CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Amy’s by the Bay was in fact owned by a woman named Amy, but it did not have a view of the bay. It did, however, look out across Sinclair Inlet toward the Bremerton shipyard with its mile-long row of navy vessels waiting for their turn to be decommissioned and disassembled for scrap. From their table, the reunion committee could see the ships looking like a string of beached gray whales.
“Stunning view,” Adam Canfield said, his snarky tone in full swing.
“Port Orchard’s true best-kept secret is that it is a waterfront town that looks out at a bunch of rusty ships.”
“That’s the sight of freedom,” Penny said, pointing to an aircraft carrier.
“They’re still ugly.”
“Don’t they come in any other color? Taupe?” Adam smiled. He had that know-it-all Penny right where he wanted her.
“Taupe, Penny? Really, Penny? That’s so two decades ago.” The waitress came and Penny used the intrusion to ignore Adam. Kendall ordered fish and chips and a slice of cheesecake to go. She’d bring it to Cody for dessert that evening. He was back on a strawberry kick. That meant that sandwiches had to have strawberry jam, milk was flavored with Strawberry Quik, and Kendall had to wear a pink coat when they went out together.
“So, Kendall,” Adam began, “what’s going on with the O’Neal case?”
“I can’t really say,” she said.
“You know that.”
“What? Is this some law enforcement code of silence or something?” Penny said, stabbing a shrimp on her salad with a fork like she was on the hunt. Kendall shook her head.
“No, not really. I mean, I really can’t talk about it.”
“Well, I can,” Adam said.
“I talked with Lainie last night. You know when I was checking to see if she’s coming to this meeting.”
“I take it she’s not coming,” Penny said, looking around the table.
“You should be a detective, Penny.” Adam poured a packet of artificial sweetener into his iced tea.
“Actually, she told me a few little tidbits that I can pass along.” Kendall was interested in what Adam was about to say but did not egg him on. Adam never really had to be egged on anyway.
“She thinks her sister had a lover.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Tori was such a slut,” Penny said. Kendall glared at Penny, then focused back on Adam.
“What did she say about that?” she asked.
“She didn’t say anything. She found a condom wrapper in the bedroom.” Penny chomped down on the last of her shrimp, wrinkling her nose a little. As the owner of her own quasi-restaurant, she had to show her disdain for the competition.
“Kind of skimpy here on the shrimp,” she said.
“Aren’t you still trying to slim down before the reunion?” Adam asked. Penny ignored the remark.
“I know this isn’t good food conversation,” Adam said.
“But what’s up with digging up Jason Reed? That’s so gross.” Kendall set down her fork.
“You’re right, Adam, that isn’t good food conversation.”
“I saw it in the paper, too,” Penny said. Adam motioned for some more sweetener.
“I’m glad Lainie wasn’t around when you dug him up. They were pretty serious.” Kendall shook her head.
“No, you got the wrong twin. Tori was dating Jason. And they were not serious. Not at all.” Adam poured the white powder into his drink and stirred.
“I could never get those two girls straight. Who could?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Josh Anderson stood awkwardly outside the women’s restroom at the Kitsap County Sheriff’s Office. A young deputy walked by and gave him a strange look, but Josh shrugged it off. The minute the door cracked open and a records clerk exited, he poked his head inside.
“Kendall, you in there?” A voice came from one of the stalls.
“Yes, Josh, do you mind?” He took a step inside, hoping that Kendall was the only woman in there.
“We got to go,” he said.
“I’m trying to go now,” she said.
“Seriously, Kendall. Mike Walsh has been killed. Church secretary just called it into Cen Com.”
“Our Mike Walsh?”
“Yeah, the Reed accident witness.” Kendall flushed.
“Coming now,” she said. 
From the street it appeared as if the Lord’s Grace Community Church was nothing more than a relic of an old business, an enormous, rusted tin can stuck in the sandy loam of the peninsula. But not so. Outside appearances were so deceiving. The Lord’s Grace Church was paneled inside with quarter-sawn old-growth fir that had been salvaged from somewhere. The interior of the building glowed pink, like the interior of an enormous scallop shell. But that day none of that mattered because tragedy had visited there in a very big, bloody way. The church had not seen such commotion and traffic since the funeral for a firefighter who’d been killed in the line of duty the previous summer. An ambulance, a trio of the black-and-white Kitsap County Chevy Blazers, and a horde of onlookers crowded the parking lot. Forensics had already begun processing the scene when the Kitsap County detectives arrived in Josh’s blue BMW, one of the rare times when he offered to drive. Josh parked behind the church, and the detectives followed the painted plywood sign that indicated the location of the office.
“This place is a dump. Gives me another reason to be glad I don’t go to church,” Josh said. Kendall looked at him before returning her gaze to the celestial Quonset hut. On the edge of the walkway, a box marked FREE was filled with canned goods.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Church might be a good thing. Surely a needed thing.”
“You believe in all that shit?”
“I do. I thank God every day for the gifts he’s given me—Steven and Cody.” Josh looked uncomfortable.
“I guess so. Not sure what God has to do with any of it. And considering that the pastor was murdered, I’d say God didn’t do much for him, either.” Kendall wasn’t a regular churchgoer, but challenges in her life had brought her to the place where she folded her hands and asked for guidance. She didn’t say so right then, but one of the people she prayed for was Josh Anderson. She also prayed about things that she’d done in the past, and for forgiveness for any mistakes she’d make in the future. Mostly it was about the past.
“Nice ride,” one of the uniformed officers said, indicating the BMW.
“It gets me here and there,” Josh said, as the officer held up the plastic yellow crime-scene barrier for the detectives to pass under. Kendall didn’t say a word. Josh Anderson’s life had been reduced to one bright spot—a car. She made it a point to let him bask in any attention that came his way. In the office, at a latte stand, or even at a crime scene. Josh had been down so low that a little boost was probably a good thing.
