One Step Too Far (Frankie Elkin #2)(112)

She says she knew Martin wouldn’t fail. He promised her he’d find Tim, and Martin never lied. She thanks us for delivering these final memories of her husband and her son. She apologizes that we came to harm, as that’s the last thing she and Martin ever wanted or expected.

I tell her Martin saved my life.

She smiles and says that makes perfect sense, as Martin saved her life, too. And made all of it worth living.

She means it, I realize. And despite the awfulness of the conversation, she appears at peace in a way that’s difficult to explain. She’s a woman nearing the end and knows it. But she’s also a woman with no more unfinished business. Her son and her husband are coming home to her. And soon enough, they will be a family again.

Searchers recover more evidence as they scour the mountains. Bolt-holes previously established by Marge and Nemeth containing duffel bags filled with everything from hunting gear to boxes of ammo to additional MREs. No wonder they always seemed one step ahead. They had planned for their strategy well, two lifelong outdoorspeople, putting their knowledge and experience to a much darker use.

The police were able to examine the clothing Nemeth had been wearing when he was first brought to the hospital. Sure enough, the military pants bore Kevlar patches bearing nick marks from my blade, while the shirtsleeve had a bullet hole from Miggy’s wild shooting.

Nemeth doesn’t leave the hospital. He ends up going into cardiac arrest and that’s that. Martin’s final victory is complete, though I feel robbed on the subject. At least I can still picture Marge locked up in a cinder-block cell for the rest of her life. She hasn’t spoken again since her morning of true confession in Nemeth’s room. There are rumors she’s on suicide watch. There are more rumors she’ll never make it to trial. Plenty of ways to get to someone in prison, and plenty of locals who’d like to see that done.

Luciana and I end up reserving the suite for two weeks. There are that many questions we must answer. Or maybe that many bubble baths and naps that must be taken, as both Luciana and I work our way back to feeling human.

She and Daisy start going for longer and longer walks.

I find myself roaming the streets of Ramsey, getting closer and closer to the edge of town. One day I spy Lisa Rowell driving by and wave at her as she waves back. It feels weird to have been in a place long enough to be recognized by the locals.

It feels disorienting.

When I return that afternoon, I find Luciana sitting quietly at the end of her bed, Daisy sprawled beside her. She looks so serious, I feel my chest tighten with dread.

“We have a gift for you,” she says abruptly.

“?‘We’?”

“Myself, Miguel, Scott, Neil, Josh, and Rob.”

“Bob’s husband?” Now I’m very confused.

“In the beginning, we all doubted you. Most didn’t even want you to come. But none of us would’ve survived without your perseverance and quick thinking.”

Luciana sticks out her hand. It contains a fat envelope. I eye it warily.

“What is it?”

“We respect your lifestyle. This is what you do, and how you choose to live. We also know the pay really sucks.”

Now I’m totally flummoxed. “You’re . . . you’re paying me?”

“Frankie, you’ve been wearing the same pair of jeans for over a week.”

“They’re all I have left.”

“I know. We know. We’re not trying to change you. We’re just trying to lighten your load. Maybe this makes it easier for you to take up your next case or maybe this enables you to do something else entirely, something you haven’t considered before. The future is a gift. You gave it to us. We want to give a piece back to you.”

I accept the envelope. No one’s ever offered me a wad of money before. And not because some of the other families weren’t grateful, but because you can’t give what you don’t have.

The envelope is very thick. It takes me a few minutes to work it all out. “Oh my God, this is like five thousand bucks.”

Luciana smiles. “And yet surviving the three most terrifying days of our lives . . . priceless.”

I don’t know what to say. My hands are shaking. “Can I at least buy you dinner?”

“You really don’t understand this gift thing, do you?”

“It hasn’t come up before.”

“How about we both do some clothes shopping tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Shopping with a friend. I’ve heard of such things. Maybe Sophie and I did it once upon a time. But it’s been so long.

“Oh, and I want you to have this.”

“Another gift?”

Luciana smiles, holds out a paracord bracelet. It’s in shades of brown and dark green, and the clasp contains a sawtooth edge, similar to the one she lent me at the beginning of our wild adventure. “In case your emergency whistle isn’t enough,” she tells me.

I snap it around my wrist, genuinely touched. “I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.” Now I’m mortified. She’s been so thoughtful; here I am, the selfish one.

“Frankie, stop it.” She grabs my hand. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. This makes us happy. That’s gift enough.”

I’m going to cry. Except I’m tired of crying. So I hug her instead. Then Daisy wants in on the action, and it quickly becomes a silly, laughing affair that shifts something in my chest. Ever so slightly, but enough. I find that I can breathe for the first time in weeks.