Page 42 of Taken from Her
She broke then, tears finally overwhelming her composure. Lavender moved instinctively to provide support, arms encircling Corinne while community members surrounded them both with protective presence.
Diana stood, something fierce in her expression. "This community's courage drives this investigation. Together, we will bring them home."
The acknowledgment drew appreciative nods. As the formal gathering transitioned to fundraising updates, Lavenderwatched donations exceed expectations. Silent auction bids climbed steadily while direct contributions filled the collection jars. More importantly, volunteer sign-ups for ongoing safety initiatives showed community commitment extending beyond tonight's emotion.
"Sixty-eight hundred dollars," Elle announced, totaling the evening's results. "Plus volunteer commitments for neighborhood watches, buddy systems, and communication networks."
Applause filled the café, recognition of collective contribution rather than individual achievement.
Diana moved through the crowd as people began departing, accepting gratitude with grace while sharing appropriate investigation details. Lavender watched her interact with community members who'd viewed police presence with suspicion weeks ago but now offered genuine appreciation.
"Thank you," Georgia Darricott said, approaching Diana near the door. "For seeing us as people worth protecting, not just problems to be managed."
"Thank you for trusting me with that responsibility," Diana replied.
By nine o'clock, the café had mostly emptied except for the usual lingerers and close friends helping with cleanup. Corinne hugged Lavender goodbye, her tears spent but determination intact.
"This helped," she said simply. "Knowing I'm not alone in this."
"You never were," Lavender assured her. "We're family."
As the last community members left, Diana remained, gathering her materials but making no move toward the door. The evening had shifted something between them—not just personal awareness, but recognition of how their partnership served something larger than either could achieve alone.
"Tonight was powerful," Diana said quietly, stacking chairs without being asked. "Watching you guide the community through such raw emotion."
"We guided them," Lavender corrected. "Your presence, updates, and respect for their pain all made a difference."
Diana paused, meeting Lavender's gaze across the space. The evening had proven they could integrate personal connection with public service, individual happiness with collective responsibility.
Tonight had been about more than fundraising or investigation updates. It had been about community healing, and somehow, they'd facilitated that together.
But standing in the aftermath, Lavender felt exposed in ways that had nothing to do with public speaking. For two hours, she'd fought a constant battle between her professional responsibilities and her awareness of Diana's presence. Every time Diana had spoken, Lavender had found herself studying the way her hands moved when she explained procedures. When Diana had leaned forward to examine the resource lists, Lavender had noticed how her uniform pulled across her shoulders and lost track of Georgia's question about patrol schedules.
This wasn't like her. She'd built her reputation on being fully present for her community, on reading every emotional undercurrent in a room and responding with exactly the right combination of comfort and guidance. Tonight, she'd stumbled over words she'd said hundreds of times, repeated herself when explaining safety protocols, and caught herself staring at Diana's mouth when she should have been facilitating group discussion.
The worst part was how obvious it had been. There were Georgia's knowing glances, Elle's poorly concealed smirk when Lavender had mixed up the names of two safety apps, and Sam's raised eyebrow when Lavender had asked Diana thesame clarifying question twice. Her community had watched their usually composed leader turn into someone distracted and slightly breathless, and they'd drawn their own conclusions.
Lavender moved toward the memorial corner where photos of Tara, Isabel, and Joanna watched over the space. Three women who'd trusted her to keep their community safe, who'd counted on her leadership during their most vulnerable moments. How could she maintain that trust if her personal feelings compromised her ability to think clearly?
But even as the self-doubt pressed against her ribs, another truth demanded recognition. The workshop had been more successful than any she'd facilitated alone. Diana's presence hadn't just distracted her; it had elevated the entire evening. Community members who usually remained quiet had contributed ideas. People who typically viewed police with suspicion had asked genuine questions. The combination of Lavender's emotional intelligence and Diana's practical expertise had created something neither could have achieved separately.
Her hands trembled as she straightened the memorial flowers. For fifteen years, she'd poured herself completely into community care, convinced that romantic relationships would demand energy and attention she needed to give to others. She'd chosen service over partnership, believing she had to choose between loving her community and loving one person deeply.
Diana had shattered that assumption. Their collaboration tonight had been more effective than anything Lavender had achieved alone, not despite their growing intimacy but because of it.
Standing in her café surrounded by evidence of successful collaboration, Lavender understood that she was falling in love with more than just Diana's strength or competence or the way she kissed with desperate intensity. She was falling in love withwho she became when Diana was beside her—more confident, more effective, more herself than she'd ever been alone.
The recognition was terrifying and exhilarating.
"Ready to head home?" Diana asked quietly, appearing beside her as the last community members gathered their things.
Lavender nodded as she switched off the lights and locked the door behind them. The walk to Diana's car felt charged with unspoken energy—everything they'd discovered about working together, everything they couldn't say in front of the community.
The drive to the harbor took fifteen minutes through Phoenix Ridge's quiet streets. Lavender found herself stealing glances at Diana's profile, remembering how she'd looked during the workshop—competent and caring, someone the community was learning to trust because they could see how much she genuinely wanted to protect them.
By the time they reached the marina, Lavender's pulse had settled from the evening's intensity into something deeper: anticipation mixed with the growing certainty that tonight had changed something fundamental between them.
The houseboat felt different when they arrived. Lavender unlocked the door to find Saffron and Basil waiting, their green eyes reflecting the dock lights.
