I stood and stepped to the fireplace, my back to Mac, and stared into the flames.
“What do you think any seasoned cop relies on in a situation like that?” he said. “They turn to experience and gut feelings and impressions that are informed by years of dealing with suspects and criminals. No matter what sense it was that told you he was dangerous, it was no worse than any other gut feeling that an officer has to tap into when he or she makes a split-second decision. You rely on your training and your senses—however many you have.”
I turned and must have looked surprised because he quickly rushed on.
“And, in this case, your sense wasn’t wrong. Jadyn was dangerous, and had planned to kill someone that night.”
“What?” I sank onto the couch facing Mac. The feeling had been so strong that night. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but I had been devastated to find out how wrong it had been. I swallowed and blinked back tears of relief.
“He’s recently confessed that he was out on an initiation that night. He was supposed to pick someone, anyone, and shoot them to prove that he had what it takes to be in a gang. The thing is, you interrupted him. He had an older gang member with him to verify his kill. That kid took off in the other direction with the gun. There’s no mention of another suspect in any report—I assume no one saw him. Jadyn said he would have returned to finish the job if he hadn’t been injured.”
“Still . . .” I said. It didn’t erase the guilt I felt, but knowing my instincts had been right at least gave me a small sense of peace.
“He confessed because his injury saved his life. He turned himself around while he was in the hospital. He had a chance to think about the direction his life was headed and understood that you just as easily could have killed him. He came forward recently because his younger brother is caught up in the same trap and he wants help getting him out. So, you actually saved him that night, and by extension the brother as well.”
My head was reeling with this new information. It was already spinning from the whole cell phone cache discovery, but now I had to rethink all my assumptions over the past nine months since the shooting. I stood up again and stepped closer to the fireplace. Even near the fire, I felt cold and hugged Vi’s sweater tighter around me.
“I’m going to need a little time to think about this, Mac.”
He nodded. “I just wanted you to have all the information before you decided to leave police work permanently.”
I turned toward him. I might as well tell him. “I already decided to leave police work.”
“But—”
“No, listen. It’s not because of the shooting. It never really was. I don’t like police work—I’m not cut out for it.”
“I thought it was the shooting that sent you back to Crystal Haven.”
“It was, at first. I felt terribly guilty and I was angry that my psychic information had let me down—again.”
“But now, you want to . . . be psychic?”
“I don’t really have a choice about that. It just is. I can’t block it out, I can only learn to interpret or ignore or maybe even understand it. What I can do is choose whether to let it control my life.”
“So, what will you do?”
“I want to stay in Crystal Haven. I have a few ideas for a slightly different career—don’t worry, it won’t involve me reading tarot cards or telling fortunes.”
“And you’ll be happy here? Even with your family around?”
I nodded.
“Clyde, I was afraid that when your year is up in the house, you would sell it and move back to Ann Arbor.”
“No. Why would you think that?”
Mac shrugged and wouldn’t look at me.
“I’m sorry, Mac. You’re stuck with me.”
He stood and pulled me toward him. As he kissed me, I felt all the uncertainty melt away. The heat from the fire finally penetrated. I felt warm, happy, and safe for the first time in a long time.
We heard a crash in the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I only wanted . . .” Kirk and Wally stood in the doorway. Wally had dropped his end of the ladder and stammered his way through an apology.
“It’s fine, come in,” Mac said. “More yarn bombing?”
Kirk nodded once and sighed as he began to set up the ladder.
29
Dinner that evening was even more stressful than usual. Every time Vi opened her mouth, I tensed up, certain that she would start discussing the cell phones. She didn’t. She did discuss Kirk and his position at the top of her suspect list.
“So the way I see it,” Vi said and lowered her voice while glancing at the other tables. “Dory is our best suspect.”
“Who?” Mac asked.
Vi narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want to say the name—people might be listening.”