Two weeks later, Skyden entered a local coffee shop and found Patrice Orion seated at a window table. She seemed determined to avoid looking like a law enforcement officer. Unrecognizable in a ball cap and dark sunglasses she almost pulled it off. Skyden approached with a broad smile but when Patrice removed her sunglasses Skyden noticed a dullness in her eyes.

"This is probably not a good idea," said Patrice, drumming her fingers lightly on the table.

"I needed to see you." Skyden sat. "Thanks for agreeing to meet."

Patrice shrugged. "I got a lot of time on my hands." She spotted Skyden's stitched hand.

"I'm okay." Skyden placed her hand on the table and covered it with the other. "You're suspended?"

"I'm on administrative leave."

"That's not right."

"They insisted." She looked up at the ceiling fan spinning in lazy circles.

The conversation seemed out of place against the backdrop of painted grassy green walls peeking out between playful dog-themed artwork.

"They should be awarding you the Medal of Valor," said Skyden.

"I didn't exactly follow standard police protocol discharging a civilian's personal weapon in a populated neighborhood. Not a good look."

"You saved our lives. I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you. And neither would Kelsey."

"It was a reckless thing to do." Patrice sipped her coffee. "Suppose your husband would have walked into that room two minutes earlier and stepped into the line of fire."

"But he didn't."

Patrice said, "I had no idea he was on the premises."

"I didn't, either." Skyden's frown deepened.

Patrice lifted her mug. "I don't mind overpriced coffee if it tastes this good." She sipped.

Neither woman said a word for a full minute, Patrice's eyes on the street outside the coffee shop and Skyden looking across the table, trying to summon the words that would adequately express her undying gratitude.

She looked over her shoulder toward the counter thinking maybe she should order a coffee and then became self-conscious of the pink jagged wound on the back of her neck, peeking out from beneath her scarf. If the detective noticed it, she did not comment.

Two college girls skimmed by the table, barely looking at Skyden and Patrice as they passed.

Patrice stifled something that she was about to say but thought better of it. She glanced out the window at the pedestrians walking by.

"Just between us," Skyden said. "My neighbor, Mr. Washington, is proud of what he did. He said he just wished he'd shot that son-of-a-bitch himself."

A small smile appeared briefly on Patrice's face. "Maybe I was wrong about all of that. Maybe, but it sure doesn't feel like it." She sighed. "And there's more. Velma Schmitzer is coming for me." She said it without a hint of surprise in her voice or in her eyes. "Not personally. She's threatening legal action."

"That's totally insane." Skyden repeated it softly. "Insane."

Patrice shrugged and turned toward the window. "In today's judicial system, I wouldn't bet against her."

Skyden coughed softly into her first and leaned back in her chair realizing that there were two women at this table struggling with how they were going to put their lives back together. Skyden wondered if she could ever move on from the ugliness and the trauma, and Patrice likely thinking that maybe she'd come to the end of her road as a law enforcement officer.

"So, anyway..." Patrice finished her coffee. "Ms. McKenzie–"

"Skyden."

"Skyden, no matter the outcome, I'd do it all over again."

........

Skyden set her wheelie on the conveyor belt. Cam followed, a pleasant little smile on his face watching his son in the next lane.

Kesley looked over her shoulder at the line of passengers crowding forward and rolled her eyes at her brother who struggled to get out of his shoes. "If you could speed it up, that would be awesome," she said.

"Why do they make you take your shoes off anyway?" Brick plopped down on the floor and tugged at his shoe.

"Oh, my God! If we miss our flight because of you," she grumbled.

"Sorry. The last time I was at the airport, I was a toddler, okay?"

"Relax," said Skyden. "We have plenty of time."

They were headed for Belize, where, in a few short hours, they'd be dipping their toes in the warm aqua waters of the Caribbean Sea. She couldn't wait to get out of the city, someplace far away, and spend her days doing nothing but relaxing with her family. She smiled at the thought of leaning back in a canvas beach chair slathered with suntan lotion with a tropical cocktail in her hand under a colorful umbrella. If they felt adventurous, the McKenzies might day trip to the Mayan ruins but if sightseeing required too much effort, so be it.

The TSA agent waved urgently, finally getting Brick to his stocking feet. He pointed at the bin. Brick deposited his shoes in the bin and the agent waved him through the full body scanner, barking orders as though he was still learning to speak English.

The McKenzies dragged their carry-ons onto the tram and in a short time, arrived at their gate with plenty of time to spare. More good news, the flight was listed as 'on time.' They'd be boarding in twenty-five minutes.

Skyden chose a seat near the window overlooking the tarmac. A hot haze hovered above the runways.

"I'm gonna get a magazine," said Kelsey. "Watch my bag, okay?" Before Skyden could reply, Kelsey was off with her brother tagging along.

Cam sat across from his wife, a few seats down from a man with a weathered complexion, sitting like a sack of cement, sound asleep, arms crossed and head hung.

She felt the cool air conditioning on her skin and she pulled up her collar, self-conscious about the cut across the back of her neck that was taking its good old time healing. She glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

When she saw it, her body went stiff, her lungs hurt like they were filled with needles. There lying beside Kesley's carry-on bag was a red Scrunchie. She heard Walter's voice still screaming in her ears, "Make her ready for me. Do it." She snapped her head to the right and then to the left, scanning, searching.

Seeing his wife in distress, Cam rose from his seat and approached slowly. Skyden dropped her eyes from her husband back to the Scrunchie but this time saw it more clearly. A red, crinkled candy wrapper lying on the floor like a discarded origami sculpture.

"Kit Kat," she said as her husband drew closer. An uneasy smile unfurled with the realization.

"What?" Cam said.

"Just a Kit Kat wrapper," she said, imposing a flicker of a smile on her face.

"Uh-huh," he replied, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She sucked in a big, jittery breath her eyes locked on the red candy wrapper. Walter was gone now. Dead as a stone. She couldn't let him take over her life. He was dead. Gone forever. She wouldn't allow the monster to live inside her, crawling into her thoughts and dreams. She needed to erect a barrier, a thick, immovable wall. She was committed to the task of building it stone by stone.

Cam leaned forward, his forehead against hers for a moment and then he stepped back to look at her, giving her that wonderful Cam smile that said everything's going to be alright. She felt it slowly making its way through her body, that certainty that he provided. Brick and Kelsey came up from behind them laughing and being loud the way excited kids do and Skyden bathed in the glow of it all. She was with her family. They were headed for a vacation adventure and everything was going to be alright. She understood that the first step in her healing process was getting on that plane and once it lifted off from the ground, watching Pittsburgh out the window growing smaller and smaller and further away.

THE END