Hadley had been sitting on her front porch swing, looking at her phone, for fifteen minutes. Her thumb twitched, never quite touching the keypad. Should she call or should she not call? On the one hand, she didn’t want to sound like she was seeking him out. It had only been two weeks since she had last seen him at the fair, after all. She didn’t miss talking with him, and she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. On the other hand, in all the discussion at the station, no one had mentioned letting him know. Chief Van Alstyne had been Flynn’s first boss. He had shaped Flynn into the cop he was today.
What finally decided her was the realization she could just leave a message. As far as she knew, he was still undercover with the carnival; they had left Washington County far behind and were in some other part of the state by now, welcoming Friday crowds. She hit his number. It rang, and rang, and rang. Oh, crap, she thought. What if he’s changed it?
“Hadley?” He sounded out of breath.
“Uh. Flynn. Hi. I didn’t expect to actually reach you.” There was an awkward silence. “Are you, uh, busy? With the carnival? Is it okay to talk?” She sounded like a preteen calling a boy for the first time. Now would be the perfect moment for Millers Kill to have its first drive-by shooting, with herself as the victim.
“I’m back in Syracuse. They pulled me off the case.”
“What?” She sat up straighter, setting the swing rocking. “Why?”
“I don’t know. Some interagency bullshit. I was so freaking close I could taste it. I had a contact, he had introduced me to a couple other guys, they were talking about something big going down at the end of the season, and now, boom. Nothing. An entire summer freaking wasted. Plus I felt like crap when I had to tell Mr. Hill I was leaving.”
She couldn’t help it, she laughed.
“It’s not funny!”
“It’s not the case getting taken away from you, it’s just—Flynn, only you would feel bad about leaving your fake boss in the lurch.”
“The show has a lot of gigs through the beginning of October! It’s not easy finding a jointy for one month. And I was good at it.” She could hear him sigh. “It doesn’t matter now. That’s what’s so damn frustrating. All that work for nothing.”
“I’m sorry.” She found she really was. He may have been an awful boyfriend, but he was a good cop, and for that, he deserved better. “Do they want you for another undercover assignment?”
“No. They want me to drive around off-campus housing and pick up drunk university students. I’ve asked for a meeting with the captain about it. I mean, I want to be a good soldier and all but what I was doing was a lot more important—” He broke off. “Hadley, why are you calling me? Is there more news about the lawsuit?”
Now they had come to what she wanted to tell him, she didn’t know what to say. “No. It’s the chief.”
“Oh, God. He wasn’t—”
“No, no, no, he’s fine. Perfectly healthy. But Flynn … he’s resigning.”
“What?”
“To hopefully save the department. We had a meeting about it this afternoon.” Picturing the chief standing in his usual spot made her throat feel tight. “He cut a deal. He resigns, and the Algonquin Waters pays the town enough money to keep the force going.”
“I can’t believe it.” There was a long pause. Finally, Flynn said, “Do you think … could it have had something to do with the lawsuit?”
“God, I hope not.” She had wondered the same thing herself, but had been too much of a coward to bring it up during the question-and-answer period after the chief’s announcement.
“When is he leaving?”
“Not until after the election.”
“They’re still having the question on the ballot? Why?”
“Some legal thing. The town’s going to send out information to all the voters, letting them know what’s changed. We just have to wait and see if they pick the staties anyway. In which case, we’re all out of a job.”
“God. I can’t imagine the department without him.”
“I know.” She braced her bare feet against the wooden porch railing.
“Maybe I should come over there.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know,” he snapped. “To see if I can do something. Maybe if I plead guilty to the drug thing—”
“It’s a civil suit, Flynn, you don’t plead guilty.”
“You know what I mean.”
Yes. She did. Her neighbor across the street came out of her side door with her dog, and set off toward the old cemetery. “Listen. I thought of doing the same thing myself. Like, if I walked away, maybe the trouble would walk away with me. But I don’t think there’s anything either of us can really do. It’s about money, Flynn, and they have it and we don’t.”
He snorted. “That’s for sure.”
There was a long pause. The fading end-of-the-day shadows merged with the violet twilight. It was getting dark earlier these days. School had started back up. Summer was over.
“Anyway.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I thought you ought to know.”
“Yeah. Thank you.”
“Good luck with talking to your captain. I hope you get a better assignment.”
“Thanks.”
She waited. For what, she didn’t know. It wasn’t like he was going to start apologizing. “Okay, well—”
“Look, can I call you? After the election? Just to, you know, find out what’s going on?”
She blinked. “Okay. Sure.”
“Good. I’ll talk to you in November. Thanks again for letting me know.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Bye, I guess.”
“Bye.”
She sat out for some time on the porch swing, rocking to and fro. Some evenings, it made her feel comfortable. Cocooned. Tonight … she watched her neighbor bring the dog back in. They waved across the street. Tonight it felt like an unmoored boat, swinging with the tide, lost at sea.