drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Fair question. I met her at Canyon Lodge.” She looked at him, but when he didn’t react, she clarified. “It’s a drug rehab center.”
“You’re an addict, too?”
“Noooo.” She lifted an eyebrow at his assumption. “My mom was. I met Kimmie, wow, ten years ago, on visits to Mom. When they both got out, we stayed in touch.”
And yet she hadn’t turned to her mom when she’d needed a place to stay. “How’s your mom doing?” he asked.
She looked away. “She didn’t make it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” She slid down off the couch to sit beside the dog again, petting him in long, gentle strokes.
“Where’s Kimmie now? Is she in Phoenix?”
Erica hesitated.
“Look, we’ve been out of touch for years. But if she’s sober now...” He saw Erica’s expression change. “Is she sober now?”
Erica looked down at the dog, into the fire, anywhere but at him.
Hope leaked out of him like air from a deflating tire. “She’s not.”
Finally, she blew out a breath and met his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“What do you mean? She’s straight or she’s not.”
Erica’s face went tense, and he realized he’d spoken harshly. Not the way to gain trust and information. “Sorry. Let’s start over. Why did she send you to Holly Creek Farm?”
Simple enough question, he’d thought. Apparently not.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
He ground his teeth to maintain patience. His superiors had been right; he was too much on the edge to be working the streets right now. For a fleeting, fearful moment, he wondered if he could ever do it again.
But interviewing someone about your own kin was different, obviously, than asking questions about a stranger.
“Kimmie isn’t...well,” she said finally.
Jason jerked to attention at her tone. “What’s wrong?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but his cell phone buzzed. Wretched thing. And as a cop, even one on leave, he had to take it.
“It’s late for a phone call.” Then she waved a hand, looking embarrassed. “Not my business. Sorry.”
A feeling of foreboding came over Jason as he looked at the unfamiliar number. “Area code 602. Phoenix, isn’t it?”
She gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “Yes.”
He clicked to answer. “Jason Stephanidis.”
“Mr. Stephanidis.” The voice on the other end was male, and there was background noise Jason couldn’t identify. “Are you the brother of Kimberly Stephanidis?”
Jason closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“Okay. This is Officer John Jiminez. Phoenix PD. You’re a cop, too?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. My information’s accurate. Do you know... Have you seen your sister recently?”
“No.”
Silence. Then: “Look, I’m sorry to inform you that she’s passed away. I’ve been assigned to locate her next of kin.”
A chasm opened in his chest. “Drugs?”
“The coroner listed the cause of death as an overdose. But it also looks like she had advanced lung cancer.”
Jason squeezed his eyes closed, tighter, as if that could block out the words he was hearing. What he wanted to do was to shout back: No. No. No.
* * *
Erica sat on the couch, her arms wrapped around herself. Trying to hold herself together.
Kimmie was gone.
The twins were motherless.
Grief warred with worry and fear, and she jumped up and paced the room.
After Jason had barked out the news, said that a lawyer would call back tomorrow with more information, he’d banged out of the house.
What had happened? Had Kimmie gone peacefully, with good care, or died alone and in pain? Or, given the mention of overdose, had she taken the low road one last time?
Erica sank her head into her hands and offered up wordless prayers. Finally, a little peace came to her as the truth she believed with all her heart sank in: Kimmie had gone home to a forgiving God, happy, all pain gone.
She paced over to the window and looked out. The snow had stopped, and as she watched, the moon came out from under a cloud, sending a cold, silvery light over the rolling farmland.
Off to the side, Jason shoveled a walkway, fast, furious, robotic.
Wanting air herself, wanting to see that moon better and remind herself that God had a plan, Erica found a heavy jacket in the hall closet and slipped outside.
Sharp cold took her breath away. A wide creek ran alongside the house, a little stone bridge arching over it. Snow blanketed hills and trees and barns.
And the moonlight! It reflected off snow and water, rendering the scene almost as bright as daytime, bright enough that a wooden fence and a line of tall pines cast shadows on the snow.
The only sound was the steady chink-chink-chink of Jason’s shovel.
The newness, the majesty, the fearfulness of the scene made her tremble. God’s creation, beautiful and dangerous. A Sunday school verse flashed through her mind: “In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.”
The shovel stopped. Heavy boot steps came toward her.
“You should have contacted me!” Jason’s voice was loud, angry. “How long were you with her? Didn’t you think her family might want to know?”
His accusatory tone stung. “She didn’t want me to contact you!”
“You listened to an addict?”
“She said you told her you were through helping her.”
“I didn’t know she had cancer!” He sank down on the front step and let his head fall into his hands. “I would have helped.” The last word came out choked.
Erica’s desire to fight left her. He was Kimmie’s brother, and he was hurting.
She sat down beside him. “She wasn’t
