56

“Delia told me that Pepper Cave Construction has decided to donate the Parkman parcel to the community and turn it into Parkman Playground. Complete with a swing set, slide, sandbox, picnic tables. There’s even going to be a memorial garden planted for Sandi,” said Emily as she and Nick walked hand in hand through the frozen cemetery a week later. She was grateful that a place of peace had been preserved in Sandi’s honor. A place where community could be nurtured. Where neighbors could get to know one another. Watch out for one another.

“Paul asked if we wanted to join them for a bite to eat afterwards,” said Nick.

“Sounds good.”

Nick gripped Emily’s arm as they made their way through the packed snow to the grave. They were officially a couple. Doing couple things. Like going to funerals. And dinners with friends. And planning for Christmas in two weeks.

“Do you think any of the other pack members will be here?” asked Emily.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Nick caught Emily’s cold glance.

“They deserve jail time,” Emily said, burn in her voice.

“They’re not exactly off the hook yet.”

Good. “It’s going to be a while before I can forgive and forget.”

“You forgave me.”

“You were repentant.”

“More than you know,” said Nick in a tone that revealed his heavy heart. “There’s something I still need to do. And I don’t know how it will affect my future. Our future.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

As they wound up a small hill that led to Sandi’s grave site, Emily noticed how the sky had cleared and the sun warmed the earth, melting patches of snow. She looked ahead and was surprised to see trails of people heading toward Sandi’s burial plot.

“This is incredible,” she exclaimed. “I had no idea so many people would turn out.”

“Between the police department and Delia’s campaign, we raised over ten thousand dollars to give Sandi a proper memorial,” said Nick.

“I’m stunned. The park. Now this.”

“Small towns at their best.”

Emily smiled and hugged Nick to her.

Emily and Nick made their way to Delia, who had already arrived and reserved a few spaces for them near the casket.

“Thank you for making this possible,” Emily said to Delia.

“That’s what we do, doll.” She looped her arm through Emily’s. “I’m hosting a reception at Brown’s after the service. Spread the word.”

A pastor dressed in a parka and heavy gloves stood at the head of the grave as several hundred mourners formed a giant crescent around Sandi’s gravesite. Dotted through the crowd, Emily noticed a few members of the pack standing solemnly with dutiful spouses or significant others at their sides.

Emily shifted her gaze to Sandi Parkman’s casket and was saddened that Mrs. Parkman could not be here. She had suffered a minor stroke the day after receiving the news about Tiffani and was in the hospital.

No mother and no sister to send a daughter home. But in their places, an incredibly compassionate community of people who would not let this unspeakable tragedy remain blemished with misery and suffering.

At that moment, Emily renewed the vow she had internalized as a junior coroner watching her father. If there was anything she could do to prevent lives from ending like Sandi’s, she would seek to do it. It was essential to send the message that justice would be served. Everyone’s life had importance and significance. No one was disposable. No matter where they came from or what ill fortunes they got tangled into.

For the next hour, under the high December sun, she and Nick stood hand in hand as the pastor gave his prayers and message. When he finished, he asked if anyone else had words to offer. Nick’s hand slipped from Emily’s as he stepped up right away to the head of Sandi’s casket. From the periphery, she saw the members of the pack trickle up to the front. Paul. Ross. Landry. Brett. Rick.

They gathered in silence, and Nick stepped forward to address the town.

“What I’m about to say is hard, but it has to be said. As your sheriff. As a son of this community. As Sandi’s friend. Over the years, you have all heard secret whisperings about Sandi’s life. We were part of the urban legends and stand before you today to confirm that, unfortunately, they were true. By manner of omission, I played a part in what happened to Sandi. I want to ask your forgiveness. I stood by when I knew Sandi was being abused and suffering and I did nothing.” He paused to clear the catch in his throat.

“I should have intervened. I should have confronted James. I should have stepped up and said something to her mom, to teachers. I should have gone to the police. There are a million things I should have done to save her. But I didn’t. And I’m deeply sorry for my inaction and what it caused.”

The next words came with calculated purpose.

“Freeport deserves a better role model for your sheriff. You need to start this next chapter with a clean slate. So, I’m stepping down.”

An audible gasp escaped from Emily, joining the shocked expressions of everyone around her. She glanced at Jo, whose face registered her own surprise at the announcement as she reached for Emily’s hand.

Nick then stepped up to Sandi’s casket. Emily watched spellbound as he silently mouthed long sentences full of emotion. Little changed in his body movements, but she saw his lips quiver and a tear escape. He brushed it away with his sleeve and set a bouquet of yellow roses on her casket.

After he stepped back in line with the others, one by one, the rest of the pack members made their public confessions. But Emily could barely concentrate on their words.

When they were finished, Nick led them away from the grave site, and they trailed down the hill and out of sight.

Soon, small clusters of families and couples peeled away from the grave in complete silence as they all pondered what they had just witnessed. Emily stood frozen in place, hand in hand with Jo.

When they were finally able to remove themselves from Sandi’s grave, Emily and Jo walked together to the main drive to join Nick, Paul, and a few other friends, who they could see flocked together talking.

Emily glanced up the hill to a barren maple tree that overlooked the west section of the cemetery.

“I’ll be right back,” she told Jo, breaking away.

“Want some company?”

“No, it’s okay.”

Her parents shared a gravestone under the maple tree where her father’s date of death had been recently chiseled in. She brushed the snow that had collected on top and stood there looking at it, still finding it hard to believe that her father had passed just weeks ago.

“Hey … so, I was just in the neighborhood … couple plots down,” she started, finding her voice. “It’s a pretty interesting story. For another time. Just thought I would catch you up. Um … Brandon and I are not engaged anymore … but it’s okay. Better a broken engagement than a messy divorce. Right?”

She paused, imagining that her mother would be nodding her head in agreement right now as she fired a million questions at her. Are you sure? What makes you so sure? Is this something you might regret five years from now? How did Brandon take it?

Emily laughed a little to herself.

“Yes, Mom. I’m sure. And no, I’m not going to regret it.”

She searched her brain for what to say next.

“Oh, yes … how could I forget? Anna! We found each other. You would really like her, Dad. She’s smart and witty like you. But has a dry, sparse humor. Like you’re not sure if she’s joking. But then you realize she is … and she’s really sweet too. A total hostess. Like Mom. And her girls … your granddaughters are darling. We’re becoming family. So thank you. For her. I just wish … you would have told us a little sooner.” Her throat caught and she swallowed hard. Tears began to form warm trails down her cheeks and neck. She let them come.

Sounds of friendly laughter across the cemetery drew her back to where Nick and his friends were huddled. Nick’s gaze left the group and caught hers. His smile absorbed a piece of her sadness as she turned her gaze back to the gravestone.

“Oh, in other news, I’ve almost finished packing up the house. Mom, don’t worry. I’m keeping all your bakeware. I’ve made like four apple pies since I’ve been home. Of course, they taste nothing like yours. But I’ll keep practicing.” She laughed to herself and could hear her father butting in to inquire about more serious matters—like her plans.

“My plans? Yes, my plans. Dr. Claiborne offered to sell me his practice. But I’m going to decline. I’m not ready to make any big decisions. One-year rule, remember?”

She cracked a small smile, thinking about Cathy Bishop wearing a sombrero and drinking margaritas. They were all going to be okay. In their own time.

“I’m gonna go now.” It came out all raspy. “Don’t worry. I won’t wait another twelve years to visit. Love you both.”

Emily padded from the grave, head lowered to the ground. When she stepped onto the pavement and looked up, Nick was just feet away from her with an outstretched hand.