Chapter Thirty-Two

Growing up, Eliot battled hard. Life was like climbing a mountain in a blizzard. He would reach a certain point and then turn back, but not so this time. He had finally reached the summit, and he couldn’t be happier. Even the social worker supported Raine moving to Baxley. Telling Pratt he was resigning from the NYPD wasn’t easy, but he did it. After tearing him a new one, ranting about being blindsided, and blaming Zak Ahmadi, Pratt settled down.

“Getting engaged and raising your sister are the best decisions you’ve ever made with your sorry ass.”

A goofy grin spread across Eliot’s face. “Thanks, sir.”

“After all the grief you put me through, I want a wedding invitation.”

“Consider it done.”

“I imagine Ahmadi will be there.

“That better not be a problem for you.” Eliot would not allow the rift between Pratt and Zak to ruin Quinn’s special day.

“The missus will ensure I behave, but you tell Ahmadi there’s no more poaching my people.”

Zak Ahmadi was an NYPD legend. His departure left a big hole in the Counterterrorism Bureau. There was even a rumor that Pratt was grooming his protege to take over, but Zak pulled the plug on a policing career. He earned decent money working from home doing foreign language translations.

Eliot, however, preferred law enforcement. He loved being a cop. What he no longer enjoyed were the never-ending uncertainties of undercover assignments. Infiltrating terrorist cells and not knowing when he would get home weighed heavily on him. He had a sister who counted on him and a woman he loved more than life itself.

Risks still existed with what he would be doing in Baxley, and he swore he’d never become complacent, but statistically, the odds were better. Becoming a small-town sheriff wasn’t done in haste. Taking Raine away from Paula and Malcolm had bothered Eliot so much that he almost withdrew his application, but Paula wouldn’t stand for it. She made a big fuss, refusing to speak to him until he conceded. He didn’t understand until Malcolm took him aside.

“She’d tar my ass for saying this,” the older man had said.

“Saying what?”

“She doesn’t sleep when you’re on assignment. She never has. She lost one son. We both did. So don’t screw this up, Eliot. You go and get this job. Crazy stuff happens in small towns, but it’s not a tenth of what happens in New York. My wife deserves to sleep through the night.”

Causing Paula so much stress pained Eliot, but he appreciated Malcolm’s honesty.

“I’ll go,” he had told Malcolm, “but if I get the job and move, promise you won’t argue when I spring for you guys to visit us.”

The Wilsons opened their home and their hearts. They showed him a life that wouldn’t have been possible had he stayed with Carly. It was high time he showed his appreciation. He would fly them out every two months, and in between, he’d visit New York. Quinn would enjoy catching up with Gabby, and he’d call up Omeir. Someone had to ensure Omeir didn’t make a fool of himself with Safia.

Quinn had planned to work for Beloved Re-Creations from Baxley, but she announced branching out on her own last week. She smugly claimed the garage as hers. Once her work took off, he’d inquire about leasing a commercial site for her—a building with ample room for both a studio and a retail store. Then he’d remove the floral curtains in the garage and get a billiard table.