ABBY PRAYED about her meeting with Althea. She wasn’t sure what the woman could want with her, but she knew it was the right thing to accept the invitation.

Grounds Bakery & Café was one of Abby’s favorites, but she didn’t make it to the shop on Spring Street often. Abby arrived early and ordered coffee, hoping that by having it in hand, and already sipped, her nerves would settle.

She took a seat in a corner where she could look out the window and saw Althea arrive. There was a man with her, and Abby tensed. Was this some kind of setup?

The couple stopped at the curb and seemed to be arguing. Althea was insisting he stay outside —Abby could discern that much by her gestures —while the man was trying to keep her from going inside. A lot of hand gestures and angry expressions went back and forth before Althea turned away from the man. Was he the lawyer, Freeman? Abby had never seen the man, so she didn’t know. But Althea left him standing there fuming and strode into the bakery.

Abby stood and the woman saw her immediately. Althea was a striking woman. Adonna had looked like her mother. Smooth chocolate-brown skin; tall, lean frame; she’d played professional basketball and moved purposefully, like an athlete. But her lean frame was thinner today, painfully thin.

Her features were set in pain —Abby could see that and almost feel it when the woman saw her. She pointed to the coffee counter, and Abby understood she was going to purchase a beverage. Nodding, Abby sat down in her chair again, fiddled with her coffee cup, and worked to stay relaxed. People in pain were dangerous; she knew that and fought the jolting urge to leave, to say this was a bad idea.

A few minutes later Althea arrived at the table and sat across from Abby. She was silent for a moment and sipped her coffee. She shifted in her chair and looked up. “Thank you for meeting me, Detective Hart.”

“Please, it’s Abby.” She gestured to the man outside, who was still there, pacing and occasionally looking their way. “I take it that man didn’t want you to meet me.”

“No. That’s my brother. He can’t forgive you. He wants me to sue, to get you fired.” A muscle jumped in her jaw, and she set the cup down, looking toward her brother. “Part of me can’t forgive either. It hurts. I’ve lost my family.”

Abby paid no attention to the threats of lawsuits or of a firing. Althea’s pain was too obvious, her struggle too apparent. Abby felt it across the table, and a lump rose in her throat.

“If there were anything I could have done differently, I would have done it,” Abby said, voice thick.

“I try to put myself in your place.” Voice breaking, Althea drew in a breath. “I hate what happened, but I can’t hate you.” A tear rolled down her cheek; bracelets clanked on her wrist as she swiped it away. “I know you did your job. It’s not just forgiving you I struggle with; it’s forgiving Clayton as well. He never should have rushed out there like he did.” She paused to blow her nose and looked Abby in the eye. “I’ve been on my knees in prayer about this. I know I will see my baby girl and my man again in heaven someday. I also know I can’t honor their memory if I stay bitter and angry like my brother. I hurt worse than I ever thought I could hurt and still be standing. I needed to look you in the eye and say that I forgive you.” She reached her hand across the table and gripped Abby’s. “It’s only by saying it that maybe, one day, I’ll feel it.”

Abby couldn’t stop her own tears from falling as she held Althea’s hand. “I’m so sorry. I thank you, Althea; I do.”

“Don’t thank me. Thank the Lord we both serve. The Lord can and does bring good out of the bad, the painful. And I know that you know my hurt. My prayer for you is that you keep working for those like my Adonna, to make sure we are safe, even if you run into more people like Clayton who can’t wait for justice and try their own way.”

“I promise you that I will.” With those words, and the burning in her throat and eyes, Abby resolved never to run and hide from the work she did. Her calling was law enforcement, and she gritted her teeth and vowed to remember the most important thing: being a voice for those who couldn’t speak, catching killers. Even through the tears she knew her vision was clearing.