214 Palmer Street(72)
“I recommend you seal it up pronto,” he’d said. “It’s unsafe and doesn’t meet code.”
Once the bomb shelter was locked and covered, Gavin felt that the whole episode was behind him. Jeremy was gone, of course, but he’d always been more Kirk’s friend than his. Gavin was able to move on and would have continued living his best life if not for Sarah Aden. Some people just didn’t know how to mind their own business.
Crime committed. Crime covered up. Crime revealed. It had been buried for so long but unraveled quickly at the end. Even though he was now incarcerated, Gavin knew this wasn’t the last word on the subject. Nothing was forever. His years in law enforcement had taught him that new evidence could be uncovered. Convictions could be overturned. It wasn’t common, but it happened. Persistence and confidence were key, and he had plenty of both. He just needed a better attorney, and another shot at presenting his case.
The Dodd Correctional Institution was a temporary address as far as he was concerned.
He sat at breakfast staring at a bowl of tepid oatmeal next to a glass of milk. He desperately wished for a cup of coffee with cream and two sugars, but that wasn’t going to happen. He was hungry, so he spooned oatmeal into his mouth, but nothing about the meal was appealing. All around him, men perched on stools bolted to the floor and ate. If they spoke at all, it was quietly. No one wanted trouble this early in the day.
Across the table, a guy named Rod gave him a nod. “Hey, Chief, how’s it going?” Rod seemed affable enough for a guy who’d killed a cashier at a gas station mini-mart for less than two hundred dollars, but Gavin wasn’t letting his guard down. Everyone there knew he’d been a chief of police and that alone had made him a target. He’d only been here two days and already he’d been threatened, spit on, and punched in the head.
“Going okay,” he said, lifting his spoon.
“It’s hard at first,” Rod said. “But you’ll see. Things work out for the best.”
Gavin nodded as if agreeing, but mentally he balked. Things work out for the best? That was a laugh. He wasn’t going to get settled in, if that’s what Rod was suggesting. Right now, Natalie was working on hiring a high-powered attorney to appeal his conviction. He’d already outlined all the ways he could counter the prosecutor’s arguments.
Before long, he’d be a free man.
Taking a sip of his milk, he ignored the stares in his direction. These miscreants had nothing better to do than try to make him uncomfortable. Well, it wasn’t working. Setting the glass down, he raised his gaze to Rod, who was looking past him.
Rod smiled at someone behind him and said, “Hey, Starkey.”
Starkey? Gavin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, but the blade was at his throat before he could even react. The makeshift weapon sliced his throat in a few seconds’ time.
The oatmeal never got eaten.
EPILOGUE
Sarah carried her son on her hip and strode across the expansive, neatly manicured lawn. They went past headstones marking the lives of strangers, all of them greatly missed by those they left behind. She finally set the toddler down when their destination came into sight. Liam, still clutching the bouquet of flowers they’d purchased earlier, took off, his chubby legs carrying him straight to his father’s grave.
“Liam Anthony Aden!” she called out, quickening her pace. “Wait for me.”
By the time she caught up, he’d already placed the flowers on the grave, kissed his fingertips and pressed his hand against the stone. He’d learned the gesture from watching her do it countless times.
Her son. Such a sweet little guy.
They came out to the cemetery every week, weather permitting. She knew her in-laws visited the gravesite as well. They didn’t discuss it, but she found the notes and flowers they left behind, something she found both endearing and heartbreaking. She kissed her own fingertips, and pressed them against the marker, which had been engraved: Kirk William Aden, Beloved Son, Husband, and Father. Judy had been pleased, but surprised to see that she’d chosen the word “Father” when she’d ordered the memorial. Sarah suspected it was because the baby wasn’t born at that point. But Kirk was Liam’s father and always would be.
Emotionally she’d been on a journey since Kirk died. Besides the usual emotions of grief, she’d also felt robbed, as if her previous memories had been tainted. Her view of her husband as a kind, loving man had become marred by the knowledge that he’d once covered up a heinous crime. How could he do such a thing and still go on living his life?
She’d tried to explain her feelings to Phil, who’d gently said, “It sounds like you’re having trouble forgiving Kirk.”
His words nudged something in her memory, something Mrs. Bickley had said about forgiveness: Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; instead, you are the one who will get burned.
Sarah repeated these words to herself whenever she felt bitter or depressed.
It took time and counseling, but eventually she decided to try and let go, for the baby’s sake if not for her own. She still had conflicted feelings on occasion, but ultimately she decided that Kirk—like everyone else on the planet—should not be defined solely by one act, no matter how horrendous. Framing it that way didn’t excuse what he did, but it allowed her to keep her cherished memories and have the hope that someday she could move on. And she wanted to do just that.