North Country(82)

“He hopped into the back that morning and Holt didn’t notice until he went to fill up in town. He was already late to get to where he was going, so he put the cat in the passenger seat and spent the day with him.” A wistful smile touches Emery’s plump lips. “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Memories were all I had to keep me alive. Those and my mother’s letters,” I admit. I clung to them like a rope tossed into the dark well where I dwelled, my only lifeline back to the light.

Her smile slips away. “I don’t think a truck is going to roll up and bring Holly home.”

“No, I know. My point is, you could never have figured out that my father took a road trip with a barn cat.”

She purses her lips and I expect her to argue, but she merely nods.

“Are you gonna look into that Murphy we saw at the rink?” When Emery left me, it was to walk over and talk to him.

“Terry’s on it.” She hesitates. “I shouldn’t be talking about the case with you.”

“You have a habit of doing things with me you’re not supposed to be doing. ”

Emery’s cheeks flush as she pushes a hand through her lengthy hair. “About that—”

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did the day that detective questioned me on the porch. I panicked. But I didn’t mean what I said. I don’t want you to stay away.” I occupy my focus and my hands on the row of combs laid out on the table to dry after they’re clean, while I wait for her to list all the reasons that she should.

Emery wanders over to realign the saddle pads I hung earlier, shifting some half an inch this way, others half an inch that way, until her hand stalls on the embroidered I.S. initials my mother stitched into the one Isla uses. Isla Sanders. Too bad the kid wasn’t born a McAllister. Or better yet, a Landry. “They’ve always treated her like one of their own, you know,” she says on a deep inhale. “Even before my parents died.”

“My mom wrote about her nonstop. Every letter, there was some update about Isla.” Emery too. “I felt like I knew her before I ever met her. You’ve raised a good kid. Even with a dickhead for a father.”

She bursts out laughing, but the sound is off.

That’s when I notice the tears streaming down her cheeks. I abandon the grooming tools and close in, scooping her into my arms.

Emery doesn’t fight it, sinking against me, her entire body shuddering with ratcheting sobs. What’s driving it, I can only guess. Holly’s case, her parents’ death, her daughter’s heartache, me.

Probably all of it.

I pull her in tighter as a lump swells in my throat. I don’t have much to offer, but I can offer her this.

“I’m sorry.” Her words are muffled.

“No. Don’t you dare.” I kiss the top of her head before I rest my chin on it, letting my fingers weave through her hair. “I’ll do this all night.” Is it wrong to hope she’ll let me? I close my eyes and hold her, wishing she could pass all her pain on to me to bear.

Eventually, she quiets, but thankfully she doesn’t pull away, turning to rest her cheek on my chest. “I don’t know how to do this,” she whispers.

I stroke strands of hair off her forehead. “Do what? ”

“Any of it.” She sniffles against me. “Be a cop when my daughter needs her mother. Be a mother when Holly and her parents and my detachment need a cop. When you told me Isla wished she’d been there that night, all I could think about was how I was there. I saw Holly sitting in the back of that pickup, and I barked at her to go home. What I should have done is driven her there myself, or called Jenny.”

“That wasn’t your responsibility.”

“Wasn’t it, though? If my fifteen-year-old daughter was hanging out outside a busy bar, and her best friend’s mother witnessed her doing what I did, I’d expect a phone call to come and get my kid.” She adds after a beat, “And then I’d ground her ass for the next year.”

“And is that what Holly’s mother would have done?”

“I doubt it. Holly was always off somewhere, making friends and grabbing rides. But God, saying that makes me feel guilty, like I’m blaming Jenny. You should have seen her today. I almost didn’t recognize her. She’s a husk, living off caffeine and Ambien.” Emery brushes at her cheek, wiping away tears. “I wouldn’t be any better, though.”

I vaguely remember Jenny. She was a few years older than us, and she had a big crush on Jay. “This isn’t on you, Em, no matter how much you want to claim all the blame for it. Just like what happened to me and Jay was never Clive’s fault.”

“Yeah, but he thought it was. I watched him carry it all the way to his grave.” She pulls away, leaving me cold.

On impulse, I snag her fingers in mine.

She doesn’t shake my touch, her red-rimmed eyes peering up at me with anguish. “Just like he watched me suffer for so many years after I’d lost my best friend. He used to say that seeing me like that was killing him. I didn’t really understand it. But tonight, I had to look in my daughter’s eyes and tell her that her best friend is very likely dead, and I get it now. I get what he meant. Seeing your child suffer so much and not be able to do a damn thing to fix it.” She sniffles. “And I can’t tell her what happened. I can’t give her that much! At least with you, I knew where you were.”