Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I want to.” Her tone was firm. “Partners, remember?”
“Partners,” Brooks agreed.
After they hung up, he sat watching the Austin skyline until the sun set. This city had been his life for fifteen years. He’d built a career here, made friends, lost people he loved. But it wasn’t his future anymore.
That night, Brooks took a box from his suitcase. Traci’s badge gleamed in the lamplight, the metal polished by her family before they’d given it to him.
He traced the badge number with his finger. 2847. Traci had been so proud of that number—her father’s old badge, passed down when he retired.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Brooks whispered. “But I’m trying to honor what you taught me. Trust my instincts. Listen when people warn me. Don’t let the data blind me to the truth.”
He set the badge on the nightstand. Tomorrow he’d pack it carefully to take to Westerly Cove. Display it somewhere he’d see it every day. Not as a reminder of failure, but as a memorial to a good cop and a better friend.
His phone buzzed. Vivienne again.
Dawn says you’re not allowed to bring any Austin sadness back with you. Her words, not mine.
Brooks smiled.
Tell Dawn I’m leaving the sadness here. Just bringing the lessons.
Three dots appeared, then:
Good. Because we have enough ghosts in Westerly Cove already. We don’t need yours too.
He laughed. When had he last laughed about Traci? About Austin? About any of it?
He typed:
See you tomorrow
Vivienne Hawthorne
Looking forward to it
Brooks set his phone aside and opened his laptop. Sullivan had sent him the official offer letter for the permanent position. Detective, Westerly Cove Police Department. Salary, benefits, vacation time. Standard terms for a small-town cop.
He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
He signed the digital paperwork and sent it back. Effective immediately.
The flight the next day was smooth. Brooks spent it reading Vivienne’s grandmother’s journals—Emmeline had documented decades of Westerly Cove history, including details about the Aldrich family that had proven invaluable during the investigation.
One passage caught his attention:
The gift manifests differently in each generation. Josephine saw visions in water. I read impressions from objects. Cordelia heard the dead singing. And my Vivienne will see the patterns that connect past to present, death to truth.
I’ve seen who will come for Vivienne. A boy who visited my shop once, frightened and grieving. He’ll return as a man who needs saving as much as she does.
They’ll save each other, if they’re brave enough to try.
Brooks read the passage three times. Emmeline had seen him at thirteen and known he’d come back for Vivienne. Had known they’d need each other.
The old woman had been right about everything else. Maybe she was right about this too.
When the plane landed, Brooks collected his bag and headed for arrivals. He spotted Vivienne immediately—auburn hair catching the afternoon light, gray-green eyes scanning the crowd. She wore a teal dress and boots, the same outfit from the day they’d met.
When she saw him, her face changed. Not a polite smile. Real joy.
Brooks closed the distance between them, and for a moment they just looked at each other.
“Welcome home,” Vivienne said.
“Good to be home.” Brooks meant it.
They walked to her car together. She updated him on the town—the Mystic Cup was busy, Dawn was managing well, Martha Morgan had stopped by to thank Vivienne again.
Brooks talked about Austin. The conversations with Rodriguez and Marcus. The closure he’d found in saying goodbye properly.
“You’re different,” Vivienne observed as they drove north along the coast. “Lighter somehow.”
“I feel lighter. Like I’ve been holding my breath for three years and finally exhaled.” Brooks watched the ocean appear between buildings. “Coming back here feels right. Not like running away. Like coming home.”
“To Westerly Cove, or . . .?”
“To the work we’ve been doing. To whatever comes next.” He looked at her. “If you’re still willing.”
“I’m willing.” Vivienne’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Scared, but willing.”
“Me too. On both counts.”
They drove in silence for a while. The lighthouse appeared on the horizon, its beacon dark in the afternoon sun.
“Sullivan’s throwing a small welcome-back dinner tomorrow night,” Vivienne said. “Very unofficial. Just him, Dawn, Martha, and Old Jack. They wanted to celebrate you staying permanently.”
“That’s kind of them.”
“You’ve earned it. You solved a case that had been cold for twenty-five years. Found victims no one else could find. Brought down a criminal empire.” She glanced at him. “The town’s grateful, even if some people can’t admit it yet.”
“How’s Mrs. Pennington handling things?”
“About as well as you’d expect. She’s still convinced I’m a menace who destroyed a founding family out of spite.” Vivienne’s mouth quirked. “But she’s in the minority now. Most people see what the Aldriches really were.”
“And what about you? How are you handling it?”
“Better. Dawn’s been amazing, running the shop when I need rest. My abilities are recovering—I can sense spirits again without it exhausting me.” She pulled into the police station parking lot. “Sullivan wanted me to drop you here first. Said he has something for you.”