Chapter Nineteen The Aftermath
Ephram
By the time the last float cleared the route, the cold had settled into everything like it owned it. My feet and my hands felt frozen despite thermal socks and gloves.
I stood at my intersection longer than necessary because it was my job to be the last barrier between “festive chaos” and “someone gets hit by a minivan.
" I watched a man shepherd two toddlers across the street like he was herding puppies. A teenager ran back to retrieve a dropped scarf and nearly slipped on a patch of ice, catching herself with a dramatic arm windmill that made her friends laugh. Someone’s dog tried to follow a marching band member, convinced it had found its people.
It was a good turnout, showing pride and participation of the members of the small town.
Across the street, the Bennets were still gathered around the truck.
The antique pickup looked like it had always belonged in the center of Maple Ridge’s Christmas parade, which was ridiculous, considering it had spent most of its recent life collecting dust in a garage.
I watched Lydia as she chatted with her sisters and parents.
Her smile came out without hesitation. Her cheeks were rosy with the cold.
Lydia listened as Kitty spoke with her whole body, hands moving, head tilting, an opinion spilling out in every direction.
Lydia laughed, and the sound carried, bright and unguarded.
Helen and William were near the tailgate, folding the blanket they had used on the bench in the truck bed.
Helen waved at someone I didn’t recognize and laughed as the person waved back.
William shut the tailgate, expression pleased in the restrained way of a man who approved of something but did not feel the need to announce it.
When I turned away, it felt like leaving something unfinished behind me. I spent the next hour clearing away the barricades that had helped line the parade route, opening streets to traffic once more.
Back at the station, the warmth hit like a slow shock. The building always smelled faintly of old coffee and paper, with an undertone of disinfectant that never quite left. The lobby was quiet, Gail absent from her desk for a moment.
I hung up my coat, set my hat on my desk, and started logging the parade coverage notes.
It had been routine with no real incidents except for a couple of minor traffic complaints.
A kid temporarily separated from his parents and reunited within five minutes, which somehow still resulted in a full report.
I had just finished typing when my boss appeared in the doorway of his office. “North, I need to talk with you.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied, standing automatically.
I followed him into his office, and only when he gestured did I take a seat. I watched as he sat down, stirring his coffee.
“Good turnout today,” he remarked.
“It was,” I agreed. “No major issues.”
He nodded once. “I saw you out there.”
“I was assigned to traffic control,” I stated, wondering what he was getting at by stating the obvious.
“I know,” he replied, voice mild. “I also saw who you were watching.”
I kept my expression neutral. My pulse did not change, but my attention sharpened.
He continued in an even tone. “Sergeant, I’m not accusing you of anything, but I am reminding you that perception matters. Especially for someone in your position.”
I nodded once, slow. “I understand that. I’m curious as to what this is about.”
He looked at me over the top of his glasses, the warning becoming more explicit. “Ms. Bennet is connected to an open investigation. While that doesn’t make her a suspect and it doesn’t mean she’s done anything wrong, you need to be careful about proximity. About how things look.”
I let out a controlled breath. “I haven’t discussed the case with her outside of official context.”
“And I believe you,” he replied immediately, which surprised me more than it should have.
“This isn’t about mistrust. It’s about optics.
If you’re seen getting too close to someone tied to an investigation, people talk.
People question motives and they question judgment, which would mean that I would need to take you off the case. Do I make myself clear?”
“I understand,” I said again.
“Good, because you’ve worked hard to build credibility here. You’re newly promoted." His voice stayed calm, but the message was sharp. “Don’t hand anyone a reason to doubt you.”
“I won’t,” I answered.
He watched me for a moment longer as if gauging whether I truly meant it. I did. I also hated that it was necessary.
He softened slightly, the warning delivered. He lifted a hand as if drawing a line in the air. “You can still do your job. You are still investigating. You can still treat her with respect. Just keep your boundaries clear, especially in public.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded once. Then, as if flipping a switch, his expression changed. “On a different note, those animal shelter videos.”
I blinked at the change of subject. “The videos, sir?”
“They’re doing well,” he replied. “Real well.”
I waited, unsure where this was going.
“The shelter director called,” he continued. “Said inquiries are up. Volunteers are getting new sign-ups. People are sharing the clips. Apparently the public likes seeing an officer getting run over by dogs and holding cats.”
Heat climbed briefly into my face. “I wasn’t exactly getting run over.”
He smiled faintly. “You looked like you were.”
I swallowed the instinct to defend myself and instead said, “I’m glad the videos went over well.”
“I’m thinking of having the police do more of the social media stuff. Since you’re the local expert, I will be drawing on your experience in the future,” he told me.
The praise landed awkwardly. I wasn’t about to tell him Lydia had helped me, not when he had just warned me to keep things professional.
“Thank you, sir,” I managed.
He studied me with the faintest hint of amusement. “You don’t have to look so uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, and immediately knew it sounded like a lie.
He let out a quiet chuckle. “Right. Well. Consider this a reminder that competence isn’t only paperwork and procedures. Sometimes it’s letting the town see you as a person.”
I held still, absorbing that. The same visibility he had warned me about was being framed as an asset. Both could be true. That was the problem.
He shifted again, preparing to return to his office. “Just don’t let the personal side get you sloppy. You know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
He nodded once, then turned away. “Get your reports in by the end of shift. We’ll talk about the Hale Lodge Holiday Gala coverage later.”
Dismissed, I went back to my desk. I sat down slowly, taking a sip of my coffee before realizing it was cold.
Warning and commendation, delivered in the same breath. Distance and approval, balanced carefully against each other.
I stared at the open report screen and thought, unwillingly, of Lydia again. Mud on her coat. Laughing with joy and rosy cheeks. Standing in the center of her family in town like she had every right to be there.
As much as I wanted to get to know her better, I knew there was a line that had to be observed as a police officer when it came to relationships and ongoing investigations.
While I didn’t feel like I had broken that line, my boss felt I was close to doing so.
He was right to remind me of my duties. I would not put Lydia in a position where her integrity could be questioned because of me.
I would not blur lines that had been drawn for a reason.
Caring didn’t require proximity. It required attention, patience, and the discipline to wait.
For the first time in a long time, I felt somewhat conflicted. I wanted to explore the opportunity of a relationship with Lydia while also not wanting to be removed from the Wickham file.
The best way I could do both was to find a way to prove if Wickham was a thief. I logged back into the system, reopened the schedule, and pulled up the upcoming assignments I had skimmed earlier but not actually read.
The Hale Gala sat there like a fixed point.
I clicked into the file and let it load fully this time, scrolling slowly instead of scanning.
I looked at the date, the times various events were taking place, coordination notes between the department and the lodge’s private security team.
Everything looked orderly, layered, and redundant in the way large events needed to be to avoid chaos.
Full duty assignment. My name was attached to oversight, not just presence.
I read that line twice, not because it surprised me, but because it mattered. It meant long hours. It meant visibility. It meant responsibility that went beyond crowd control and crossed into decision-making if something went wrong.
It also meant I could set up where the officers under my direction were, concentrating their attention in certain areas.
I scrolled again.
There was a full list of caterers, decor crews, and any vendors brought in for the event. Staff lists that expanded and contracted as the gala timeline unfolded. Names blurred together at first, until one didn’t.
Gavin Wickham.
The name sat there without emphasis. Just another entry in a list that assumed cooperation and good faith.
He was listed as event coordination support and vendor liaison.
It was limited access, but enough to move through transitional spaces where money, equipment, and attention passed hands quickly.
I felt the internal shift settle into place, the one that came when a puzzle piece finally aligned.
Everything about Wickham’s presence was technically appropriate. That was the problem. He understood systems well enough to hide inside them.
I leaned back slightly and read the gala file again, this time not as an officer following procedure, but pretending to be a thief cataloging opportunity.
Where would the crowd be thickest? When would attention drift toward speeches and music?
Which access points would be monitored closely and which would rely on assumption rather than verification, thus giving a blind spot for a thief to slip something through?
Large events created blind spots. They also could create witnesses. This would be a chance to outmaneuver Wickham, but there was a problem.
He already knew I was investigating him.
I would have to ensure that he didn’t see me, while still organizing the police support to the security team.
This would create a lot of difficulty. I also was restrained by the number of police I was in charge of.
There were only three other officers going to be at the event.
The Maple Ridge police department wasn’t large and didn’t have a high number of people to lend to large events.
Not only that, but I needed to keep in mind that while I suspected Wickham and wanted to concentrate most of my attention on him, I had to remember to keep security in case someone else became problematic at the gala.
I shot off a quick email to the head of security, asking for a layout of the lodge, how many people would be on his team, what support he was looking for and options on how we could liaise on the project.
A text came into my phone and I had a look. It was the plumber, stating he had an opening and could look at the damaged pipes today if I were available. I texted back that I would make time, setting up the appointment for directly after my shift.
In the locker room, I changed methodically. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flattening everything into the same dull tone. As I buttoned my coat, Lydia’s face surfaced in my mind without warning.
Not her smile from the parade. The one from the shelter when she was perfectly imperfect with mud on her cheek, laughing because she had lost control and didn’t regret it.
I set the thought aside deliberately.
I shut down the computer and picked up my keys, the station quiet behind me now. Outside, my breath fogged briefly as I paused on the steps, looking down the street toward the direction of the inn without fully intending to.