history. Nick, Paul, and the pack would have to find their own way to make amends for their sins.