Final Call by Terri Reid

deep
breath and tried to smile, but failed.
    “Sorry, kid, I can’t fix broken
hearts.”
    Grabbing several more tissues, she
broke out in a new bout of tears.
    The refrigerator door opened and several
bars of dark chocolate floated in her direction. “Chocolate?” Mike suggested.
    She shook her head.
    “Not even chocolate,” he sighed. “You
really do have it bad.”
    She wiped the tears away with impatient
movements. “I don’t have it bad,” she protested. “He was mean. He was rude. And
he was thoughtless. And I don’t deserve to be treated that way.”
    Mike nodded. “I agree. And he just got
the shock of his life. All of his greatest fears stood before him. He didn’t
save his wife – she died.”
    Mary froze in the midst of her tirade
and sighed.
    “And he was an idiot, but men tend to
do idiotic things when they are confused and feeling guilty.”
    “Why in the world would he feel
guilty?”
    “Well, one
– because he didn’t save his wife. Two – because he didn’t solve the case
and find out she was murdered. And three,” his voice softened and he moved
closer to Mary. “He realized that he doesn’t love his wife as much as he loves
you. That’s a hell of a lot of guilt.”
    “But if he loves me so much, why did he
hurt me so badly?”
    “Because
he’s a stupid man.”
    She grabbed two more tissues, blew her
nose vigorously and took a deep shuddering breath. “You’re right,” she agreed.
“He’s stupid and I’m...I’m...I’m still in love with the jerk.”
    Mike grinned. “You show him, tiger.”
    Mary couldn’t help it; she smiled.
“Shut up and pass me the chocolate.”

Chapter Seventeen

 
    Bradley floored the accelerator pedal
on the cruiser and nearly drove into a snow bank. He took a deep breath and
tried to get a grip on his emotions. Jeannine
is dead. He waited for the pain, for the sharp clenching in his gut. But
all he felt was sorrow and guilt.
    The radio crackled. “Chief, this is
Dorothy, come in, Chief Alden.”
    He pressed the button of the
walkie-talkie and was connected to Dorothy, his administrative assistant.
“Dorothy, it’s Bradley,” he said. “What’s up?”
    He listened as Dorothy precisely listed
the calls they’d received, the responses to the calls and the status of every
officer on duty.
    “Great job, Dorothy,” he replied. “It
sounds like things are slowing down a bit.”
    “Yes, I think most folks are home and
planning on staying put,” she said.
    “Okay, I’m heading to my place to get
some work done,” he said. “If you need me, don’t hesitate to call.”
    He suddenly realized that Dorothy had
been manning the phones all day and, because of the roads, might be stuck in
the office all night. He really didn’t want to drive her home, but he sure
didn’t want her to take her two-wheel drive car to her house.
    “Dorothy, do you have a ride home?”
    “I’m not going to even try to make it
down our country road,” she said. “The plow drivers tell me it’s really bad out
there. So, I’ve got a room at the Hampton. I’ll walk over in a few minutes.”
    “Put it on the department’s account,”
Bradley said. “And add a nice dinner for yourself too. You would have made it
home safely if you hadn’t stayed and helped out.”
    “Thanks, Chief,” she said. “That’s very
nice of you.”
    “Just want you to know that I
appreciate the work you do for the department.”
    “You’re a nice man, Chief,” she said.
    “Thanks,” he replied shortly. “Call me
if anything comes up.”
    Pressing the garage door opener, he put
the cruiser in four-wheel drive low and barreled through the snow into the
secure confines of his garage. The door closed behind him, leaving him feeling
separated from the rest of the world. He reached in his back pocket and pulled
out his wallet. Flipping past the credit cards and cash, he found what he was
looking for. The photo was worn at the edges and slightly creased in the
middle. It showed