So you gather the amaranth, as much of it as you can find without completely denuding her mother’s garden, and you wait, because you’ve watched her long enough to know that when she can’t sleep, she doesn’t bother her parents, or her brother and sister. She slips out of the house and down three streets to the church with a door that’s always open, and she dances. She used to go two streets the other direction first, to see if Priya wanted to join her, and they’d pass the dark hours in a church, Aimée dancing, Priya taking photos of stained glass and grace in moonlight.
You make it painless for Aimée, as much as you can. You do it for her sake as much as for Priya’s. She really is such a good girl, a good friend when Priya needed one most. You surround her with the dark pink bunches of amaranth, and you sit with her for a while, looking up at the windows, thinking of Priya.
She was such a good little sister, so worthy of protection. She isn’t anything like Darla Jean; she’ll stay good. She’ll be grateful, when she knows how much you love her.
You’ll find her again, and this time you won’t stop until she knows how you feel. You can’t wait to hear her say she loves you.
The dahlias arrive on Tuesday, three blossoms each as big as my hand, so deep a purple they’re just shy of black. It was not quite a year ago that fourteen-year-old Julie McCarthy was found raped and murdered in a church in Charlotte, North Carolina, three dahlias in a line over her mouth, chest, and crotch like a demented chakra map.
My first call isn’t to Eddison, or to Mum or Finney; it’s to Hannah Randolph, Gunny’s granddaughter. Since we learned about Landon’s murder—or rather, since the men learned about all the circumstances surrounding his murder—the vets have very emphatically requested that I not walk to and from chess on my own. Hannah offered to give me rides, considering that she waits in the car the entire time anyway. With all the other vets there to watch Gunny, she can easily swing the mile and a half to my house.
They were clearly prepared to argue with me about it, or so I gathered from their shock when I said yes and thank you. It makes sense, though, and I am grateful for it. Around the time I would normally leave for chess, I call Hannah to let her know if I’m coming.
Or in the case of this morning, not coming.
“Do you mind if I come sit with you?” she asks immediately. “At least until the agents arrive? I don’t like the thought of you being alone right now.”
“Gunny—”
“Will be just fine with Pierce. If something happens, I am less than five minutes away.”
“It would make me feel better,” I admit. “Thank you.”
“I’m on my way. Call your agents.”
I text Eddison, then make some hot chocolate as I call Finney. When Hannah arrives, she steps carefully around the flowers to avoid disturbing anything and accepts the mug with a smile, nodding to the phone at my ear. As I pull up the camera feed, she settles into the armchair with her knitting.
I should learn how to knit. It seems very calming.
“What’s the camera show?” Finney asks wearily.
“It blanks out at nine thirty-eight,” I answer. “After that there’s nothing.”
“Snow?”
“Nothing. Like it’s not getting a signal but the network is fine.”
“Back camera?”
“Happily recording the movements of the fattest squirrel I have ever seen.”
“Do you feel safe enough till we get there? I can ask the local PD to send someone out.”
I think of Officer Clare and shudder. “Hannah is here with me.”
“All right. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
For about ten minutes, Hannah and I sit in a silence as comfortable as it can be, given the circumstances. Her needles clack sedately, and there’s a soothing, almost meditative quality to it.
Then there’s a knock on the door.
It’s definitely not my agents, not this quickly. Not even with the way they drive.
Oh, God, it’s probably—
“Miss Priya? The boys said you had a mite of trouble?”
Officer Clare. He’s taken to swinging by the chess pavilion without his partner, checking up on me, he says. He’s been told not to, by both Lou and their captain, but it hasn’t stopped him. He just claims it’s on his way to the store, or to lunch, and we happen to run into each other.
“Miss Priya, I know you’re home. I can see Miss Randolph’s car. I just want to make sure you’re all right till the feds get here.”
Hannah carefully sets her knitting aside. “I’ll send him off, shall I?”
“Please,” I whisper.
She heads down the hall to the door and opens it just enough to be seen, her body blocking me from view. “We’re just fine, Officer,” she tells him politely. “If you don’t mind stepping away from the evidence?”
“I can stay with y’all—”
“The thought is appreciated, but it isn’t necessary.”
“I was there, you know, when she lost her sister. Poor kid. When I think of my own sister . . . little sisters need protecting.”
“Officer Clare. Your assistance is not needed at this time. Please leave.”
He raises his voice. “Now, Miss Priya—”
Pulling up my call log, I find the number for his captain and tap on it. The man answers with his last name and no greeting. “Captain, this is Priya Sravasti, and—”
“Please tell me Clare is not bothering you again,” he growls.
“He’s at my door and refusing to leave.”
“My apologies, Miss Sravasti. I’ll take care of it.” As he hangs up, I catch a grumble that sounds a bit like “fire his sorry ass” and wonder if that’s what will happen.
Hannah eventually shuts the door in Clare’s face, twisting both locks. After a moment, she hooks in the chain for good measure. “That man is not quite right,” she says, taking her knitting back up. “There’s no reason for him to be so focused on you.”
“Apparently it’s something about this type of case,” I sigh. “Mercedes explained the psychology of it once. Sometimes, an emergency responder can get a little stuck on a case that disturbs them, especially if something else is going on in their lives. Some get obsessed with solving the crime, but others latch on to checking up on the family.”
“Did he do that in Boston?”
“Not that I recall, but if he was back in Boston, he could have been a lot more subtle about it.”
“If?” she echoes.
“It wouldn’t be the weirdest way a fan has pushed into a case, according to Mercedes. She’s doing a full background check on him.”
Hannah shakes her head. “I know humans are complicated creatures, but this seems a bit excessive.”
Finney and Sterling arrive not very long after. Finney looks a little green as he steps out of the car. On the driver’s side, Sterling manages to look both sheepish and proud.
“Having fun with the lights and sirens?” I ask dryly.
Sterling grins at me before tucking it back behind a more professional expression. “We lost time behind an accident; I didn’t want to leave you waiting.”
Rolling his eyes, Finney turns to Hannah and offers his hand. “Thank you for staying with her, Miss Randolph.”
She shakes his hand. “Do you need me to stay? For after you go, I mean.”
“Actually . . .” He glances up at me. “Your mother asked us to bring you up to Denver, if you don’t mind. I think she’ll feel better if she can keep sight of you.”
“That’s fine. Thank you so much, Hannah.”
“Anytime,” she says, giving me a brief hug. “Be safe, Priya.” It’s the same thing her grandfather tells me instead of goodbye, only he calls me Miss Priya, and somehow Officer Clare hasn’t ruined that.
Speaking of whom . . . I tell Finney about Officer Clare, then head upstairs to change and toss some things in a bag to take with me. I don’t know if Mum’s office has general Wi-Fi, so schoolwork might not be an option.
“Knocked out the camera with the EMP, then cut the wires again,” Sterling announces once I’m back downstairs.
“So what now?”
“Now we get you to your mother,” answers Finney. “Then we’ll discuss your protection detail.”