Page 74 of Finding Forever

“You’ll have to get used to leaving me on my own sooner or later.”

“I’m voting for the latter option.”

Riley smiled. “What if I make a cheesecake for dessert? Would that make you feel happier about leaving me at the cottage?”

I looked into Riley’s eyes, trying to imprint the moment in my memory. “Do you promise not to go anywhere without calling me first?”

“I promise.”

“If I’m going to be longer than two hours, I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” Riley ran his hands down the front of my shirt.

“I’m serious,” I growled, needing him to understand how much he meant to me.

“I know you are. That’s why I love you. Go to your meeting with Detective Jameson. I’ll be here when you get back.” Riley held onto my hand and pulled me toward the cottage.

I whistled to Sherlock, and the big German Shepherd sprinted toward me. “Stay with Riley.”

Sherlock’s head tilted sideways. His front paw patted the ground, and he gave an excited bark.

“It’s all right,” Riley said with a smile. “Let him go with you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. He’ll enjoy the ride in your truck.”

I looked down at my dog. “It’s your lucky day. You’re coming with me.”

Sherlock barked again, grinning as if he’d just been given a big, juicy bone.

I wished I could get as excited about the trip to Broomfield. Whoever sent the emails must be working with Chapman. And as long as they stayed in New York City, everyone would sleep easy tonight.

fifty-three

RILEY

I added a touch of yellow paint to my canvas. I’d painted other portraits, but this one was by far my best. I smiled as I stepped back and admired the scene.

A few days after Eric and I arrived, I took a photo of him and Sherlock by the lake. That photo had become the basis for this painting.

What I’d learned about Eric over the last few weeks allowed me to add layers of emotion to the canvas, celebrating the man and his dog who’d spent most of their lives protecting people.

I hoped I’d captured Eric’s creativity, his grief at losing the man he loved, and the joy that Sherlock brought to his life. Eric’s family, his friends, and his work as a writer all added another dimension to the man I loved.

The painting wasn’t as technically complicated as the landscape I’d finished, but it was still challenging.

Painting a portrait was like looking into someone’s soul. As an artist, I balanced what I saw with what I found. Sometimes what I was looking for was hidden beneath a lifetime of experiences that needed to be unraveled. And sometimes, it was right there, waiting to be discovered.

I picked up an old rag and wiped my brush. It was time for a break. I needed to stretch, grab a drink, and see if I had any of Jonathan’s cookies left.

As I walked into the living room, I glanced at the clock. If the meeting with Detective Jameson had lasted as long as Eric thought it would, he should be getting ready to leave Broomfield.

I checked my cell phone, then headed toward the kitchen. After our walk, Eric still wasn’t happy about leaving me alone. I understood why he felt that way, but he needed to realize I could look after myself.

A knock on the back door made me jump. My gaze shot to the deadbolt. No one could get inside unless I opened the door.

“It’s Special Agent Gareth McDonald from the FBI. I have a few questions for Riley Murphy. They’re about Leith Chapman.”

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