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A subtle smile. “I know. Thanks to you.”
Amanda’s cheeks heated at the compliment, but she couldn’t take all the credit. “It was a team effort. How are Nadine and her mother doing these days?” It was rather surprising that Nadine, Ava’s best friend, wasn’t there. Amanda had met the girl three months ago when her sister was murdered. It was also this same killer who had taken Ava.
“They’re getting through. Just day by day, ya know.”
“That I do.” Too well!
“Well, I should probably change myself.” With that, Ava headed toward the house.
Amanda was left standing there, looking out over the pool and at Kristen’s beautiful yard.
“Mandy.” Her father stepped up next to her, his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to talk to me?”
At his genuine offer, tears pricked Amanda’s eyes. She could blame exhaustion, shock—allergies—as the culprit. Any of those would be a lie. She turned to her father. “How did you cope with…” She swallowed roughly, took a few beats. “Guilt? Knowing that you could have done something to prevent a bad thing from happening.”
“Knowing is a strong word unless you’re psychic. And just to be clear, the bad thing is murder?” Her father preferred his communication to be clear-cut with zero possibility for misinterpretation. Probably due to his time as police chief.
“Yes.” She stared at the ground, avoiding her father’s gaze.
“That one’s pretty easy, kiddo. Did you wield the weapon? Take this life we’re talking about?”
“No. Of course not.” She met his eyes. “But it’s not that simple.”
“It needs to be. That’s if you’re going to keep your sanity.”
She appreciated his words held truth, but applying them was much harder than accepting them. “This victim reached out to me just hours before she was murdered. I couldn’t answer her call because I was on the flight home. If only I hadn’t been on the plane, if—”
“Stop there. Nothing good comes from going down If Only Lane.” Her father’s face was stern as he held up a pointed finger.
“Easy to say. Surely, you had cases where you felt if you changed just one thing, the outcome would have been different?”
“Absolutely. I lost count of the times I almost left the force within my first few years in Homicide.”
That confession froze the air in her lungs. “I had no idea.”
“You would have no reason to.”
“Why did you stay?”
“Probably for the same reason you keep doing this job—even when you should be on vacation,” her father pushed back. “It’s when we get the wins, when the bad guys get their due… it’s a high like—”
“No other,” she jumped in and smiled at her father. “But was that all that stopped you from leaving?” She sensed there was more.
“Ah, no. Not all.” A strange energy surrounded her father, and she wasn’t sure if he was going to confide in her. Just when she didn’t think he was, he said, “Malone.”
“Scott talked you out of quitting?”
“He did. Repeatedly. Just another reason he’s a close friend of the family.”
Huh. If Malone hadn’t stepped in back then, what would that have meant for her career? She’d always admired her father and wanted to follow his path. In a way, she owed her badge—and her life—to her sergeant. Being a cop was in her blood, at the very pulse of her being. She couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
“You need to find ways of releasing the endless what ifs and if onlys. The other option is insanity,” her father emphasized. “Malone helped me realize that.”
“What ways though?” Is it too much to hope for one practical method I can apply?
“It starts with the basics… The oath you took to serve and protect.”
“Yes, but every time someone is murdered, I’ve failed.”
