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Ann wandered down Forest Parkway, the main thoroughfare through town, and marveled at the complete lack of change. How were some of these shops still open? Mrs. Baker’s Scrapbook Store, Mike’s Shoe Repair, Mullen’s Bait & Tackle. In high school she joked about the shops being fronts for drug operations or money laundering. After being in law enforcement for the past fifteen years, it actually made sense.
She briefly wondered who from high school had stayed, who else had left, which old lifers had died. What events happened in her absence that would live on in infamy, like the Billy Rogers incident of ’99, Carl Conrad’s dog from ’58, and the fire of 1912?
Harmony was a town that never forgot.
The streets were empty. The town folk were all probably still at work this time of day, but the general absence of people gave her goosebumps. A thought that everyone had abandoned the place crawled through her mind.
She left that thought at the door when she entered Mac’s Diner, the town’s only real restaurant. It was full of the early supper crowd. White hair at every booth. Ruthie Gill, a girl Ann went to high school with, almost dropped her coffee pot when she spotted Ann in the doorway.
“Ann Logan? Is it really you?” she said with a huge smile. Though they hadn’t been close in high school, she hugged Ann, then turned to the dining room. “Ann’s home!”
All the guests looked up from their greasy meals and clapped. Some even stood. A sharp whistle came from the back of the restaurant. She wasn’t a war hero. She wasn’t a hero at all. Surely, they read the paper.
Heat flushed across her clavicle and instantly cooled. She peeled off her coat, hung it on the coat rack by the front door, and pushed her sleeves up.
She glanced at the exit. But she couldn’t allow the creeping anxiety to turn her into a hermit.
“You can sit wherever you want.” Ruthie touched Ann’s arm. “We’re not that fancy.”
“Can I just get a sandwich to go?” Ann asked. “Chicken salad if you have it?”
Ruthie nodded.
Ann willed her internal thermostat to function properly. Cold and heat chased each other through her core. She ignored the faces beaming around her by alternately looking at the old stained carpet and up at the ceiling tiles.
Ruthie came back. “Bobby’s on it. He makes damn good chicken salad.”
“Hey . . . have you seen my dad?” Ann asked.
Ruthie turned to her, mouth open to answer the question, but someone across the restaurant cried out. Ruthie shoved the half-empty coffee pot into Ann’s hand and rushed to the scene. Ann peeked around a divider.
Ruthie patted an old lady’s back. “Don’t worry, it’s just water.” She dropped a stack of napkins on the spill. Then brought the lady a fresh glass and went into the kitchen.
Ann briefly wondered why they hadn’t been friends in high school and remembered Ruthie had been the type who drifted from clique to clique, except for the more exclusive ones. Like the jocks and cheerleaders. Ann hung out with the jocks, but not the cheerleaders. She always felt more like one of the guys than one of the girls.
Ruthie came back and retrieved the coffee pot. “I know I’m grinning like an idiot, but we’re all so proud of you,” she said. “Our own being the one to catch the killer.”
“My partner caught tons of bad guys last year,” Ann said and took in a quick breath. No training could ever prepare a cop for notifying next of kin, or how grief or pride could be overshadowed by blame. By guilt. Bruce’s wife never forgave her.
“I’m sorry about what happened to him.” Ruthie touched Ann’s arm again. “I’m sure folks back in his home are damn proud of him, too.” She nodded solemnly. “I’ll go check on your sandwich.” She hurried off.
Ann went outside and chuffed her boots against the sidewalk. The cool air chased the anxious heat from her body. She rubbed her arms.
“Hey, Magnum PI!” an all-too-familiar voice shouted. Ann looked up. Derrick Hart peered at her from across the street. “Ha! I knew that was you!”
Fifteen years had passed, but it was like she’d left him yesterday. A giddy feeling trembled in her gut. She wanted to ignore him or run back into the restaurant or hide in the bushes, but it was too late. She suddenly didn’t know how to stand normally. She tucked her hands into her pockets. Derrick trotted over and opened his arms. Ann grabbed his hand and shook it.
“What . . . a handshake?” He pulled her into an awkward hug. Then he pushed back and held her by the shoulders at arm’s length. His dark eyes darted all over her face as if taking inventory to make sure she still had two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
Eye contact didn’t feel natural. “If it isn’t Doogie Howser,” she said, a slight waver in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d still be here.” She didn’t know what else to say.
Derrick released her and ran his left hand through his hair, messing it up. He’d done that all through high school too. She used to love it for some odd reason. Until she didn’t. Until everything she loved about him became annoying.
The sun glinted off his wedding band.
“I came back.” He shrugged.
“Your wife let you drag her here?” Ann laughed because it seemed like the right thing to do, but it sounded as fake as it felt. He looked at his left hand and crossed his arms as if to hide it. “Who’d you end up with, anyway?”
“No one from here,” he said. “After you left . . . me . . . I . . . uh . . . had to split town too.” He looked at anything but her. “So I went to med school, got married, had . . . a kid . . .” The words rushed out and then tapered off. He glanced at her, then back at the ground, and rubbed the back of his neck—his tell for discomfort. He was just as nervous at seeing her as she was at seeing him.
“What about you?” he asked. “Take the plunge?” His face flushed.
Ann shook her head. When she moved away right after high school graduation it shocked everyone in town. They all thought she and Derrick would be together forever. Everyone had some predetermined life picked out for her, trapping her here in a place where potential got stunted. So she’d left and hadn’t been in a serious relationship since.
“Married to my career,” she said.
“Me, too.” Derrick’s lips momentarily frowned, then smiled again. “Hey, I opened my own clinic here in town.” He waved vaguely over his shoulder. Ann glanced that way. The Post Office and Sheriff’s Department were on the same block.
“That’s great. Hey, have you by chance seen my dad lately?”
To treat a bloody stump perhaps?
The diner door pushed open, the bells clattering against the glass. Ruthie came out juggling a paper bag in one hand, a to-go cup of coffee in the other, and Ann’s jacket tucked under one arm. She halted briefly and smiled at the two of them while the door banged shut.
“Oh, you two,” she said in a gosh-oh-gee voice. Ann took a step away from Derrick. Ruthie looked back and forth at them. She opened her mouth to say something, but Ann intervened.
“See you around,” Ann said to them both. She took the items from Ruthie and hurried across the street to the Sheriff’s Department.