And I am? Jamie wanted to yell at him, but she could already hear his argument to that: You’re taking care of your daughter already. You can take care of your sister.
“Let’s go,” Debra said, and they both hustled into their car.
Back inside the house, Jamie was seething as she cleared up the meager remains of the hors d’oeuvres when Harley and Marissa cruised back into the kitchen.
“That whole thing was freaky,” said Harley. “Weird, thinking Grandma’s out in the garden.”
“Weirder than having her on the mantel?” Jamie muttered.
Harley shrugged and made a face.
“I thought it would be . . . different, I guess,” said Marissa. “Creepier.”
“It was good.” Jamie’s tone said the matter was closed as she plunged her arms into soapy water and began washing the dishes. “It was good for Emma. Mom is now where she would want to be. Emma was right.”
“Did you tell . . . Grandpa . . . about being ‘called’?” Harley asked.
“No.” Jamie was abrupt She dared a glance at Marissa, who was tuned into her phone. She shot a second look at Harley, who shook her head, indicating she hadn’t told her friend about their similar dreams.
Marissa groaned. “My mom’s coming to get me. I’m not going to tell her what we did.”
Jamie said, “Spreading the ashes? You didn’t tell her?”
Marissa blinked.
“I don’t think you should keep it from her,” Jamie went on more firmly. “This was never a secret. She should know that.”
“Maybe,” Marissa muttered. After some thought, she added, “It was weird, but it was cool. I’m glad I came.”
“Don’t keep it from her,” Jamie warned. “That makes it seem like we’re . . .”
“Hiding it?” Harley suggested.
“Something like that.”
“Oh, it’ll be okay,” Marissa said.
Jamie’d heard that before.
Emma appeared at that moment in her pajamas, blue flannel pants and a long-sleeved top with a pattern of black Scottie dogs. “I heard what you said to Dad,” she informed Jamie.
Jamie tried to think what exactly that was. “Um . . . ?”
“I can take care of myself,” Emma declared.
“Oh.”
“I can!”
Sensing a fight brewing, Harley grabbed Marissa’s arm. “We’re going outside to wait for her mom.”
Marissa protested, “It’s cold out there.”
“We’re still going there.” Harley steered her friend away.
When the door shut behind them, Jamie turned back to Emma. “I know you can take care of yourself, but you do need some help.”
“Nope.”
“Yes,” Jamie said tiredly. She rinsed off the dishes and began stacking them on the counter rack. She was going to have to get the dishwasher fixed ASAP.
“Well, you don’t have to do it,” her sister answered a touch belligerently.
“Emma, I’m going to do what I need to do to make sure you’re safe, Harley’s safe, and I’m safe. That’s what I’m going to do.”
“I’m not a burden!”
“Oh, Emma.” Jamie felt her chest swell with emotion. She wanted to break down and cry. She didn’t know how to explain that caring for Emma was just part of all the changes that had hit her like a freight train.
After a long, silent minute, Emma walked around Jamie and straightened the dish towels one more time. “I don’t like Debra,” she said. “And I don’t think I like Dad either.”
Jamie managed a faint smile, nodding.
Harley burst back in at that moment, followed by a swirl of cold air. She slammed the door shut and said, “Shit, it’s like negative degrees out there! Marissa’s mom picked her up. She looked kind of pissed off. No wonder Marissa doesn’t want to tell her about spreading Grandma around.” She cocked her head as she looked at them. “You two . . . okay?”
“We’re fine,” Jamie said.
“We’re sisters,” Emma added, as if that explained it all. “And don’t swear.”
* * *
“You’re with River Glen PD?” the bartender asked Cooper as he brought him his second beer.
“Off duty,” Cooper said, eyeing the man who, after delivering the beer, was now leaning over the bar next to him.
“I think you were in here once, when I was here. Yeah, I think you got pointed out to me one time by a friend of mine, but not of yours. He said you were . . . well . . . it wasn’t polite.”
Cooper occasionally patronized the Waystation and had come to the bar tonight thinking, in the back of his mind, that he might run into someone he knew, so he wasn’t surprised that the bartender had connected him with someone else.
“One of my old classmates, likely,” he said with a thin smile.
“Don’t know, man. Could be, I guess.”
Cooper didn’t have to work hard to make a guess. Dug Douglas. Dug had had a serious problem with Cooper’s occupation and had made no bones about it. “Patrick Douglas. Goes by Dug.”
“Ah, you know.” The bartender shrugged and moved away. “Maybe ‘friend’ is the wrong term,” he added, as if he’d decided maybe he shouldn’t pick sides between Douglas and “the cop.”
Cooper ordered a burger and fries. No one he knew came in while he was working his way through them, and soon enough he was ready to leave. He checked the notes on his phone and thought some more about the attack on Emma. Seeing Jamie had stirred up all the uncomfortable edges of a crime he felt had never been adequately explained. Seemed like a good time to do something about that, if he could.
Throwing money on the counter, he left, stepping out into a coolish night with a stiffening breeze. The person he needed to contact first was Mike Corliss, the detective, now retired, who’d overseen the investigation into Emma’s attack.
He had the guy’s email address, and maybe even a phone number, if he dug into the official files. He would contact him tonight.
His phone rang as he climbed into his Explorer. He glanced at the screen. Marissa. “Hello, there,” he answered, happy to hear from her.
“I need to live with you,” she said abruptly. “I told Mom why I went to Harley’s place and she freaked out, like I knew she would. I
