Julie had taken a couple of weeks off, but was now back full-time, since Bryan didn’t need care during the day. We had lunch once, which was also comfortable, at least until they served the coffee.
“We never talked things out,” she said.
“No sense starting now.”
She laughed. “I knew that’s how you’d react, Luke. So I won’t make it too painful. I’ve loved you for six years, I love you now, and I’ll always love you. But I also love Bryan, and he’s my husband. That counts for a lot.”
“I think you did the right thing,” I said. “I hope you guys are happy.”
She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you.”
That was sort of a “moment” for me, and it turned out it triggered other moments. But the immediate effect was to put an end to the mind dance that I had been doing with Julie for years, whether or not she was dancing as well.
It was over, finally and officially. She was my sister-in-law, my brother’s wife, and that was going to be OK. I was never again going to let it be anything other than OK.
So I went home and had my other “moments,” possibly even large enough to be called epiphanies. It was time for me to get on with my life outside of work, maybe even settle down. Up to that point, settling down had meant a relationship that lasted longer than the NBA play-offs, but I was going after more than that. Maybe even kids. Why not?
I would even give serious thought to moving out of the area. Despite the fact that it seemed like there was a murder every twenty minutes, I liked the feel of a town the size of Brayton. There must be similar towns all over the country, maybe even nicer and more friendly, that could use a Chief of Police.
But the moments were not all upbeat. I couldn’t get the Gallagher brothers out of my mind. I thought about Steven for obvious reasons; I was responsible for his death. I couldn’t mentally erase the look on his face just before I shot him; the pain he was in was palpable. I believe I was defending myself; I just wish there had been somebody there to defend him.
My feelings towards Chris were more complicated. What he did to Bryan was horrible and inexcusable, but from the first time we talked it irritated me that I understood him. I should have been more angry; I should have wanted to rip him apart.
But I didn’t, and on some level I even identified with him. I respected his sense of justice, bizarre as some might find it. And I have to say I envied his connection to his brother. I wish he could have accomplished his goal and gotten real justice for Steven.
I still had the things that Chris had left me, that he found in Rhodes’s room. I had forgotten about them, and hadn’t turned them over to the FBI. I figured it didn’t matter, since they had dropped the ball anyway.
I came to a decision, gradually I guess, and didn’t really crystallize it in my mind until close to eight in the morning. I called Julie, and Bryan answered the phone. He sounded better than I had heard him since the rescue.
We talked briefly, and then I told him that I wasn’t going to be coming over that night, as we had discussed. I had been planning to bring in dinner, but I said that we’d have to postpone.
“Julie will be disappointed,” he said.
“She’ll get over it.”
“Last time you canceled dinner on us, all hell broke loose.”
“I remember.”
“You working tonight?” he asked.
“Sort of.”
“OK … take care of yourself, Brother. Maybe we can spend some time alone one of these days. Maybe fishing, or whatever the hell you real men do.”
I laughed. “I’ll check my real-men magazines and come up with some ideas.”
We got off the phone, and I got dressed.
The Associated Press was the first to report it.
These were the initial words across the wire:
Edward Holland, the Mayor of Brayton, New York, was killed in an explosion in his car in front of his home.
It was the latest in a series of murders that has rocked the small community, and it puts a violent end to a promising political career.
The police have not taken anyone into custody and are asking people with information to call and report it. The explosive used is believed to be the same as in the previous bombings, a very powerful munition called C-245.
Steven Gallagher had gotten his justice.
And I had crossed the line.