Page 92 of Close Her Eyes

“Whatever you said, I appreciate it. Mett and Amber had me over for dinner after the Collins case. It was nice. I felt…like a part of something again. He didn’t have to do that, but he did.”

Over the lump in her throat, Josie said, “Mett was a good guy.”

Was. The word still made her want to scream.

Luke reached into his pocket and pulled out a large fishing lure with fluorescent green feathers flared at its base. He placed it next to one of the painted rocks. “Everyone always brings flowers,” he explained. “Thought I’d do something different.”

“Mett loved fishing,” Josie acknowledged.

They stood in silence for a moment. Blue let out a small groan and then lowered himself to his stomach. Luke chuckled. “That means he’s ready to go. You going to be okay here? Noah’s not with you?”

“Flying solo today,” Josie said. “I’ll be fine.”

“And when you leave here?”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I know you never wanted to talk about it with me, but Josie, I know you’ve been through some shit, same as me.” He held up his hands. She was so used to them now that she hardly noticed anymore how badly mangled they were. During the case that had ended his career and their relationship, he’d been kidnapped and tortured. Both of his hands had been completely shattered. The surgeons had done their best to repair them and he had excellent function, but they looked monstrous. Scar tissue marred almost every inch. The index and middle fingers of his right hand were almost completely flattened. The tip of his left pinky finger turned outward at an unnatural angle.

Josie thought of the stitches she’d received in the hospital—gone now, with barely a mark left—and how difficult it had been. “Yes,” she said. “A lot of trauma, you and me.”

“You more than me,” Luke said pointedly. “I just hope that Mettner’s death doesn’t make it worse. Doesn’t make you…”

“What?” Josie said. “Make me what?”

“More afraid.”

The words went through her, leaving behind a ripple in her psyche. Since their last conversation, she’d thought a lot about all the choices she had made from a place of fear.

Luke jammed his hands back into his pockets and lifted his chin, motioning to someone approaching from the direction Josie had just come. Blue was on his feet, tail wagging furiously. When Amber reached him, she too stopped to pet him, scratching his head and murmuring soft words into his floppy ears.

Luke lightly nudged Josie’s arm with his elbow. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”

She tried to say something, but the words got lodged in the back of her throat. She watched Luke greet Amber, hug her, say a few words to her and walk off with Blue bounding after him. Josie felt a strange buzz work its way through her body. Anxiety. She’d been wanting to talk with Amber for weeks, but now that they were here, alone, she wanted to run. She knew, intellectually, that Mettner’s death wasn’t her fault. They’d followed procedure, breaking perimeter to respond to gunshots; stopping when they found Dermot’s body; calling for the medic and backup. They couldn’t help it that Vance had started shooting through the door as soon as he heard voices. Mettner had done what he was supposed to do after the initial barrage: try to pull Josie to safety, but Vance had been on them before that could happen. Still, in her nightmares every night, the scene replayed itself in Josie’s mind.

Mettner had followed procedure. They both had. But Josie was here and Mettner was not.

His death wasn’t her fault, but she still felt guilty.

Amber walked up and stood beside her, studying the piles of flowers, stones, and now a flyfishing lure at their feet. Josie chanced a look at her, tried to talk again. Still nothing came.

Amber let out something between a groan and a shriek. Lifting both hands, she ran them through her auburn locks and turned her head toward the sky. This time, she screamed, long and loud. Josie’s instinct was to back away, but her legs wouldn’t move. She had to deliver Mettner’s message. She could do that one thing for him. Amber should know that his last thoughts were of her.

Finished with her raw display of emotion, Amber turned toward Josie. “I’m angry,” she said. “But I don’t blame you. You should know that.”

Josie wondered if she’d feel better if Amber blamed her.

“I know you’ve been trying to talk to me since Finn died. I’m sorry. I just wasn’t ready.”

“No need to apologize,” Josie said. “We don’t have to talk now if you’re still not ready.”

“No,” Amber said. “I know you were there when he…when he went. I need to know what it…what it was like.”

Josie felt like a thousand thorns had taken up residence in her mouth. “It was fast,” she managed. “Very fast. He was—he did everything he could to save both of us. He did everything right. It’s just the bullets—”

Amber raised a hand. “I already know how he died. The bullets, the vest, his armpit, all of that.”

“There’s something else,” Josie said. She’d thought long and hard about how to deliver Mettner’s final message.Tell Amber I…She didn’t know how he’d intended to finish the sentence. The best she could do was guess. She’d lost many hours of sleep trying to do just that. She’d lost sleep over deciding whether or not she should finish the message. Was it kind or cruel to leave it unfinished? If she told Amber the truth, would she spend the rest of her life trying to guess on her own? Did Josie want to do that to her?

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