Page 19 of Her Final Hours
“So, I don’t need to be here?”
“Do you think you don’t need to be here?”
He groaned and ran a hand over his head.
She leaned forward. “There, see. I’m no longer mirroring the way you’re sitting. How about we start from the beginning? Tell me about you. Tell me about Lena. What happened? How have you been since? What kind of challenges are you facing with your kids? And if all that is too painful to talk about, tell me about what you’re working on. Or we can sit in silence. I’m here to listen and, if needed, use words to offer guidance and support.”
As Noah contemplated her words, a glimmer of doubt resurfaced within him. He wondered if this woman could truly comprehend the depth of his pain and if she held the answers he sought. But as he observed her calm and composed demeanor, a newfound sense of trust began to take root.
“Ready?” she asked.
He nodded.
Later,Noah stepped out of his Bronco and glanced around the large parking lot in front of the Adirondack Sheriff’s Office. It was practically full, barring a few patrol vehicles that had left tire marks on their way out. As the office was attached to the jail, there was always a steady flow of inmates being booked in and others being released. Many who had gotten out of the drunk tank were easily spotted — bleary-eyed, waiting on a ride, trying to bum a cigarette from anyone who walked by.
“You don’t have a ciggy, do you?”
“Don’t smoke. Sorry,” he replied. He adjusted his coat and pulled up his collar to shield himself from the cold wind that had swept through the rural community.
Pushing wide the heavy wooden doors of the office, Noah entered a bustling atmosphere. The main room hummed with activity, filled with desks and officers overbooked with paperwork and engrossed in their duties. Beyond plexiglass and a worn counter sat Maisie, the friendly face that greeted visitors and provided information. She glanced up from her paperwork, her eyes brightening as she recognized Noah.
“McKenzie in?” Noah said, leaning on the counter.
“Out back. Been a while since you’ve been here; you won’t recognize the place,” she said, returning a smile, her voice carrying a hint of excitement. Maisie pressed a button beneath the desk. The faint buzzing sound signaled that he was now granted access. He thanked her and made his way toward the rear of the office, passing officers who exchanged nods.
The hallway leading back was lined with faded photographs from newspapers and framed commendations, a testament to the office’s history of solving cases. It was typical of small-town policing, where appearances were everything. High Peaks had his father to thank for that. He was all about reminding hisofficers of their progress and the stamp his family had put on the history books.
As he continued on, Noah noticed renovations. They’d expanded the back, adding a newly created room off to his right. A glass wall revealed a glimpse of what lay inside — the modern space was adorned with sleek flat-screen TVs mounted on the walls.
As he entered the room, Callie Thorne, a young and sharp-witted deputy, took note of him, offering a smile. She had always been one to question and challenge theories, keeping investigations grounded in reality.
Detective Angus McKenzie was engrossed in giving some spiel to the deputies. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of camaraderie in the air. Noah stood at the back, taking it all in, impressed by the digital hub for investigation.
“Well, you know what to do; get out there and make it happen.”
Chairs screeched, deputies rose and passed him, and chatter drifted.
McKenzie’s eyes lit up with a mix of enthusiasm and determination as he caught sight of Noah.
“What do you think?” McKenzie exclaimed, his voice full of pride as if introducing his first child.
Noah raised a finger. “You championed the creation of this room?”
“Of course,” he shot back, his Scottish accent as thick as ever.
Callie shook her head, muttering something behind McKenzie so he couldn’t hear. Something along the lines of he had very little to do with it. “I envisioned this place, bringing the slow world of High Peaks into the future with a place for us to review cases, study suspect profiles, and piece together the puzzle that will eventually land me in the hall of fame.”
“You’ll be in a wheelchair before then,” Callie commented, passing him and greeting Noah with a hug.
“Aye, lass, you’ll be in hot water if you keep up with those cheeky comments.”
“Ignore him. He’s been ranting about this place for the past two weeks. It was the brainchild of Sheriff Rivera.”
“My vision. She implemented it,” McKenzie was quick to say. “Let’s be clear.”
“Oh please, you wanted a corkboard,” she said.
“Aye, it worked for us in the Big Apple.”
