Chapter 20 Brooks #2
He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.
He signed the digital paperwork and sent it back. Effective immediately.
The flight the next day was smooth. Brooks spent it reading Vivienne’s grandmother’s journals—Emmeline had documented decades of Westerly Cove history, including details about the Aldrich family that had proven invaluable during the investigation.
One passage caught his attention:
The gift manifests differently in each generation. Josephine saw visions in water. I read impressions from objects. Cordelia heard the dead singing. And my Vivienne will see the patterns that connect past to present, death to truth.
I’ve seen who will come for Vivienne. A boy who visited my shop once, frightened and grieving. He’ll return as a man who needs saving as much as she does.
They’ll save each other, if they’re brave enough to try.
Brooks read the passage three times. Emmeline had seen him at thirteen and known he’d come back for Vivienne. Had known they’d need each other.
The old woman had been right about everything else. Maybe she was right about this too.
When the plane landed, Brooks collected his bag and headed for arrivals. He spotted Vivienne immediately—auburn hair catching the afternoon light, gray-green eyes scanning the crowd. She wore a teal dress and boots, the same outfit from the day they’d met.
When she saw him, her face changed. Not a polite smile. Real joy.
Brooks closed the distance between them, and for a moment they just looked at each other.
“Welcome home,” Vivienne said.
“Good to be home.” Brooks meant it.
They walked to her car together. She updated him on the town—the Mystic Cup was busy, Dawn was managing well, Martha Morgan had stopped by to thank Vivienne again.
Brooks talked about Austin. The conversations with Rodriguez and Marcus. The closure he’d found in saying goodbye properly.
“You’re different,” Vivienne observed as they drove north along the coast. “Lighter somehow.”
“I feel lighter. Like I’ve been holding my breath for three years and finally exhaled.” Brooks watched the ocean appear between buildings. “Coming back here feels right. Not like running away. Like coming home.”
“To Westerly Cove, or . . .?”
“To the work we’ve been doing. To whatever comes next.” He looked at her. “If you’re still willing.”
“I’m willing.” Vivienne’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Scared, but willing.”
“Me too. On both counts.”
They drove in silence for a while. The lighthouse appeared on the horizon, its beacon dark in the afternoon sun.
“Sullivan’s throwing a small welcome-back dinner tomorrow night,” Vivienne said. “Very unofficial. Just him, Dawn, Martha, and Old Jack. They wanted to celebrate you staying permanently.”
“That’s kind of them.”
“You’ve earned it. You solved a case that had been cold for twenty-five years. Found victims no one else could find. Brought down a criminal empire.” She glanced at him. “The town’s grateful, even if some people can’t admit it yet.”
“How’s Mrs. Pennington handling things?”
“About as well as you’d expect. She’s still convinced I’m a menace who destroyed a founding family out of spite.” Vivienne’s mouth quirked. “But she’s in the minority now. Most people see what the Aldriches really were.”
“And what about you? How are you handling it?”
“Better. Dawn’s been amazing, running the shop when I need rest. My abilities are recovering—I can sense spirits again without it exhausting me.” She pulled into the police station parking lot. “Sullivan wanted me to drop you here first. Said he has something for you.”
“Any idea what?”
“Nope. He was very mysterious about it.”
Brooks grabbed his bag and headed inside. Sullivan was at his desk, paperwork spread everywhere.
“Harrington. Good flight?”
“Smooth. Vivienne said you wanted to see me?”
“I did.” Sullivan stood and retrieved a box from his filing cabinet. “This came for you while you were gone.”
Inside was a detective’s badge. Westerly Cove Police Department. Brooks’s name engraved on the back along with his new badge number.
“Figured you’d want one that actually says detective instead of the temporary ID we gave you.” Sullivan’s expression was gruff but pleased. “Welcome to the team. Permanently.”
Brooks held the badge, feeling its weight. Lighter than his Austin badge had been, but it meant more.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me. You earned it. Hell, you solved more cases in five weeks than I did in five years.” Sullivan clapped him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here. Vivienne’s waiting, and you’ve got a dinner to prepare for tomorrow.”
“About that dinner—”
“Not optional. Martha’s making pot roast. Dawn’s bringing dessert. Old Jack promised not to be too cryptic. It’ll be nice. Normal. The kind of thing this town needs after everything that’s happened.”
Brooks smiled. “Then I’ll be there.”
He found Vivienne still in her car, reading something on her phone. When he tapped on the window, she looked up and smiled.
“Sullivan give you your badge?”
“He did.” Brooks showed her, the metal gleaming in the late afternoon sun.
“Looks good on you. Very official.”
“Want to grab dinner? I’ve been thinking about Mrs. Mayer’s clam chowder for the entire flight.”
“Clam chowder sounds perfect.”
They walked to the restaurant together, Vivienne’s hand brushing his occasionally as they navigated the sidewalk. Not quite holding hands. Not quite separate.
People waved as they passed. Some with warmth, others with caution. But everyone acknowledged them. The detective and the medium who’d solved Westerly Cove’s darkest secret.
Partners.
And maybe, if they were brave enough, something more.