She saw Rosie on the ground and for a moment, she thought she was hurt. Then she realized she was crying over Abekeni’s still form. Her face was distorted in anger and grief. Naomi knelt on the ground beside her, a lost and bewildered look on her face.
“I don’t see Paul,” Peggy said to Al, fear tasting like brine in her mouth. “Where is he?”
“He’s here.” Al’s voice was calm and deep. “He’s here somewhere.”
They rode around to the left of the crime scene. Al parked the car as Ranson tried to contain Shakespeare, who was throwing himself against the window. Peggy was out before Al could turn off the engine, searching the faces of the people there. Officers took statements from onlookers, glancing at her as she walked by. A paramedic rolled another stretcher from the back of an ambulance while his partner called in someone’s vital signs.
It was at that moment that Peggy saw her son. He was sitting on a curb beside the ambulance holding a thick wad of bandage on his forearm. Blood, a strange dark shade against the white, seeped out around his hand.
“Paul!” She forced herself not to throw her body against him and sob. “Are you all right?”
“I got a crease, Mom. Nothing to worry about.”
“You’ll get a few days off for it, rookie,” Al told him. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
Paul winced as the paramedic moved his hand away from the bandage. “It could have been worse.”
“Always.” Al settled his weighty body beside him on the curb. “What happened here, son?”
“We took the call to check on Harwood’s apartment and got here to find Naomi—or Ms. Bates—and Abekeni trying to get into the building. Abekeni turned and fired. I returned fire. His bullet grazed my arm. He fell to the ground.”
“You killed my son!” Rosie yelled, running toward Paul. “Peggy, your son killed my Abekeni!”
She was stopped by Paul’s partner who looked at Al for instructions.
“Take her and the Bates girl in for questioning.” Al dealt with the problem. He looked down at Paul. “I think you’re headed for the hospital. Good work, Officer Lee.”
Sam and Holles, both barefoot and shirtless, stood outside, watching the scene, confusion on their faces. Peggy couldn’t find the energy to hail Sam and explain. She wanted to fall on the ground and not get up again. Her legs didn’t feel like they had the strength to carry her back to the car.
Sam saw her and walked over to where she sat beside Paul on the ground. “Peggy.”
“Sam.”
He shrugged and nudged some grass with his foot. “So I’m scheduled to do the Parkers’ yard next week. Is that okay with you?”
She smiled. “I’m sure Mrs. Parker wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. If two friends can’t get mad and say a few stupid things to each other without it being the end of the world, what are friends for?”
“Thanks.” Sam looked at Paul. “Thank you, too, dude.”
Paul shook his hand. “That’s my job.”
Sam nodded and left them. He took Holles’s hand and walked back into the apartment building.
“Are you okay, Mom?” Paul asked after the paramedics convinced him he had to ride on a stretcher.
“I will be,” she promised. “Once I go home and totally fall apart, I’ll be fine.” She breathed a silent word of thanks toward the night sky. She’d been lucky this time.
PEGGY WALKED WITH STEVE through the quiet only found in cemeteries. Albert Jackson and Luther Appleby had been buried that morning.
A simple plaque bore Albert’s name. There were no mourners. But Peggy put a bouquet of waxy white lotus flowers on his grave.
“What do those mean?” Steve asked.
“Mystery and truth. I thought they were apt for his ending.”
Steve hugged her close to him. “It was ironic, wasn’t it? Paul killing Darmus’s son.”
“I know.” She drew her black shawl closer to her against the chill. “The kind of irony I could live without.”
She got a late warning from Nightflyer about Abekeni. He’d found a store photo of the young man in an herbal shop in Asheville and managed to produce a receipt for the fly agaric he’d purchased. It was useless in the long run. But it made Peggy decide to take the contract position with the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department. If she could use her knowledge to help people, she was going to do it.
A slight figure came toward them through the misty graveyard. He carried a green Army duffel bag and wore his coat with the collar pulled up close to his face against the cold. His shoulders were bent, his head down. He shuffled his feet through the carpet of leaves that littered the pathway.
Darmus looked up as he approached them. A shaft of sunlight broke through the mist, illuminating his face. “Peggy. I thought I’d find you here.”
She didn’t rush to greet him as she would have weeks ago. Nothing could ever be the same between them again. Even with their long-standing friendship, the shadows of sorrow would stand in the way. “Darmus. Are you leaving?”
