“I’ll stay with her,” Alana said.
He went into the living room and built a fire in the fireplace. Newspaper, logs, a few sticks for kindling, but he didn’t light it. He stayed on the floor, head bent, trying to process the emotions flaring like fireworks within him.
No one in Walkers Ford knew what had happened with Derik. No one. It wasn’t official police business tracked under his badge number. His involvement with the Boys and Girls Club was sanctioned, of course, but what happened slipped through the cracks. How had Tanya known?
Leanne, his ex-wife. She and Tanya had always been close. Back when she’d been angry with him for caring too much about everyone else and not enough about her, Leanne must have told his cousin, and Tanya had nursed it, waiting for the right moment to slip it between his ribs.
How had she known the person he’d hate most to know about his failure was Alana Wentworth?
Alana emerged from the bedroom and closed the door. “I treated her feet again. She’s asleep. On her side,” she added. “She’s going to have quite a headache when she wakes up.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “Let’s go.”
“Is what she said true?”
“Why wouldn’t it be true?”
“Drunk addicts say hurtful things when they’re under the influence.”
“It’s true.”
“Would you tell me what happened?”
He shrugged as they turned onto the paved county road into town. “Derik was a kid I met when I was volunteering at the Boys and Girls Club. Smart kid. Rising rapidly through the ranks in his gang because he had a head for numbers. Shit home life. Mother in jail, father gone since he was a baby, being raised by a grandmother too old to keep him in line and with four other kids in the house. I’d take him and other kids on climbing weekends. I did what I could to help him.”
He remembered his uncle laughing at his involvement, at his naivete. You’ll learn, boy. You’ll learn. But he had thought he could make a difference. If he just got Derik through high school, he’d be okay. But then he’d joined the task force and gotten married, and had less time to spend with one kid. He returned phone calls later and later, canceled lunch dates. Forgot his birthday.
Two years later, Derik was dead.
Duke leaned over the passenger seat and laid his snout on Alana’s shoulder. She reached up to idly scratch behind his ears. “What happened?”
“He died. Some stupid feud over a corner. Another kid pulled out a Glock and shot him six times at close range. He was dead before the ambulance was dispatched.”
The failure destroyed him, destroyed his marriage. Nelson was right. One person couldn’t stand against the tide of drugs and poverty and hopelessness. All he could do was clean up afterwards.
“Interesting,” she said.
“That’s what you said when Tanya shouted it to the sky.”
“I was at a loss for words,” she admitted.
“This isn’t Denver,” he said.
“I’m aware of that.”
“It’s not Chicago, either.”
“Also aware of that.”
“People matter here.”
She turned to look at him.
“People matter. Cody’s getting attached to you. So is Mrs. Battle. Her kids and grandkids are scattered all over the country. You’re making them care about you, and you’re going to leave.”
She gaped at him. “Lucas, everyone knew I was leaving. I can’t possibly matter that much to any one resident of Walkers Ford.”
You do. You matter that much to me.
“What about you? Do I matter to you?”
“You’ve been handy to have around,” he said offhandedly.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Handy.”
“You’re good with a flashlight.”
“I’m sorry for what happened with Derik,” she said finally.
“It was a lesson every cop learns eventually. You can’t save them.” Or Tanya. He couldn’t fight off poverty and drugs and hopelessness. He couldn’t fight off failure.
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I mean I’m sorry for Derik. For how you must have felt when he died.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t feel anything at all.”
? ? ?
HE DROVE HER back to her house just before dawn, then went into his own house to catch a couple of hours of sleep before starting his day officially. His phone rang as he crossed the driveways to his truck. He’d spent so much time in Alana’s rented house that he’d started parking in Alana’s driveway as if it were home.
“Ridgeway.”
“Uh, Chief Ridgeway? This is Lee from the pawn shop down in Brookings. You were in a couple of weeks ago asking about a ring. I think I’ve got it.”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said.
When he pulled into the parking lot, the shop was nearly empty. Two kids perused the pawned games and consoles. They looked at Lucas, then sidled out the front door.
“What do you have for me?”