Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Three weeks after the verdict, Lila filed her paperwork for the town council race.
Ronan drove her to the town hall on a Saturday morning, the February air cool and damp. She'd been quiet on the ride over, the manila folder in her lap, her fingers tapping against the edge.
"You don't have to wait," she said as he pulled into a parking spot. "This won't take long."
"I'll wait."
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded and got out of the car.
He watched her walk up the steps of the building where she'd worked for years, where she'd found the evidence that brought down Warren Caldwell, and where her father had filed surveys before someone decided he knew too much.
She moved differently now. Not the tense, guarded walk of someone carrying a secret.
Something looser. Something that looked almost like peace.
She disappeared through the front door.
Ronan leaned back in his seat and waited.
His phone buzzed. Caleb.
Sentencing next month. You going?
Yes.
How is she?
Running for town council.
Seriously?
Filing the paperwork right now.
Good for her. That town needs someone who gives a damn.
A pause. Then:
You okay?
Ronan considered the question. Three weeks since the verdict. Three weeks of quiet mornings and long walks and conversations that didn't have to be about evidence or trials or Warren Caldwell. Three weeks of learning what a life looked like when you weren't fighting for something.
Getting there.
That's enough. Stay in touch.
Ronan set the phone down and watched the town hall doors.
Lila emerged twenty minutes later.
She was smiling—not the careful, public smile she wore at community events, but something smaller and more private. She jogged down the steps and got in the car.
"Done."
"How does it feel?"
"Terrifying." She buckled her seatbelt. "Also good. Mostly terrifying."
"Patricia's endorsement will help."
"If I don't completely fall apart before then." She rubbed her temples. "I have to give a speech next week. At the Rotary Club. Thirty people staring at me while I explain why I should be trusted with actual responsibility."
"You testified in front of a federal jury."
"That was different. I was answering questions. Someone else controlled the conversation." She dropped her hands. "This is just me, talking, hoping I don't sound like an idiot."
"You won't sound like an idiot."
"You don't know that."
"I know you."
She looked at him sideways. "That's either sweet or terrifying. I can't decide which."
"Both, probably."
"Great. Very reassuring." But she was almost smiling. "Can we go to the cemetery? Before we go home?"
"Of course."
The cemetery sat on a quiet road past the hospital, shaded by live oaks that had been there longer than the town itself.
Ronan parked near the entrance and waited in the car while Lila walked between the headstones. She stopped at her father’s grave.
He watched her kneel and place one hand on her father’s headstone. Her lips were moving, but he couldn't hear the words. Didn't need to. Some conversations were private.
She stayed there for a long time. The February sun filtered through the oak branches, casting shifting patterns on the ground around her. A mockingbird sang somewhere nearby, cycling through its borrowed songs.
When she finally stood, she touched the headstone once more in a gesture of farewell, or maybe just connection—and walked back to the car.
Her eyes were red but dry.
"Sorry," she said, getting in. "I know that took a while."
"Don't apologize."
"I told him about the council race. About the verdict. All of it." She stared through the windshield at the cemetery. "I told my dad he was right. About everything. About Warren, about the property records, about all the things he couldn't prove before they killed him."
"Accurate."
"And that you make me feel safe. Which is not something I'm used to." She said it matter-of-factly, like she was reporting the weather. "He would have liked you. He always liked the difficult ones. Said they were more interesting."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It is one." She buckled her seatbelt. "Take me home. I'm starving, and Grace dropped off a casserole yesterday that's calling my name."
That evening, they sat on the porch and watched the sun go down.
The casserole had been some kind of beef stew, rich and warm. They'd eaten it with bread from Mae's Bakery and a bottle of wine that Sid had left on their doorstep with a note that just said "Congratulations." No signature. No explanation of what the congratulations were for. That was Sid.
Lila was curled in the chair beside him, a blanket across her lap. The temperature had dropped as the sun set, but neither of them wanted to go inside.
"I've been thinking," she said.
"About?"
"What you're going to do. Now that you're not—" She waved a hand. "Whatever you were."
"A spy. You can say it."
"It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud."
"It sounds ridiculous because it is ridiculous." He watched a pelican skim low over the water. "I spent twelve years lying for a living. That's not a normal job."
"No. But you could do something else. Mitch is always looking for people. Security consulting. Legitimate work."
"I've thought about it."
"And?"
"Caleb and I have worked out a new arrangement. I’ll be working from home in an organizational capacity. No more field work, but still involved." He turned to look at her. "How do you feel about that?”
"You’ll be home every day?"
"I guess. Maybe a meeting or two.”
She nodded slowly. "Okay."
"That's it? Just okay?"
"What do you want me to say? I’m thrilled you won’t have to leave home and go to God knows where being shot at by Lord knows who?" She pulled the blanket higher.
"That's surprisingly reasonable."
"I have my moments." She looked at him. "Besides, I need someone to help me practice my Rotary speech, and you're the only person who'll tell me when I sound stupid."
"I can do that."
"I know. That's why I'm keeping you around."
The sun touched the water, spilling gold across the inlet. They watched it sink, slow and inevitable, until the last sliver disappeared and the sky began to darken.
Lila stood and gathered the blanket around her shoulders.
"I'm going inside. It's freezing."
"I'll be there in a minute."
"Don't stay out too long."
"I won't."
She went inside. The screen door creaked shut behind her.
Ronan sat alone on the porch, watching the stars appear one by one. The owl was calling again, somewhere in the darkness. The same owl, maybe, that he'd heard all those nights before.
He didn't know what came next. For the first time in twelve years, his job was changing, just like his life. He had a woman inside making coffee, a town that was starting to feel like home, and a future that was entirely unwritten.
The screen door creaked.
"I said don't stay out too long."
"It's been three minutes."
"Four. I counted." She was standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm glow from inside. "Coffee's ready. And it's actually good this time."
"You sound surprised."
"I am surprised. It's a miracle." She held the door open. "Come inside."
He stood. Took one last look at the dark water, the stars overhead, the quiet settling over everything.
Then he walked inside and closed the door behind him.