to Officer Gillespie’s commanding officer, Toby was intimidating to the public and no amount of coaching seemed to change that.
“Do you like desk work?” Chance asked.
“No, sir. Hate it.” Toby arched a brow. “And yes, I know that’s where I’m headed.”
Chance had an idea of how to help this young officer, but it meant embracing this remembrance ceremony—something he’d been fighting ever since the mayor brought it up to him several weeks ago. There was no getting around it—Sadie had already been hired, and as police chief, he should have a role in it, too. Being a community leader didn’t mean he always got to do what he wanted, but right now, he could see that this commemorative ceremony might be of use to more than just their own.
“Considering that you’re ex-military, I have something I want you to help us with,” Chance said.
“Yes, sir.”
“We’re working on a ceremony for Comfort Creek that is going to commemorate four young men who died in service. I want you to help us with that.”
Toby froze, then shook his head. “Do I have a choice, sir?”
“Absolutely.” Chance smiled amiably. “There is a room full of binders about feelings and appropriate reactions to them in the basement. You have two weeks with us, and I’m sure you could work your way through fifteen or twenty of those binders in that amount of time.”
Toby looked away, his jaw tensing. He was doing the mental math there—how much could he endure, and which avenue did he prefer?
“I don’t like rehashing my military days, sir,” Toby said. “The past is the past. I’m a civilian now.”
Toby was no civilian in his head, or in his demeanor. He was still acting like the soldier.
“Understood.” Chance shrugged. “I’ll get an officer to show you down to the basement, then. You can get started today. I’ve got your first binder waiting on the table there. You can’t miss it. There are some workbooks that go along with it, and we’ll need full written responses that will be sent for psych evaluation—”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help out with your commemorative ceremony, sir,” Toby said quickly. “I just said that I didn’t want to dig into my own military service, if it’s all the same.”
Chance paused, watching conflicting emotions flit across Toby Gillespie’s face. He was a good cop—most of the officers who ended up here were. He was the cop you wanted to cover you going into dangerous territory. He was a veritable tank who just needed to figure out how to disarm himself from time to time.
“I can tell you what it would entail,” Chance said. “I need you to speak with the family members of the fallen men and get some personal information about them—pictures, military ranks and any medals they might have been awarded...that sort of thing. Bring that information back to me, and we’ll talk.”
Toby frowned. “That’s not normally my strength—grieving families and all that.”
No one liked facing grief, especially their own. Chance knew that better than anyone.
“It would be good practice with letting down your guard a little bit,” Chance said. “But I’m not sending you in without some preparation. One of the men who died was my brother. You can practice with me.”
Toby cleared his throat and looked down. “I’m used to interviewing suspects, sir, so talking with them isn’t an issue. It’s just that I don’t tend to...come across right. Normally those kinds of assignments are saved for officers with a softer touch.”
“That’s what we’re working on here,” Chance said frankly. “The softer touch.”
“So, if I did this—”
“No binders.” This was an option he gave nearly all his trainees, and 95% of them chose to avoid the binders. There was something about county-approved sensitivity training that rubbed just about every officer the wrong way.
A smile flickered at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “Fine. I’ll do the interviews with the families. But if they complain about me—”
Chance had hoped that he’d agree, and not only because it would be of service to the community right now. Toby Gillespie was behaving like a military man, and it wasn’t working with the police force. There was a certain amount of discipline and respect for command authority that the two careers had in common, but Officer Gillespie was suffering from something that had happened in the military—at least that was Chance’s best guess—and it was bleeding into his work on the force.
“You’ll start with me, remember? It’ll be fine. In the meantime, you’ll be assigned a cruiser and you can start patrol.”
Chance didn’t want to grieve for his brother with an audience, but sometimes helping a good officer get over his own issues meant a certain amount of vulnerability.
Lord, I hate this, he admitted silently. I asked You to help me heal, and now everything seems to be about Noah all over again.
He didn’t want to face this, but it didn’t look like he’d have a choice. He’d prayed that God would help him to work through his own grief, and sometimes when God answered a prayer, He did it with all the subtlety of a pile of bricks.
* * *
Sadie dropped her bag onto the seat of a kitchen chair and ran a hand through her hair. The meeting with the mayor had been more exhausting than she’d anticipated. There had been a very small and naive part of her that had been hoping that seeing Chance again would spark the old friendship they used to share, before those lines had blurred. Back when their relationship had been simple and sweet, she’d looked forward to seeing him, chatting with him, sharing jokes. Five years ago, Chance had been fun.
Marrying into a family that you honestly liked was a smart move, and that had been part of what had kept her moving toward the wedding. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan were kind and compassionate people—but they also knew how to stay out of a young couple’s relationship. Chance had been a good friend, too, and she had pleasant memories of sitting in his cruiser on a summer day, her bare feet up on the dashboard as she chipped away at that serious shell of his.
Feet down, he’d say.
Make me, Officer. She’d shoot him a teasing smile, and he’d crack a smile at that point—possibly imagining what it would take to get her to do as she was told. Personally, she thought he enjoyed the challenge.
She’d thought that flirting was safe—this was Chance, after all—but maybe she’d been naive about that, too. Because the day before the wedding, Chance had swung by her place to drop off some place cards that Nana needed for the reception. While talking on the porch, everything had changed...melted away into a foggy moment as their eyes met and the world faded away around them. He’d pushed a piece of hair away from her face, and as he did so, his eyes had locked on her lips, and she’d known that he was thinking about kissing her. She was an engaged woman, after all—she knew what that looked like. And he’d confessed his feelings.
I should have asked you out first, because watching you fall in love with my brother has been agony. I’m not saying I’m better for you than he is, I’m just— Never mind.
You
