Stella

“You sure you don’t want me to come with you? You look like you could use a friend.”

I stood in the driveway and lowered my sunglasses as Young Phil walked across the street. He was still wearing his suit and it tugged at my heart. He’d taken his father’s place as an usher for the noon mass on Sundays. I knew he planned to head back in the evening to run the Knights of Columbus chicken dinner. Again, stepping in for his father.

“You’re sweet. But no. I’m okay.”

“Hmm.” Phil walked up the driveway, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “You look tired. And skinny. At least promise me you’ll come out to St. Cecelia’s tonight. We’ll have plenty to feed you. And don’t tell me they’re going to feed you after this memorial. If I know you, you’re planning to duck out as fast as you can.”

I shook my head and laughed. “Am I that obvious?”

“Nah. It’s what I’d do. I hate funerals too. Even though I know this isn’t one.”

No. Not a funeral. In some ways it was even worse. I would stand there, with the men Brian loved, and pretend I deserved to be there. I turned and looked back at the house. The landlord had just put the For Sale sign back in the yard.

“You know I hate that,” Phil said. “I wish you’d let me talk you out of leaving.”

I turned and ran my hand down his sleeve. “It’s okay. It’s more than okay. A fresh start. Plus, my parents are thrilled to get me closer to them.”

Just yesterday, I’d called the nursing home in Fort Myers and told them I was coming. It was a risk, they hadn’t officially hired me, but all signs looked good. Worst-case scenario, I could bunk with my parents.

“You’re famous, you know,” Phil said. “Dad’s face lit right up yesterday when I held up the newspaper. Your picture, pretty and bold.”

The town paper had broken the story about the identity theft ring running out of the State Police department. It made national news. I hated being thrust into the center of it, but my lawyer, Tony Gorrell, and Stan assured me it would help put to bed the rest of the drama swirling around my case. With the ten-year anniversary of Brian’s death, the local press went crazy with it. Town outrage ran high. I was the grieving fiancé a decade ago. The face of their grief. Today, I got to be the town victim all over again.

In the wake of all of it, I got a phone call from the principal at Collingwood Elementary and Judy Smith too. Though their offers had been tempting, I knew I needed a clean break. I’d come to Northpointe for closure and after today, I would have it.

“Your man going to be there at least?” Phil asked. My stomach twisted in knots. I hadn’t tried to call Mitch in the three days since I’d left him at the hospital. I’d called Lori Walling though. She let me know that he was doing okay physically and that they’d released him the next day. His body would heal. Now I just had to work on my own heart.

“Mitch? Sorry, Phil. That one didn’t work out. And it’s for the best.”

“Hmm. Honey, I don’t blame you, but you worry too much.”

“So do you.” I leaned forward and gave Phil a peck on the cheek, then another one. “That one’s for your father. I’m going to try and get out to the hospital tomorrow to see him. And to say goodbye.”

Phil’s eyes shone as he looked down at me. He let out a deep breath and pulled me against him. “Okay, hun. Okay. But you call me if you need anything today. I know you’re strong, but you have a friend. Just don’t forget that.”

“Never. And thanks. I’ll be okay.”

Phil gave me a salute as I stepped around him and got into my car. I waved and blew him a kiss as I backed out and headed downtown. I had plans to meet Brian’s father there. He’d wanted to drive together but I knew he’d want to stay for the luncheon afterward. He understood when I said I couldn’t. The one saving grace is I knew Mitch wouldn’t be there. Stan had told me the department thought it unwise. It tore at me that he was going through all of this. Stan assured me that in a few days, the investigation would close and he had no doubt Mitch would be cleared and get back to the business of being a cop. But I knew it was more serious than that. Mitch could lose his badge on top of everything else.

I’d been told to park behind the Public Safety Building. Two uniformed officers recognized me and waved me into a VIP spot. Brian’s father was waiting against the brick wall. His face lightened when he saw me. He looked old and frail. He’d celebrated his seventy-fifth birthday two weeks ago but he looked at least a decade older than that. Thinning wisps of gray hair framed his face and he wore his best suit. Navy blue with a paisley tie. Dapper, was the word. But sad too. Brian Macavoy Sr. had buried a child. The burden of it sagged his shoulders, today more than ever.

“Good morning, Mac!” I said, making my voice bright. Mac. We’d settled on that long ago. Mr. Macavoy seemed too formal. Brian seemed too casual. He’d wanted me to call him Dad or Da but that just wouldn’t do. So he would always be Mac to me.

“Stella you’re a sight for sore eyes.” Beaming, he pushed himself off the wall and came to me. When I hugged him, his bones seemed brittle enough to crack. He smelled of strong soap and spearmint. Sighing, I pulled away.

“It’s no good, Mac. You’re back to a pack a day, aren’t you?”

He wagged a finger at me. “You let me worry about me.” I wrapped an arm beneath his and we started walking. Our uniformed escorts waited at the door, ready to direct us to the dais. We’d sit right behind Chief Lewandowski. I’d agreed to that much, but neither Mac nor I would speak. We’d refused. It was too hard. But Mac would accept another medal on behalf of his son. He’d try to make me take it and I would close his hand around it and trade him a kiss on the cheek, just like we did ten years ago.

The August sun burned so hotly I thought I might melt from it. I wished I’d worn a light cotton dress instead of the pink crepe suit I’d chosen. Then I worried maybe pink was too bright a color for a somber occasion such as this. Mac knew me well. He squeezed my shoulder.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “Just perfect. This day is dreary enough.”

“You’re a wonderful liar and I love you for it. But I almost wish the sun weren’t out.”

“I was thinking the same thing. Today feels like a day for rain. But maybe it’s Brian, you know? He’d want the sun to shine on your pretty face.”

“Come on, heartbreaker. Let’s get this over with.”

“You said it.”

We walked out to the dais together. Mac held my hand. In my three-inch heels, I worried I might break my neck on the portable stairs. Stan Lewandowski looked crisp and regal in his dress blues and cover. He and the other uniformed officers had to be roasting. He took my hand in his white-gloved one and shot me a wink. Just as we were about to ask where to sit, another familiar face burst through the crowd wearing his own crisp uniform, different from the others now that he was with the Marshal service.

“Huck!” I whisper-shouted as he came to me. Huck enveloped me in a great bear hug and I sank into him, shocked at how glad I was to see him. He shook Mac’s hand around me.

“Are you my babysitter for the day?” I said, winking at him.

Huck stood tall and straight. His thick, muscled forearms strained against the blue polyester uniform. He had more medals than the last time I saw him in it. More lines creasing his eyes as well. But he was a friend. A brother. And I was so glad to have him beside me.

“Sounds like you need one,” he said. “Geez, Stella. I leave town for a few weeks and you end up on the front page of the paper again. How’d you enjoy your brief life of crime?”

His blue eyes held a devilish twinkle that made me smile. Officer Hunk. That’s what the girls in Brian’s class had called him. A ladykiller just like Mitch had been back in the day.

Mitch.

No sooner than I said his name in my head than I felt eyes on me in the crowd. Like a tractor beam, my head turned and found him. He was there. Of course he was. In plain clothes, he stood next to a bald man, just as tall, but older. He had a hand on Mitch’s arm and whispered something to him that made him scowl. Then Mitch turned and his eyes met mine.

My knees turned to water and I tightened my grip on Huck’s arm. He turned, about to ask me if something was wrong, but he saw Mitch too and there was no need.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s take our seats. Stan’s going to say a few words first. Then they’re showing a short video about Brian and some of the other officers on the wall. Then we have to sit through the mayor and Congressman Delaney’s speeches.”

“Sounds like a party,” I said, forcing a smile. It took everything in me not to stare in Mitch’s direction. As I scanned the crowd, I recognized a few more members of Brian and Mitch’s police class standing near him in plain clothes.

“Are they going to start a protest march?” I whispered to Huck.

He laughed. “I doubt it. They should though. There’s about ten of them who refused to sit up here if Mitch couldn’t. I should be down there with them. But it’s his squad now, not mine.”

“Huck, who are you kidding? You’ll always be part of that brotherhood. It’s not something that goes away.”

He gave me a sheepish smile and it dawned on me why. Of course. “Oh, you’re busted,” I said. “You’re up here instead of down there because Mitch asked you to. Because of me. Admit it.”

Huck squeezed my arm. “Shh. It’s about to start.”

I kept my left hand on Mac’s knee, my right hand in Huck’s. We held each other up as Stan started to speak. I would have been fine, except he got choked up halfway through. Then Mac started to tear up. When he finished, Stan came to me and leaned in for a hug.

“You were great,” I whispered. “Now stop blubbering, your mascara is going to run.”

This got a laugh out of him, Mac, and Huck and just in time. Stan kissed my forehead, nodded to Mac and took his seat beside us. Then we listened to the mayor speak. He was quiet, solemn, and understated. This wasn’t just about Brian, but the twenty-five other members of the Northpointe PD who’d lost their lives in the line of duty over the last century and more. Some of their families and descendants were out in the crowd and it made me feel guilty again. But it was my face this town recognized, for better or worse.

Then Congressman Delaney got up to speak. Longwinded and blustery, he spoke in platitudes. Twisting the event to the platform of the day the way politicians do. He lost the crowd and maybe that was okay. It let me clear my head and brace for what came next.

The movie screen behind the dais flared to life. A professional voice actor with a deep, sobering voice talked about everyday heroism and sacrifice. My eyes drifted across the dais and over the crowd. Heroism, bravery. All the things these men and women hated to hear about themselves. They did a job. A calling. They never saw it any other way. I loved them. Each and every one. Mitch. Huck. Lori Walling and Officer Smalls. And Stan. He’d always be that beat cop at heart, trying to make the world at least a slightly better place.

When it was over, the hard part came. The K-9 units and mounted patrols moved to the perimeter, clearing a path for the bagpipe corps that had come in from Detroit. Stan went to the Memorial Bell at the center of the dais. As the mayor read the twenty-six names of the fallen, he rang the bell for each one. When he finished, the soulful wail of the bagpipes started and nearly drove me to my knees. Slow, solemn tears fell from the faces of the brave men and women in front and beside me. Mac shook and I held him up.

I looked out, the sun blazing in my eyes. But I found him. Mitch stood still as granite. His gaze found mine, holding sorrow and promise, hope and love. And it was all too much. I wanted to go to him and I wanted to run. In the end, I stood stock still, leaning on Huck until the ceremony finally ended.

I looked for him when it was over. But Mitch disappeared into the crowd; his brothers in protest went with him. I went up on my tiptoes and whispered in Huck’s ear.

“Can you get me out of here without it being a thing?”

Huck’s eyes narrowed as he looked down at me. He put a light hand on the small of my back and nodded. “That I can do. Are you sure? Some people might start looking for you when all this is over.”

I nodded. “I’m sure. It’s time for me to go. You’ll come back and look after Mac?”

Huck smiled as he found an exit for us. “You know I will. Come on, let’s get you home.”

We made it to my car. For as big as he was, Huck was stealthy and sure. I disappeared in his wake as we made our escape. I tapped my key fob and unlocked my door.

“Thanks,” I said, turning to him. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime. You know that, right? You call, I come. That’s how this works.”

I hugged him. “I know.”

“You okay? Truly?”

I nodded. “Sad, of course. But yeah.”

“He told me, you know. Brian. That night he died.”

My heart froze in my chest. I couldn’t ask him what he meant. I already knew.

“You did the right thing, Stella. You know how much I loved Brian, but he wasn’t right for you. He wasn’t ready to grow up. I’ve always wanted to say that to you, but then he died. But he told me you called it quits.”

“Huck, I just can’t.”

He smiled and pulled me into another embrace. “I’m not trying to make you hurt anymore. I’m just saying, put it down, you know?”

“You’re the best, you know that?”

“Oh hell, yes. I’m just saying, I want to see you happy. Mitch makes you happy.”

“Did he tell you?”

Huck smiled. “He didn’t have to. I know you both. You’re in love with him. He’s been in love with you forever. You’re well matched. You’re both just too stubborn to admit it. And look, I’m not trying to get into your business. I’m just saying, it’s okay. And take care of yourself. That’s all.”

I shook my head and sighed. “I think I’ve had enough drama for one day. How about one of these days we go out for a beer and talk about something other than heartbreak? Deal?”

“Deal. I hear the Lions are good this year.”

I laughed. “Good one.” We hugged one last time and I got in my car. Smiling, Huck stood tall as a mountain as I drove away.

The downtown streets were empty that morning as I drove back to the North End. Young Phil’s car was gone and the house looked quiet. My house, but not my house. Just like everything else in this town, it seemed.

I pulled into the garage and slipped off my heels as I walked inside. The house was cool and dark as the air conditioner hummed. I was going to miss this place. I threw my purse on the kitchen table and my keys on a hook by the door. My phone vibrated in the side pocket and I was almost too tired to answer it. It would be the realtor, or my parents. I had the energy for neither. It was only two o’clock, but I thought I might take a long bath and maybe a nap. I threw my suit jacket over the kitchen chair and pulled my hoop earrings out.

I got three steps down the hallway toward the bathroom when something pulled me back off my feet. The stench of body odor and hot breath near my ear. His hands were strong, greasy, and wrapped around my throat.

“You move. You scream, I cut you.”

The cold blade of a hunting knife pressed against my cheek. Breathless, I nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Now let’s get to know each other.”

He shoved me hard into the living room. I scrambled and turned and he was on me; the point of the blade flashed. He grabbed my arm and pressed the knife to my throat. He’d warned me, but I didn’t listen.

I screamed and the blade pierced my skin.