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Forty-Six
Tommy’s memorial service was attended by three hundred people. Friends of Terri and Grace—mostly from the hospital and their church. Dozens of cops, a few FBI agents, and fifty marshals. Friends and neighbors. Former and current military—two of Tommy’s closest friends were career military who had been given three-day’s leave to attend his service.
And Regan’s dad.
She sat with her dad, surprised at how emotional she’d been when he showed up yesterday at Tommy’s house.
“You will never say you need me, but you needed me,” he said.
“Yes, Dad, I need you.”
He sat with her in his suit, still looking like a cop though he’d retired four years ago. Terri’s minister gave a nice sermon, about duty and honor, loyalty and hope. About how Thomas V. Granger had lived up to the code of the United States Marines, and then the United States Marshals Service. But mostly, he’d lived up to the code in the Bible: to love your neighbor as yourself.
Terri said a few words, stories about Tommy when he was younger, including one where he nursed a stray cat back to health. One of his Marine buddies told stories about Tommy in basic training, including one where he broke curfew because he was helping his bunkmate propose to his girlfriend.
And Regan spoke.
It was difficult, but not as hard as she thought it would be. All she could think about was that Tommy should be alive, Chase should be alive, and the greed and selfishness of others took what was good and right in the world and destroyed it.
But saying goodbye—that, she needed.
At the end, she slipped out, needing a moment alone. She was surprised when her dad followed her.
“I thought you were having a nice chat with my old boss.”
“He’s an interesting fellow,” John Merritt said. “He’s coming to Scottsdale for a charity golf event for fallen officers in the fall, one I’m involved with. We plan to catch up more then.”
“Good,” she said, and meant it. She watched people from a distance. She couldn’t hear any one conversation, but imagined that they all had stories about Tommy. His legacy. “Thank you for being here, Dad.”
“Any word on when you can return home?”
“Saturday, I hope, but it might not be until Monday.”
“Monday is good,” he said. “I agreed to adopt a couple horses from the Rickmans. They’re moving, won’t have room for them. I could use your help getting them settled next week.”
She loved horses; they’d had them when she was growing up.
“I guess I’d better get started on that apartment over the barn.” She’d already paid for remodeling plans for the apartment her grandfather had lived in for years before he died. All that was needed was her signature and a down payment to get started. “Are you sure you won’t get tired of me being around all the time?”
“No promises, but I’ll tell you this—after having you back for a few months, when you were gone this last week, I missed having you around. Maybe I’m just getting sentimental in my old age.”
She laughed. “You? Old? Sentimental? I don’t see it.”
“You’re right. I just like the company.”
“Me, too, Dad.” She swirled the beer around in the bottle, not really wanting any more. “I need to find a job.”
“I thought you had a nice nest egg.”
“I do. And it’ll last a bit longer. But... I need a purpose. Now that I have closure here, I feel I can finally move forward.”
John nodded. “I think you can. Do you have some ideas?”
“Can you get me in touch with your friend in security? I think my skills might benefit his business.”
“I know they will,” John said with a smile. “I’m glad. And I’m especially glad that you’re returning to Flagstaff.”
“Honestly, Dad—there’s no place I’d rather be. Flagstaff is my home.”
