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“Grady,” Coulter said, his serious tone forcing my gaze to his.
“What?”
“You’re missing out on what is because you’re so damn stuck on what was. Nothing’s going to bring Megan back.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it. It’s not about wanting her back. It’s about wanting justice. Bardot got away with murder and he’s continued running drugs and laundering money right under our noses. It just…” I looked away, my throat tight with emotion. “I can’t function because it feels like it’s happening all over again.”
“What is?”
“I can’t lose her. Avon.” I looked over at my bookcase, wishing I had a punching bag in that corner instead. I needed to let loose some of this frustration. “I want to be the one to watch her back and keep her safe. Not Denton. But I have to do all this budget and investigation bullshit because of my position as chief.”
This was the price of letting myself feel something again. I’d never made a conscious decision to let it happen; Avon had stolen my heart without me even realizing it was happening.
“You know this is PTSD, right?” Coulter asked.
I nodded. Yeah, years of therapy had shown me that my past held me hostage. But just wanting to overcome it wasn’t enough. I had a deep-seated belief that if I let go of the fear and worry, karma would creep in and pull the rug out from beneath me again.
That was why I had to keep my distance from Avon. Because I was weak. Even my best efforts wouldn’t necessarily keep her safe. I still had to try, but with other people leading up the investigations now, the outcomes were out of my control.
Coulter stood up. “Listen. We’re going to get some lunch, even if it’s gas station sandwiches, since every damn restaurant in town is full of reporters. You need to get the hell out of here for a little while.”
I looked at my watch. “I have to be back by 2:30 p.m. so I can get to the Chronicle on time.”
“You will be.”
I grabbed my phone and stood up, knowing he was right.
“I’m not eating any of those shit egg salad sandwiches from the Sun station,” I grumbled.
“I know, because they gave you the runs five years ago.” Coulter gave me a wry look. “You’ve mentioned it at least fifty times.”
“I barely made it to the bathroom.”
“No egg salad,” he promised.
“I know what we should do,” I said. “Let’s go to The Sleepy Moose for lunch. Shea will feed us.”
I followed Coulter out of my office, double-checking my phone to make sure it was still on. Maybe this would be the afternoon I got the call that Bardot had finally been arrested.
“What’s that?” Avon asked as I held out a gold box an hour later.
“It’s for you.”
She smiled, took it, and opened the bakery box.
“Oh, wow. It smells heavenly and looks amazing. Thank you.”
“It’s chocolate chip pudding cake. Olivia said she thought you’d like it.”
I rarely had occasion to set foot in Sweets of Gold, but I’d decided on impulse to pick up something for Avon. Since there wasn’t a section of desserts that said sorry I’ve been so weird lately, I’d asked the owner, Olivia Carmichael, for a recommendation. Chocolate or baked goods. I would take either if it would help me make it up to Avon.
“It’s really good to see you,” Avon said, setting the box on her desk.
“I’m coming with you to the Meechams’ house.”
“Ah.” She cast a quick smile in Officer Denton’s direction, disappointment flickering in her eyes.
Damn, why was I so bad at this?
“But I wanted to see you too,” I added quickly.
She glanced at the open-mouth bass clock on the newsroom wall, its tail swishing up and down to track the seconds. “We should probably get going.”
Denton gave me a sympathetic look as we all walked toward the newsroom door and stepped outside.
“You can ride with me,” I told Avon. “Officer Denton, you can go on a break. I’ll text you when you need to be back here.”
“Okay, Chief.”
“I’d rather take Bess’s car,” Avon said. “It might intimidate Margie if I show up in the police chief’s car.”
My sigh was weary. “If anyone needs to be intimidated, it’s that family. I might bring in a long gun and hold on to it while you talk to her.”
“Stop it.” She glared up at me, crossing her arms. “You can come with me to the interview, but you can’t be in the same room as us, and you’re definitely not bringing in a long gun.”
I stopped walking. “How am I supposed to watch out for you when you’re in another room?”
“Grady, this woman is a senior citizen. And I’m the one who asked to come meet with her. I don’t think she’s planning to attack me.”
“That’s what everyone thinks before they get attacked.”
