Page 166 of Family Affair
Epilogue
Six Months Later
Lucy’s behind stuck up at an awkward angle as she peeked out of the front window trying not to be seen from the street. Definitely, her mother was a subpar spy material.
“I think I can hear his truck coming,” Lucy whispered.
“Why are you whispering, Lucy?” Stella asked, a puzzled frown creasing her forehead.
“Oh. I don’t know. Seems like a thing to do.”
“Is it him or not?” Coco asked with impatience. They’ve been waiting for Cade to finally come home for hours, congregated in their living room with a surprise party in mind. The waiting was wearing thin on her nerves. She felt almost burnt out from so much expectation.
And naturally, he was late. The corrections authorities processed things on their own schedule.
Despite his aquittal in Ward Williamson’s murder case, his jail break had landed Cade right back in county jail for a year, but today he was being released after only six months to probation.
Ross’s phone dinged. “He’s almost here. And I think he’s getting annoyed at my subtle inquiries to his whereabouts.”
“Which tells me how subtle they are,” Stella grumbled, and Ross shot her a cross look.
Stella had grudgingly accepted that Cade would be a permanent part of Coco’s life, but couldn't promise any warm-and-fuzzies toward him or his brothers, no matter how dazzling.
“I have a meeting to attend, so I’m with you,” Ross said curtly. “He can come home already.”
“He’ll get here in no time.” Lucy straightened up from her lookout position by the window and went to tidy up the room for a hundredth time. “I think the sign is a nice touch. Very artistic, Coco. I know Cade will appreciate the artwork.”
Coco eyed the sign with great misgivings. With bold blue letters and festive abstract designs it was pretty and, in her opinion, pretty cheesy, and she was uncertain if Cade would appreciate it any more than the ribbons and balloons festooning their tiny home for his benefit.
She sighed, feeling fidgety and ignoring a twinge of pain her healed side gave her now and then.
A lot had changed since she had fully regained consciousness in the hospital following the most terrifying night of her life.
Detective Smirnoff had been the first, besides her mother, to stop by for questions but she had flatly rebuffed him. “I’m not speaking with you. Send Willis.”
He had left, threatening all kinds of bad karma to befall her for the obstruction of justice, but nothing happened as a result of her refusal. She had later learned that Jack Willis was booted from the force for good and barely avoided serving time for facilitating Cade’s jail break. His only saving grace was the fact that his investigation, as opposed to that of Detective Smirnoff, produced the real killer of Reverend Williamson.
Jack decided he’d had enough of chasing after the criminal element and wanted to take up something closer to his heart. He was currently in re-training to get his commercial pilot license. Coco was surprised to learn he had flown Apache helicopters during his time in the Army.
Lucy switched on the TV. Ross and Stella settled to watch a show to pass time. The scene reminded Coco of how she watched the news from her hospital bed.
The shooting outside Vamp Arcade had attracted a great deal of media attention, doubly so for the Sheffield family’s involvement. Coco had followed the reports with macabre interest, like rubbernecking on a funeral procession.
Thanks to Cade’s exceptional marksmanship, sharp vision, and steady hand, Dan had suffered only a grazing head wound instead of ending up à la Ward Williamson, with half his skull missing forever. Dan had been treated in the same hospital as Coco and released into the waiting hands of law enforcement. He had been charged with the aggravated assault with intent to kill and given five years in a maximum security prison where he currently resided.
Coco couldn’t say she felt sorry for him.
Rick Sheffield had suffered a massive heart attack at the scene. He survived, but his long-term prognosis was poor. He became bedridden, and his quality of life diminished drastically. Just last month, Ross had finally had him installed in an assisted living facility, to which development Rick was bitterly opposed.
“Tough shit,” Ross had said to her without remorse. “His time of making decisions has passed.”
And that was that.
Ross had taken over what was left of Sheffield Investments, lending his beautiful face and charming smile to the company’s public relations arsenal. It seemed to be doing just the trick, stabilizing the investor pool, and although the company was eventually going to be sold, Ross’s fine form had saved it from toppling over.
“Why does it matter?” Coco had asked him one day when he had visited her at the hospital. “Your heart isn’t in the investment business.”
“It’s a legacy,” Ross had admitted. “I can’t lose it to a bankruptcy. When I sell it - and Iwillsell it - the profits will go to Alex’s children.”
