A brow shot up, and he pretended to search for something in his pockets. “That one’s very important. I think I should write it down.”
She laughed. He was here. He was here, and for a moment she let all the horror they’d experienced fall away and she was only hope. Only wild, beautiful, healing hope. She let it wash through her, the sunlight after the storm.
“Come on, sweetheart,” she called to Callie, linking arms with Evan as they turned toward Sweetgrass. Callie ran ahead of them, skipping and singing one of their favorite nursery rhymes. Noelle could see Tilly sitting on the porch. She couldn’t wait to introduce Evan to her. They were going to love each other.
“Can we figure out when to tell her?” he asked, his eyes on Callie.
Noelle pulled him closer, laying her head on his shoulder as they walked. “Yes. Let’s get you settled and her used to you being here, and then we’ll sit down and tell her.” Noelle couldn’t wait. She couldn’t wait to be a family, to share the ups and the downs and the boring. God, she couldn’t wait to share the beautiful boring.
They had a lot to talk about; she’d have to prepare herself for the emotional impact of the updates he surely had. All she knew at this point was the good news that Cedro Leon and Grimaldo Zamora were safe with Cedro’s brother in Arizona and that Grimaldo had already expressed interest in becoming their sponsor, and that the women who had been freed from cages were being cared for, their families contacted. The handful of men who had survived the poison were in custody, except for one lone server, the man who had seemed to be helping Vitucci or . . . Caspar. He hadn’t been recognizable to her or to Evan, and Noelle had a feeling he’d remain unidentified, and strangely, the thought didn’t distress her. Whoever he was, and whatever conflicting feelings she had about Caspar, that man had been there to assist in taking down evil.
Yes, there was so much more to learn about the monsters who’d victimized so many. And all that was important. But so was this. A few moments of blessed peace. Of only them.
He stopped, and she did too. “Oh,” he said, reaching in his back pocket. She watched to see Callie run across the bridge, raising her arm toward Miss Tilly, who waved her forward. When Noelle looked back at Evan, she saw that he’d removed a jewelry box. “This isn’t what you think,” he told her. “Yet. Because I’ve got better plans for that.”
She laughed softly. Okay, so he wasn’t proposing. She was glad, because she wanted at least a little time to process all they’d been through so she could focus solely on the future. Again that wild hope billowed inside. She glanced up to see that Callie had made it to Tilly. “What is it?”
He opened the box, and she inhaled a breath. “My mom’s ring.”
“Baudelaire sent it to me,” he said. “It came in the mail anonymously. But it had to be him. Who else?”
She stared down at it for a moment, thinking about that before picking up the beautiful, delicate piece of jewelry, the one her mom had once worn.
She slipped it on her right hand.
“For now, a promise,” Evan said, their eyes meeting. A promise. That they’d love hard, that they’d always be honest, that they’d try their very best to be a living embodiment of the victory that had risen from the ashes of evil. Love.
“A promise,” she repeated. They were good at keeping those.
They turned, fingers linked, and headed toward the house. Whole. Together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As with all stories, this one was a journey. Thank you to so many who walked it with me.
To Kimberly Brower, who is a force of nature. I have no idea how you do all that you do, but I’m so grateful that you throw me into the mix.
To Marion Archer, for your wisdom and deep sensitivity.
To Charlotte Herscher, who challenges me in ways that help me grow and is a true pleasure to work with even when asking me to rewrite large sections of my first draft. I’d work with you a hundred times over! And thank you to Maria Gomez and the rest of the Amazon team, who make the process run so smoothly and (seemingly) effortlessly.
To my readers. Thank you for your enthusiasm and kindness, for making me want to strive to do better each time, and for constantly showing up. My appreciation is endless.
To all the book bloggers, Instagrammers, and BookTokers: I am humbled that so many of you have turned your creativity and passion in my direction.
To my husband, thank you for being so damn good at keeping promises. I love you.
TURN THE PAGE TO SEE A PREVIEW OF MIA SHERIDAN’S BOOK BAD MOTHER!
CHAPTER ONE
Reno, Nevada, the one place on earth she’d vowed never to return to. Unfortunately, that pledge had blown up in her face, an outcome that was an iffy mix of fate and her own emotionally charged decision-making.
Would you change it? Sienna asked herself for the hundredth time.
And for the hundredth time, she still wasn’t certain of the answer.
Only . . . yes, yes, she was sure of the answer. She’d do it again if given the choice. She just hadn’t anticipated the choice leading her here.
The cloudless desert sky—vivid blue and endless—stretched above as she pulled open the door to the police department before stepping into the blessed relief of the air-conditioned building.
“May I help you?” the woman at the front desk asked on a smile.
Sienna smiled back, though not quite as widely. “Sienna Walker here to see Sergeant Dahlen.”
“Oh, hi! You’re the new detective from New York, right? I’m Chelle Lopez. Nice to meet you. What do you think of Reno so far?”
“Hi, Chelle. Nice to meet you too. And I’m actually from Reno. Originally, I mean.”
A look of surprise lit Chelle’s round face. “Oh, well then, welcome home.”
Sienna schooled her expression, even while a knot twisted in her stomach at Chelle’s words, and she watched as the woman picked up the phone and let Sergeant Dahlen know she was there.
“She’ll be out in just a minute.”
“Great, thanks,” Sienna said as Chelle picked up another call. Soon she was laughing at something the person on the other end said and lowering her voice as she chatted on what was obviously a personal call.
Sienna had barely taken a seat when a very tall, striking woman in her fifties with white-blonde hair in a spiky pixie cut entered the lobby, her eyes focused on her. “Sienna Walker?”
She stood. “Yes. Sergeant Dahlen? Nice to meet you in person.”
The older woman, who was wearing a black pantsuit, a black shirt, and red high heels, moved toward her and shook her hand quickly as Sienna lifted her chin, attempting to see eye to eye with the woman and failing. “You can follow me this way.”
Sergeant Dahlen led her through the station, buzzing with the midday activity of a busy police force, her long legs causing Sienna to have to hurry to keep up. They entered an office, and Sergeant Dahlen closed the door behind them. She gestured to a chair in front of her desk, and they both took a seat as she picked up her phone and asked someone to come to her office. Sienna did a quick sweep of the room, which was completely devoid of clutter and appeared as squared away as the woman who inhabited it.
She replaced the phone in its cradle, leaned back, and crossed her legs as she perused Sienna. “Your captain, Darrin Crewson, and I are both army veterans.”
“Yes, he told me, ma’am.”
“Ingrid.” She paused, her eyes narrowing very slightly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my fellow brothers and sisters in arms.”
Sienna nodded, her nerves tingling. “Yes, and vice versa, Darrin said.” If an icicle morphed into a person, Sergeant Dahlen is what it would look like, Sienna thought. Lovely in a cold, sharp way.