Whispers of You (The Lost & Found Series Book 1)
Whispers of You: Chapter 22

“That’s the last of them,” Abel grumbled.

He’d been muttering and complaining for the last couple of hours as he finished this month’s reports. But the annoyed mumbling was almost a comfort at this point.

“You’re free.”

He glared at me. “Until next danged month.”

I grinned. “The price of being the boss.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do me a favor and take these to the actual boss?”

“You got it.” I pushed to my feet and stretched before I grabbed the stack of papers. It had been slow today. After the events of the past few days, I appreciated the reprieve, but it was also making me go a little stir-crazy.

I wove through the desks, making my way toward Lawson’s office. Clint grinned as he slung a duffel over his shoulder. “Hey, Wren.”

“Hey. You off shift?”

“Yup. Gonna go grab some grub at Dockside. Want to take your lunch?”

I fought the flinch that wanted to surface as I remembered Abel’s words about Clint and Chris. I liked Clint but had zero interest in dating him or anyone else I worked with. “Thanks, but I gotta hang around here.”

Disappointment flickered across his face, but he quickly schooled his expression. “Hope it’s a good rest of the day.”

“For you, too. Enjoy your lunch.”

Guilt flickered as I kept moving toward Lawson’s office. Clint was a good man. He’d always been kind to me. There were times I just felt broken. Like that internal compass was always pointing in the wrong direction when it came to relationships.

Because it was still pointing firmly toward Holt. I slapped that thought away the second it surfaced. It was the last thing I needed swirling around in my head.

A raised voice had me pulling up short outside Lawson’s office.

“It’s bullshit, and you know it, Chief. He doesn’t have an alibi. We should be arresting him and pushing him hard,” Amber said as she paced.

Lawson kept his voice calm and even. “There is absolutely no evidence that Joe had anything to do with this.”

“He’s got that same hatred his brother did. I’ve warned you time and again. I didn’t want it to go this far, and now it has.”

Lawson’s face hardened. “I know you’ve been through hell, but it’s skewing your objectivity. We follow the evidence. Not rumors and gossip.”

“What about your gut? You trust that, don’t you?” she pushed.

Lawson was quiet, but his lack of answer gave Amber everything she needed to keep pressing on.

“My gut has been screaming about Joe Sullivan for years. And I’m not the only one. If you don’t do something about him, people will take action on their own.”

Lawson stiffened, his back going rigid. “You’d better not be suggesting what I think you are, Raymond. That’ll cost you more than your job. You harass that boy, and I’ll take you into custody myself.”

Redness crept up Amber’s throat. “You would protect him over me? I’ve served with you for years. I’m trying to keep the people of this town safe.”

“You need to take a break and get some perspective. I’m giving you paid time off tomorrow. Get your head on straight. If you can’t, you and I will be having another conversation altogether.”

Her cheeks puffed out as Amber struggled to get her breathing under control. Instead of saying anything, she whirled and stormed out of the office, knocking into me on her way past.

My gaze followed her as she charged through the desks and out the front door of the station. My insides twisted themselves into intricate knots. They pulsed and cramped with grief for everyone involved. Joe. Amber. The endless stream of people the shooting had marked.

As I turned back to Lawson’s office, I took him in. He leaned over his desk, his head resting on one hand as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

I stepped inside and quietly shut the door. Taking a seat, I studied the man who had been like a brother to me for my entire life. “What can I do?”

Lawson didn’t look up. “I wish there was something.”

“She’s hurting.”

“I know. But I can’t have her going out and doing something stupid just because she’s in pain.”

I made a humming noise in the back of my throat. “You’re right. And Joe doesn’t deserve this town being on his case. He’s already torn up because of how people around here treat him.”

Lawson straightened, sitting back in his chair. “If you can see that, why the hell can’t the rest of Cedar Ridge?”

I let out a long breath. “Because it’s easier to think there’s a bad guy. An outsider. Someone to look out for. But the truth is we all had a part in what those boys did.”

Lawson stared at me, not saying a word.

“They needed help, and they didn’t get it. We’re supposed to be a community. We look out for each other. People knew they weren’t getting the care they needed at home. But no one stepped in.” I swallowed hard. “I’ll never forget what they did. That terror. But it’s not as simple as two rotten apples. People made them that way.”

A muscle in Lawson’s jaw ticked. “You’re right. I’ve had some minor trouble from Joe, but nothing that would suggest this.” Lawson was quiet for a moment and then seemed to come to a conclusion. “I’m gonna have a word with him.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but Lawson held up a hand to stop me. “I’ll do it out of uniform. Invite him to dinner. Seems like he could use a friend.”

My mouth curved. “You’re a good man.”

He grunted. “Don’t go spreading that around.”

Laughter bubbled out of me. “I hate to break it to you, but the rumor’s already out.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He motioned for the papers in my hand. “Those for me?”

“Abel’s end-of-the-month reports.”

Lawson took them from me. “You’d better go tell him to take lunch. If he doesn’t get fed after paperwork, he can be a real bear.”

I winced and glanced over my shoulder to see Abel muttering to himself. “That ship might’ve already sailed.”

Lawson chuckled. “Hurry. Maybe you can turn it around.”

I did exactly what he instructed, all but running back to our cubicles. “Paperwork dropped off. Why don’t you take lunch?”

Abel eyed me suspiciously. “I packed a lunch.”

“Well, it’s a beautiful day. Why don’t you eat it outside and enjoy the sunshine while things are quiet?”

“Fine. Text me if things get busy,” he huffed.

“Will do.”

I held my breath until Abel disappeared into the break room to get his lunch. The air slowly left my lungs as I turned back to my computer screen. Abel could be prickly as a cactus when he wanted to be, but his heart was ooey-gooey goodness through and through. No crankiness could hide that from the world.

Tapping out a rhythm on my desk, I surveyed the area. There really wasn’t anything to do. We were all caught up on paperwork. No more reports needed to be filed.

My mind started to drift to last night. To the lake. To Holt. How he’d silently watched over me for the past decade. That familiar war of longing and anger took flight inside me. I never knew which one would win out on any given day. Lately, the anger was hitting hard but in short bursts, while the longing was settling somewhere deep in my bones, showing no signs of leaving.

My hand moved to the mouse, and I clicked on solitaire. Anything to distract me from that stormy sea of emotion. I moved the cards around on the screen in a half-hearted attempt to beat the computer.

The phone on my desk rang. In a split second, I’d minimized the card game and was tapping the button on my headset. “Cedar Ridge police, fire, and medical.”

“This is Calvin Dwyer at 65 Alpine Drive. I just heard two shots across the street. I think at the McHenrys’.”

My blood turned to ice. Gretchen. It was the only thing I could think for a full second. Her smiling face filled my mind. The way she had the ability to see the positive side of everything—even the hell we’d been through ten years ago.

“Hold on, Mr. Dwyer. I’m dispatching officers now. Please make sure your doors and windows are locked.”

I hurried to switch over to the radio. “Shots fired at the McHenry home on Alpine Drive. I’m getting an address now.”

It was only blocks from the station. Officers could be there in under a minute. Everyone would be okay.

A series of muted pops sounded over the phone line as officers, including Lawson, responded to the call on the radio.

“Did you hear that?” Mr. Dwyer barked. “That was more.”

“I heard it, sir. Officers are responding. Can you see anyone at the house?”

“I—I don’t think so—wait! Someone’s heading out the back door. They’re wearing a black hoodie.”

I quickly typed the description into our computer system so the officers had it. I could hear the sirens, both leaving the station and near Mr. Dwyer’s home.

“I see a squad car. They’re here.”

“Please stay in your home with the door locked, Mr. Dwyer. An officer will come to speak to you as soon as they’re able.”

“Okay. Thank you.” He didn’t hang up. “I’m shaking.”

Shock. It was beyond understandable. “Can you get yourself some water and take a seat?”

“Water?”

“Or just take a seat. I don’t want you passing out on me.” I typed in a request for the EMTs to check out Mr. Dwyer, just to be safe.

Voices sounded over the radio, officers entering the McHenry house.

“I can do that.”

I forced myself to focus on Mr. Dwyer. “Nice and easy.”

A shuffling sounded in the background, then a cabinet opening and closing before a chair squeaked.

“Slow sips,” I instructed.

“That helps.”

“I’m glad.”

A knock sounded.

“Someone’s at my door.”

“Mr. Dwyer,” a familiar voice called. “This is Officer Jones. I’m here to take your statement and do a medical check.”

Jones was one of the police officers with senior medical training, and I let out a breath, knowing Mr. Dwyer would be in good hands. “You can open the door. That’s one of my colleagues.”

“Thank you—I—thank you.”

“Of course. Stay safe, Mr. Dwyer.”

I disconnected the call the moment I heard Officer Jones inside the home. My fingers found the volume for the radio, and I clicked it up.

Familiar voices crackled across the line, calling out different rooms as clear.

“I’ve got a body,” someone said. “Downstairs bedroom.” A pause. “No pulse. She’s gone.”

“Hell, she’s in a hospital bed connected to oxygen. Who would do something like this?” another voice asked.

Nausea swept through me. Gretchen’s mom. The woman with heart failure that Gretchen had been caring for every single day for the past two years.

“Kitchen,” a shaky voice came across the radio. “Th-there’s no way she’s alive. Oh, God. I can’t—I think I’m gonna be sick.”

The person cut out as someone said the name I’d been dreading.

“It’s Gretchen.”