“Detective Aaliyah?” the woman said.
Tess pulled her head back, clearly not recognizing her.
The woman glanced at me and then took off her sunglasses. “My name is Patricia Phelps.”
Tess took a sharp breath. Her shaking hands traveled to her lips in disbelief. The mother of the little girl she’d shot was standing right there.
“I’ll let you two talk,” I said, and I walked toward the dunes.
I climbed up on one and sat on top for the longest time, rubbing my ankle and watching life play out on the beach below me. I saw Patricia Phelps forgive Tess Aaliyah as she’d promised she would. Tess fell into the woman’s arms, and later they built a sand castle with Meagan, the little girl.
It took a while, but Ali finally got the hang of casting and later hooked his first fish, a nice striper. He danced all around, throwing his hands up in the air, and I could hear his shouts of victory over the surf.
I smiled and gazed beyond the breaking waves to the sea and the far horizon, feeling that these kinds of moments, these small triumphs, were more than enough to keep me working for the good in the world despite all the dark webs I’d been thrust into over the course of my life.