Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Because my mother planted them there.
I’m admiring this earliest sign of spring when Dillon’s sedan moves slowly up the driveway. Familiar tension slides into my body as I prepare for verbal combat.
Isla is behind the wheel. She hops out and moves fast for her bag as Dillon exits the passenger seat. “See you this weekend!”
“Hey!” He comes around the front of the car, still dressed in a button-down and slacks. “Where’s my hug!”
Isla reluctantly doubles back, offering him a limp, quick embrace before darting up the stairs.
“Wow. That’s all I get?” he hollers but his expression is soft as he watches her vanish behind the door.
“Did she eat?” I ask.
“She did. Donna made that chicken dish she loves so much.”
I smile. That was my father’s famous secret casserole. The first time Isla came home and told me that Donna had served it, I wanted to storm their kitchen and reclaim the recipe. I was so furious with Dillon for passing on my family secrets. But now I see it for what it was—Donna’s attempt to bring my child comfort. “And sleep?”
“As much as any teenager does, I guess?” He shrugs. “I poked my head in and heard snoring.”
“Good.” Okay, then. “Has she heard anything yet? About Jack Barrow?”
Dillon shakes his head. He knows about the warrant. I told him.
I breathe a sigh of relief, though there’s none to be found in the situation. If Terry and Schmidt got a judge to sign off, it’s because they found cause. “Have a good night.” I move for the steps.
“You had to distance yourself from Holly’s case?” Dillon stoops to pet Duke’s head, ignoring my dismissal.
I’d ask where he heard that, but frankly, I don’t care. “Honest to God, if you are here to lecture or otherwise give me grief—”
“It was the right thing to do,” he interrupts. “Given how close you are to all of them.”
“Oh.” Not the calm and mature response I was expecting. “Yeah, well, the sooner they figure this out, the better.” And the sooner people stop looking at Logan for it. But if, God forbid, Jack has something to do with Holly’s death, it won’t matter that Logan’s cleared. Not for some people around here. He’ll be guilty by association, by bloodline.
And my days as detachment commander will certainly be coming to an end.
“I agree.” Dillon takes a deep breath. “You deserve to be happy, Emery. I really hope you can be.”
I frown at his sudden cordial attitude. “Are you dying?”
He chuckles. “No, I’m just … trying to look at things differently. You’re willing to risk your reputation for him. I guess that means something. There’s not much I can do to help you—”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Right. Well, have a good night. Tell Sarah good luck with the girls. They’ve gotta be due soon.”
I offer a delayed “I will,” and watch Dillon’s car crawl away, baffled. I expected him to be spewing threats and warnings. This was more unsettling.
Isla barrels out the door, having changed into her sweats. “Annie invited us for apple pie.”
I hum. Annie knows that’s Isla’s favorite.
And I know Annie bakes pies and texts people to come over to eat them when she’s stressed. It’s akin to sending up the Bat-Signal. I don’t blame her. With the warrant out to search Jack’s things, we’re all worried.
I fall into step beside Isla as we slog across the muddy, brown field in the waning light, our rubber boots sinking into the softening earth with each step. The days are growing long quickly again, the sun not setting until nearly eight p.m. The ice rink is long gone, the boards stacked in a barn, the tarp rolled up. It’s as if it were never there.
The warm months are ahead, waiting around the corner with their green grass and leafy trees and sunny summer days you can bask in. It’s the same feeling after every winter—you just need to get through this next stretch of cold drizzle while you wait for the earth to wake up, for the birds to sing in the morning once again, and the blooms to arrive.
Annie often scatters wildflower seeds in this narrow field between our houses, turning the patch into a jungle of black-eyed Susans and purple prairie clover. That’s what I’m looking forward to now, especially knowing Logan is waiting for me on the other side.
I hesitate, struggling how to broach the subject of Holly with my daughter. In the end, I decide on a safer topic. “Hey, does your dad seem a little off to you?”
“You mean, nicer?”
“Let the record show that I did not say that.” I’ve always tried my hardest to not bad-mouth Dillon in front of her. “He said I deserve to be happy. He’s never said that to me before.”
A secretive smile spreads across Isla’s face.
“What’s that for?”