“Are you a good cop?” The tears were overflowing again. In sympathy or despair, she couldn’t tell. “Eve. Your name’s Eve, isn’t it? Are you a good cop, Eve?”
“Yeah. I’m a damn good cop.”
Now he wept, and she felt her eyes tear up in concert. “Thad, he wanted the same as you. The one clear vision. I like that. Yeah, his one clear vision. They let him bleed to death. They let him die. And for what? For what? Money. It rips my heart.”
“They’ve paid, Sergeant. I can’t tell you what you did was right, or what the judgment on you will be in the end of things. But they’ve paid for what they did to your boy, for what they did to their badge. Ricker’s going to pay, too, I swear it to you, here on the grave of this good cop. He’ll pay for playing them all like puppets. He played you, too. Played on your love for your son. Your grief. Your pride. Will you let him keep pulling your strings? Will you dishonor yourself and your son by letting him win?”
“What can I do?” Tears streamed down his cheeks. “I’ve lost. I’m lost.”
“You can do what Thad would expect of you. You can face it.”
“I’m shamed,” he whispered. “I thought when it was over, I’d be glad. I’d be free. But I’m shamed.”
“You can make up for it, best you can. You can erase some of the shame. You can come with me, Sergeant. You can be a cop now and come with me.”
“Prison or death.” He looked at her again. “Those are hard choices.”
“Yes, very hard. Harder to live, Sergeant, and balance the scales. Let the system make its judgment on you. That’s what we believe in, people like us, what we work for when we pick up the badge. I’m asking you to do that, Sergeant. I’m asking you not to be one of the faces I see in my sleep.”
He bowed his head, rocked, so his tears fell on the flowers he’d laid on the grass. He reached out a hand across the grave, clasped Eve’s. Clung. She sat like that while he sobbed.
Then he leaned forward, pressed his lips to the white cross. “I miss him. Every day.” With a sigh, he
held out his weapon to Eve. “You’ll want this.”
“Thank you.” She got to her feet, waiting for him to get laboriously to his.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, drew in a breath. “I’d like to call my wife.”
“She’ll be glad to hear from you. I don’t want to put restraints on you, Sergeant Clooney. I’d like you to give me your word you’ll go with my aide and walk into Central of your own volition.”
“You have my word on it. Eve. It’s a good name. I’m glad it was you who came today. I won’t forget it was you. It’s spring,” he said as they walked up the rise. “I hope you’ll take time to enjoy it. Winter comes too soon, and always lasts too long.”
He paused at the top where Peabody waited with Roarke. “Those faces in your dreams? Have you thought they might be coming to thank you?”
“No. I guess I never thought of that. Officer Peabody will accompany you in the black and white, Sergeant. I’ll follow you in. Officer, Sergeant Clooney is turning himself in.”
“Yes, sir. Will you come with me, Sergeant?”
As they moved off, Eve slipped Clooney’s weapon into her pocket. “I thought I was going to lose him.”
“No, you had him the minute you sat down.”
“Maybe.” She blew out a breath. “It’s a hell of a lot easier just to put a boot to their throats. He got to me.”
“Yes. And you to him.” He crouched down, and to her amusement, tugged up her trouser leg and slipped her weapon back into the ankle harness. “Our own variation on Cinderella.”
The laugh went a long way to easing the rawness around her heart. “Well, Prince Charming, I’d ask for a lift to the ball, but how about giving me one in to work?”
“My pleasure.”
They linked hands, skirted around a young tree with leaves unfurling tender green. And walked away from the dead.