Tracy and Dan arrived at the cemetery at just past one in the afternoon and ascended the slope together, hand in hand, stepping between the tombstones to where Jenny’s family waited patiently at the top.
Tracy had stayed in close contact with Jenny and the Klickitat County prosecutor, but her involvement had otherwise been limited, and it likely would remain that way. Eric Reynolds had pled guilty to vehicular homicide, for which no statute of limitations existed. His lawyer could have argued that Eric was not the proximate cause of Kimi Kanasket’s death, that his father had been an intervening cause, but Eric wasn’t interested in legal arguments. He knew he’d have to go to prison, and he wasn’t fighting it. The prosecutor was recommending four years and a fine of $50,000. With good behavior, Eric Reynolds would be out in two years.
No charges were filed against Hastey Devoe. He’d served thirty days in jail for his latest DUI conviction and upon release was placed on seven years’ probation. A requirement of his release was that he regularly attend Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Instead, Eric Reynolds had paid $60,000 for Hastey to enter a six-month inpatient addiction center in Oregon that would treat not only his alcohol addiction but also his weight and self-esteem issues.
Ron Reynolds had refused to plea. He was being held without bail at the Klickitat County jail. The prosecutor was pursuing a second-degree murder charge.
The ceremony to name the stadium for Ron Reynolds had been permanently canceled, and Eric had withdrawn his father’s name from consideration. Instead, at Eric’s request, the stadium would be renamed Kimi Kanasket Memorial Stadium. The ceremony was to take place at a football game the following fall. élan Kanasket had called and invited Tracy to attend, and told her that several thousand Native Americans intended to caravan from the Yakama Reservation to Stoneridge for the ceremony.
Jenny stepped from the gathering and greeted Tracy. The two women hugged. “Thanks for coming,” she said.
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Tracy said. Buzz Almond’s final resting place afforded views of the Columbia River Gorge and both Mount Adams and Mount Hood. “It’s a beautiful spot.”
“My father bought it when they made him sheriff,” Jenny said. “I guess he figured he’d die in office, one way or another. He was always big on putting down roots.”
Tracy greeted the rest of the family. Anne Almond looked thinner but still stately in a soft blue dress, and the kids were again in their Sunday best, fidgeting like racehorses in the starting gate.
The same priest who had presided over Buzz Almond’s funeral performed the ceremony, blessing the blue-tinted marble headstone and sprinkling it with holy water.
Theodore Michael “Buzz” Almond Jr.
Klickitat County Sheriff
March 3, 1949–Oct. 25, 2016
After the blessing, members of the family stepped forward to place items at the grave, as Jenny had informed Tracy when she’d invited her. Tracy didn’t know the significance of each gift, but clearly they meant something to each family member. One of the grandsons left a model airplane; a granddaughter left a small stuffed elephant. Sarah and her brother, Trey, walked hand in hand with Jenny and Neil. Trey left a baseball. Sarah left a tiny plastic pony. When the family had finished, Tracy reached into her purse and retrieved the slip of paper she’d brought with her. She walked to the tombstone, bent to a knee, and placed the final closing papers on the Kimi Kanasket investigation against the blue stone.
“Rest in peace, Buzz Almond,” she said.
At the conclusion of the ceremony, Jenny said, “We’re going to have lunch back at the house. Very informal. Can you come?”
“Thanks,” Tracy said, squeezing Dan’s hand, “but we’re going to get started for Sunriver.”
Jenny gave them each a hug. “Thanks for everything you did,” she said to Tracy. “It meant so much to me and to my family.”
“It wasn’t me,” Tracy said. “It was your father. He did all the legwork. This was his investigation.”
“You’ll come back soon and visit?” Jenny asked.
“Count on it,” Tracy said. “And when you come to Seattle, you call. You tell Sarah and Trey that Auntie Tracy will take them anytime the two of you want a night on the town.”
Jenny looked to Dan. “You on board for that, Dan?”
“If I can handle Rex and Sherlock, I think I can handle a couple of kids.”
Tracy laughed. “You have no idea,” she said.
Inside the Tahoe, Dan buckled his seat belt but didn’t start the engine. “If you’d like to go to the reception, I don’t mind.”
Tracy shook her head. “Thanks, but I want this to be our time together.”
Dan looked suddenly serious. “Speaking of time together, I have something to talk to you about.”
“Okay,” she said, uncertain from his solemn tone what might be coming next.
“I’m going to be moving.”
“What?”
“I’ve come to realize that at this point in my life, Cedar Grove is just too isolated, and it isn’t healthy being alone that much.”
Tracy felt as though she’d been kicked in the gut. “Where are you thinking of going? Back to Boston?”
“Boston? No. Why would I go back to Boston?”
“I don’t know. I just thought—”
“Boston is in the past,” Dan said, still looking serious. “And you know I don’t like cities. Do you want me to move back to Boston?”
“No. I just . . . I’m confused. Start over. Where are you moving to?”
Dan smiled, and Tracy realized he’d been playing with her. “I found a little five-acre farm in Redmond that’s got a small fixer-upper on it to keep me busy, and a stream, and plenty of pasture for Rex and Sherlock.”
Tracy punched Dan in the arm. Redmond was just half an hour from downtown Seattle.
“Ow. I thought you’d be happy,” he said.
Tracy tried to be upset, but she could feel her entire face flush and couldn’t keep from smiling. “I’m not sure about this,” she said, playing coy. “What about your law practice?”
“Well, seeing as how most of my work is down here now, it seems to make sense.”
“So this is a business decision,” she said.
“I wouldn’t call it business. I’d call it very personal.” He leaned across the car and kissed her.
When their lips parted, Tracy said, “But you love Cedar Grove, Dan.”
“I do,” he said, reaching out, touching her chin, and drawing her closer. “But I love you more.”
They kissed again, and this time when they parted, Dan sat back. “Besides, I’m not selling the house. I thought it would be a great place for the two of us to get away on the weekends to do some fishing and hiking. Maybe play a little golf.”
Tracy cleared her throat. “You know I don’t golf.”
“No, but I can teach you.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. The last time you gave me a lesson, we ended up in bed together.”
“Oh, I remember,” he said. “And as your golf instructor, I’m recommending frequent lessons.”
“Then I’m hoping my second lesson will be tonight,” Tracy said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS