The shards of shattered glass have been cleaned up and the Swat team departed, but there are still bullet holes in our windows and the galling injustice that the sniper escaped.
While we were laying a trap for our unknown stalker he laid a trap for us.
We expected Jim Barnes to be at the cliffs where Sarah was killed, but he surprised us on our home turf, invading our safe space.
This farm where we felt safe and snug was now exposed and vulnerable. Yes, we had units patrolling the grounds, but we were no longer unassailable and sheltered from harm.
There was always the sense of being watched, our movements tracked by both friend and foe. And worst of all, we were back where we started―Jim and Robyn had alibis.
We lost our suspects but still remained a target. It was the worst outcome imaginable, other than being killed, which we almost were.
And now we're hiding in fear, our anonymous sniper at large.
"Let's go over the facts again," I encouraged Clare.
She winced in pain. "Do we have to, Cam? I have a splitting headache."
I looked at her furrowed brow and dull-eyed stare. "No, We've been through a lot today―you need sleep. Take Maggie with you and call it a night."
"What are you going to do―sleep as well?"
"I'll make a rum hot chocolate and relax before the fire. If I fall asleep on the couch, that'll be a bonus. Just wake me when you get up."
"I will," she whispered and bent down and kissed me. "Don't stay up too late and end up exhausted."
But when she was upstairs and safely tucked in, I sat sipping the hot toddy and staring into the flames, seeking to solve the riddle.
It was a self-soothing ritual that usually worked, but not tonight. My mind was wracked with questions and doubts.
Could there be a third person―an accomplice we hadn't identified―perhaps, Bob Henderson, Jim Barnes' partner?
I got out my laptop and went online and checked the duty roster. Henderson was in the detachment when the shooting happened.
It seemed everywhere we turned, there was a dead end.
It was heart-rending. I finally fell asleep sometime after 1 am and spent the night being consoled in the arms of Sarah, my dead partner, only to awake in the morning in Clare's. It was so confusing and unnerving.
I din't tell Clare, of course―how could I? You're not responsible for your dreams and telling her would just depress her. She can't compete with the dead, nor should she.
I knew I loved Clare and intended to marry her, but Sarah had built a stronghold in my soul and it would seem cruel to exorcise her.
Over time, Clare will tend to dominate my thoughts and Sarah will retreat into the background. I don't know how I know this―maybe it's a convenient lie I tell myself, or maybe it's Sarah comforting me.
I'm learning how to let go of everything but Clare's hand and the sense of her fist balled up in mine is already so familiar it seems other-worldly.
And maybe that's the supreme irony of all―Clare was never an addition to my life but has been in me from the beginning.
