Page 41 of Taken from Her
More community members arrived as the afternoon progressed. Samantha Moscroft brought homemade cookies, their sweet aroma mixing with coffee and flowers. Racquel Norster and Jordan Yatz coordinated volunteer schedules. Elle Kearsley managed the growing collection of silent auction items: art pieces, restaurant gift certificates, and weekend getaways donated by businesses.
"What’s the expected turnout?" Elle asked, arranging bid sheets beside donated items.
"Sixty, maybe seventy people," Lavender replied. "The whole community's hurting. Tonight's about processing that together."
By five-thirty, the transformation was complete. Candlelight replaced harsh fluorescents, creating a reverent atmosphere that honored grief while fostering hope. The community board displayed photos not just of the missing women but of search efforts, volunteer coordination, and mutual support that had emerged from the crisis.
Her phone buzzed. Diana's name on the screen made her pulse quicken despite the professional tone:Confirmed for 6:00 arrival. Any updates on the expected attendance?
She typed back:Larger crowd than I thought. The community needs this.
The response came quickly:Understood. See you soon.
The formal words couldn't mask what lay beneath: shared memory of yesterday's discovery, both evidential and personal. Tonight would test their ability to navigate public space while carrying a private connection.
"She's coming?" Georgia asked, noting Lavender's expression as she read the message.
"Chief Marten will provide investigation updates," Lavender said carefully.
"Of course she will." Georgia smiled. "And you'll provide community leadership while she provides official support. Quite the partnership you've developed."
The first attendees began arriving, familiar faces carrying unfamiliar weight, community members seeking comfort and action in equal measure. Tonight would demand everything: grief processing, hope maintenance, practical planning, and emotional support for people whose lives had been shattered by inexplicable loss.
Lavender straightened her shoulders, checked the memorial displays one final time, and prepared to hold space for whatever the evening brought. Outside, Phoenix Ridge settled into dusk while inside, candles flickered against the darkness that had touched them all.
In twenty minutes, Diana would walk through that purple door, and Lavender would have to facilitate meaningful community healing while her heart raced.
But tonight wasn't about personal feelings. Tonight was about service and the fierce love that held communities together when everything else threatened to fall apart.
By six-thirty, the café hummed with subdued energy, and conversations happened in clusters as women compared changed routines, discussing safer walking routes.
The purple door opened. Diana stepped inside, and when her gaze found Lavender's across the space, something electric passed between them.
"Evening, everyone," Diana said. "Thank you for including me tonight."
Lavender approached with coffee, using a handmade mug. The brief touch of their hands sent warmth through both women.
"Four weeks," Lavender began, settling into facilitation mode. "Four weeks since Tara, Isabel, and Joanna were taken from us. Tonight is about action, not just grief."
Diana took a seat within the circle. "Yesterday, we found the staging area where they were held. It had physical evidence and personal items—proof that connects all three cases."
Hope replaced despair on faces that had carried too much sorrow.
"We're closer than we've been," Diana continued, her voice carrying genuine care alongside professional certainty. "Community cooperation has been essential."
"Corinne has something she'd like to share," Lavender said gently.
The room fell silent as Corinne stood, moving toward the memorial corner where Joanna's photo watched over the gathering. Candlelight flickered across her face, highlighting both exhaustion and fierce determination.
"A month ago, my world shattered," Corinne began, her voice steady despite tears threatening. "Joanna kissed me goodbye and never came home. I still set two coffee cups out every morning."
Murmurs of understanding rippled through the café. Diana's professional composure softened, revealing personal investment in the pain before her.
"But I'm not here to make you feel sorry for me," Corinne continued, strength building in her voice. "I'm here because Joanna would want me to fight. She'd want all of us to fight. These women didn't just disappear. They were stolen from us by someone who thought our love, our community, our very existence was something to be destroyed."
Her words galvanized the room, transforming grief into determination.
"We won't be destroyed," Corinne said, looking around the circle. "We won't hide. We won't let fear scatter us. We'll find them, and we'll make sure this never happens again."
