was. That knowledge had grown into a belief that sustained him.
Dan tried to imagine the kind of courage it would have taken to go from convicted thief to the quiet, confident man he had just met. Perhaps the admiration he felt came from the belief that he could not have done it himself. Hell, he could barely function now, and it was more than a year since he had lost Susan.
Even as he thought of it, he felt the familiar shaft of grief. She had been his anchor. No matter what his day had brought, he had known she would be there at the end of it. He had clung to that knowledge in the midst of the worst times, when nothing seemed to make sense and the sound of gunfire and racing engines and screaming almost overwhelmed his sanity.
He had always enjoyed his work on the force, first on the street and then as a detective, but when the opportunity to move into the anti-terrorist squad appeared, he didnât hesitate. He savored the challenge of out-thinking his opponents, enjoyed the thrill of the chase, delighted in the adrenalin rush it provided. Truth be told, he loved the danger. It was a natural high that had been addicting. Riding the edge, nerves taut, blood pumping, feeling the thrill. Then coming down with the rest of the guys over a few cold ones. Or more than a few. Then he met Susan.
She had been twenty-eight, three years younger than him. A teacher working at a school for the deaf. She had come to the station to help question a witness, a profoundly deaf boy who used sign language to communicate. She was small and dark, her black hair pulled back in a failed effort to control an unruly mass of curls. He was attracted to her looks, but it was her personality that entranced him: a mix of intense energy and languid grace. She was vivacious, outgoing, and confident, but she channeled it all into a gentle warmth that immediately put the boyâand everyone elseâat ease.
He phoned her the next day and asked her out for coffee. The day after that it was dinner. Within a week he was spending every possible minute with her. Three weeks later he was a fixture in her house, and two months after that, they were married.
She sold her apartment and they bought a house together. Suddenly he found himself spending all his time off painting and sanding, working on projects he had never bothered with before. Together they searched second-hand stores for furniture. On those rare summer afternoons when he wasnât working, they would sit in the garden, relaxing in the shade of a huge crab-apple tree. He was happy. Content in a way he had never known and never expected. He had the best of both worlds.
Not once did he imagine that any part of the job could reach her. Not once did he consider that the violence he sparred with every day could touch her. Until it did. And then it was too late.
He tried to survive it. He told himself that she would want him to continue working. He could even hear her voice telling him it was not his fault. That he was one of the good guys. That his job was important. But none of it worked. After eight months of trying, he put in his resignation.
He had already sold the house. He couldnât go back to it. He couldnât stand the thought of opening the door. Even to turn the corner to the street brought back memories of the evening he had found her sprawled across the table, her white dress dark with blood. Heâd spent the months after her death crashing in hotels or sleeping in his car. He drank too much and ate too little. He avoided friends and colleagues alike.
It was Mike who had finally pulled him out of it. He had found Dan in a pub one night and taken him back to his apartment. The next morning he had fed him breakfast and driven him down to a marina. He knew Danâs love of the ocean. Knew much of his childhood had been spent on a fishing boat. Knew that a boat might be something that could give Dan back a sense of purpose. Maybe even give him a reason to live
Brian Peckford
Robert Wilton
Solitaire
Margaret Brazear
Lisa Hendrix
Tamara Morgan
Kang Kyong-ae
Elena Hunter
Laurence O’Bryan
Krystal Kuehn