LUKE DROPPED WOODY off at Abby’s house.

“Call me when you need a ride home,” he said as Woody stepped out of the truck.

“I will,” Woody said. “I don’t mind hanging out here for a while. Abby will need someone to talk to. Call before you come.”

Luke said he would, then headed home to his family, wondering how things had gone so right for him and Woody and so wrong for Abby and Bill. He got home in time for dinner and to catch a news report on the shooting. There were the usual inane comments by people and reporters asking why Abby didn’t just shoot the gun out of the man’s hand. The criticisms and second-guessing by people who’d never been in a life-and-death situation made Luke angry, and the outrage he heard in the voices of the anchor regarding a victim’s father being shot stoked the flames. There were even pictures of crowds forming in front of the police station to protest Abby. He had to retire to his office and throw a couple punches at the heavy bag to calm down.

In the end, it wasn’t the heavy bag that calmed him; it was the knowledge that Abby was a believer and that the foundation of her life shouldn’t rest on what reporters and onlookers had to say.

He called Woody after dinner, but Abby still hadn’t made it home.

“Don’t read anything into that,” Woody said. “The process after a shooting like this is long and involved. When I spoke to Bill a little while ago, he said Abby was talking to the department psychologist, which is a good thing.”

“I agree. I can’t imagine being in her shoes. I’ll head over after Maddie goes to bed.”

“Sounds good, and if you can stop and pick me up a burger or something, I’d appreciate it.”

“Will do.”

“Is your friend Abby in trouble?” Maddie asked as Luke sat down with his daughter for bedtime prayer. The question took him by surprise because he didn’t think she was paying attention to the news broadcast.

“No, she’s not in trouble, Mads, but she had to shoot someone today.”

“Did the person die?”

“Afraid so.”

“But Abby and Bill are okay.”

“Yes, they are.”

“I’m glad. But sometimes I wish there were no bad people in the world. Then people wouldn’t have to get shot.”

“I wish that too,” Luke said. He kissed her good night and then went to package up the dinner his mother had set aside for him to take to Woody. Luke had mentioned that Woody asked for food, and Grace, who hated fast food, insisted that Luke take some of her casserole to him.

Luke and Woody were set to fly to Idaho tomorrow to fulfill the last wishes of Woody’s old patrol partner, Asa Foster. Coincidentally, Asa had also worked with Abby in the twilight years of his career. It was time to nail down the fine points of their itinerary. But Luke wondered if Woody would want to cancel the trip because of the shooting. When he considered how hard this must be for Abby, he knew he’d be fine with it if that was what Woody wanted to do. Luke called to let Woody know that he was on his way.

“She’s not home yet. I spoke to her on the phone a couple of hours ago. Maybe you should hang out with me as well. She didn’t sound too great.”

“It probably wouldn’t be a good thing for her to come home to an empty house on a day like this.” Luke worked to sound nonchalant, but he was happy Woody had asked him to hang out.

“You’re right. I never discharged my weapon on duty, but I know guys who have. It’s not easy, and in this case . . . well, it’s not so black-and-white.”

“Um, is —is Ethan there?”

“No. I spoke to him as well. He said she told him not to come by, that she was tired. Just between you and me and the fence post, I don’t think everything is going too well with those two.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Luke said, wanting to pry but not wanting to pry. It was really none of his business. But his concern for Abby made him ask the next question. “Do you think she’d mind if I were there?”

“I’d kind of like your company. You and her speak the same God talk; you might be able to help her more than me. She’s taking this hard.”

That surprised Luke. He’d spent quite a bit of time with Woody recently. He knew Woody was not a Christian. Other than mentioning the man upstairs from time to time, and letting Luke pray now and then, Woody had never made a statement either positive or negative about Abby’s faith or faith in general.

“I’d love to try to help. You should be able to tell if I can help or if we should leave her alone. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Abby knew Woody’s car would not be in her driveway. He’d told her that Luke had dropped him off. But when she recognized the truck parked at the curb in front of her house, it gave her pause.

Luke Murphy’s truck.

She wanted to see Woody, and she wanted to hug her dog, Bandit, but she wasn’t sure about Murphy. The man always seemed to be able to see right through her. Right now she wasn’t certain she wanted to be transparent. Sighing, she parked in front of her garage and climbed out of the car.

Woody opened the front door and Abby could have kissed him. He let little Bandit run out and greet her. Picking up the wiggling fur ball and holding his squirming, licking body was a comforting normality on a totally abnormal day.

“Oh, sweetie,” Abby cooed to the dog. “It’s wonderful to see you.” She continued up to the front door. “You too, Woody. Thanks for taking care of Bandit.”

“My pleasure.”

He held the door open for her, and a wonderful aroma hit her as she stepped inside.

Luke smiled at her from the kitchen. “My mom sent me over with food for Woody. I figured you’d be hungry as well, so I brought extra. It’s her potato and ham casserole. I’m heating some up for you.”

Words fled. Abby was hungry; her stomach growled even as she inhaled the wonderful smell. She’d totally forgotten that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and the fact that Luke and his mother so perfectly anticipated what she’d need touched her.

Swallowing, she set Bandit down. “I’m starved; thank you,” she said when she stood back up.

“It’s great stuff,” Woody said, rubbing his stomach.

Abby smiled, thankful for her friends and realizing that having them both here was helpful. “I’ll just go wash my hands.”

“Dinner will be served as soon as you’re back,” Luke said.

Feeling better as she sat down in front of a plate of steaming, creamy, wonderful-smelling food, Abby bowed her head for a blessing. When she finished and took a bite, she had to admit the meal was heavenly.

“Mmm, this is great. Please thank your mom for me.”

“Will do.” Luke sat across from Abby, next to Woody.

Abby ate while Luke and Woody discussed their trip to Idaho the next day. They planned to be gone for three days and hoped to wrap everything up quickly. Asa had left his house in trust, so the estate was not complicated. He’d also left detailed instructions about the dispersal of his personal belongings.

They both shared the story of their arrest in Riverside, Luke acting like a careless bungler, which she knew that he wasn’t, and Woody puffed with pride about still being able to be sneaky. That she knew was true. He had taught her the art of being sneaky when you needed to get the drop on a bad guy.

“I wish all tips panned out that way,” Luke said after he finished.

“Amen to that,” Abby said, feeling full, tired, and somewhat better. “I hope you continue to get that lucky when you’re working with the feds.”

Woody preened. “It’s not all luck, you know. Haven’t I taught you that hard work and perseverance makes luck?”

“Of course.” Abby smiled and felt it. She didn’t miss Luke smothering a chuckle.

“What are you going to do with your time off this week?” Woody asked, referring to the mandatory three days off given to any officer involved in a shooting.

She could tell he was concerned. Woody had the best cop face when dealing with suspects, but Abby often saw through him.

She drained her glass of water before answering. “I have another appointment with the psychologist tomorrow. Coincidentally Ethan and I have a counseling appointment on Thursday.” She played with her glass. “Who knows? I may do a little goldbricking and try to take Friday off as well —a six-day vacation.” A weak smile was all she could muster for the lame joke.

“You did your job,” Luke said, repeating what Bill had already told her. “Joiner made the wrong choice, not you.”

He’d read her again and knew she was struggling over her actions. Clayton made the wrong choice, and I made the hard choice. Abby just nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

His gaze was so warm and filled with understanding, Abby almost wished it were just the two of them and she could rest her head on his broad, strong shoulder. Almost. Guilt niggled at her as she remembered Ethan’s sincere prayer; it was his shoulder she should be wanting.

Later, with Luke and Woody gone, she pulled down a package of Oreos and her Bible. The cookies went down easy, but the Bible didn’t hold her attention. So much swirled inside. Luke’s comfort, his concern, was somewhat bracing, even more so than Woody’s knowledge and his sage advice, and that surprised her. But it was something she didn’t want to add to her list of concerns at the moment.

She finished half a glass of milk and four cookies, then took a shower and went to bed. Sleep came, after a struggle with the image of Clayton Joiner lying on the lawn, bleeding, seemingly etched on her eyelids.