The aroma of freshly brewed coffee seemed to fill the void left by the children's departure.
We sat, mugs cradled in our hands, exchanging idle chatter about nothing and everything when the shrill ring of my phone sliced through the calm.
"That didn't last long," I quipped, thumbing the answer button.
"Eva Rae Thomas?" The voice on the other end was tinged with an urgency that put me on alert. “Agent Eva Rae Thomas?”
"Speaking."
"Hi, Eva Rae… It's Diane Matthews. I know your mother."
Recognition sparked immediately. Diane Matthews was a good friend of my mother’s and had been for all the time I could remember. I could almost see her—poise, elegance, always a kind word. I had known her since I was a child but hadn’t seen her in many years.
"Of course, Diane. How can I help you?"
Her breath hitched over the line, words rushing out like floodwaters breaching a dam.
"Something terrible has happened."
I set my coffee down, my grip tightening on the phone as she spoke. The lightness of the morning began to dissipate, shadowed by Diane's despair. I remembered my mother telling me what happened to Angela, her daughter, who died in a tragic accident. What could possibly be happening now?
"Tell me what's going on, Diane."
"Angela's husband, Will… they've arrested him for murder. They think he killed Angela, but he didn't do it, Eva Rae. He couldn't have. It’s all such a terrible mess."
Murder. The word hung heavy, a dark cloud threatening a storm. I leaned forward, elbows on the table, every fiber of my being attuned to her plea.
"Please, Eva Rae. You're the only one I can turn to. I need your help."
I listened while my mind raced, piecing together the fragments of a picture I hadn't yet seen. Her voice quavered, each word weighted with fear and the raw edge of desperation.
The gravity of the situation settled over me like an unwelcome cloak, the familiar tug of duty pulling at my conscience. This was more than a cry for help; it was a call to arms.
“Could you please come to St. Augustine?” she asked.
St. Augustine? The words snagged in my mind; it was far from home, from the kids who needed me.
"Diane, I… this isn't a good time. My family, the kids, they're just settling into their routines."
"Please, Eva Rae, I wouldn't ask if it weren't urgent." Her voice was a tightrope, quivering with tension.
I glanced at Matt, his brow furrowed, eyes locked on mine. The silent conversation we shared spoke volumes of concern and understanding—a mother's plea, a family's need. My chest tightened; the balance between duty and devotion was never steady.
"Can you tell me more about what happened?" I hedged, buying time, my heart thrumming against my ribcage.
"Will is innocent, but no one will listen. You have that intuition, Eva Rae, you have experience, you can see what others don't."
The call to justice was a siren song, seductive and demanding. But the thought of leaving, the image of Angel's face, Alex's soccer games missed—each a thread pulling taut.
"Money isn't an issue," Diane pressed, sensing my hesitation. "We'll compensate you generously for your time away from your family."
"Generously…," I echoed, the word foreign. We had been having money trouble lately. Heck, we always did with all these children. The house was a money pit on top of it all. It would help us a lot.
"Whatever it takes, Eva Rae. I'm begging you."
I swallowed hard, the weight of her desperation anchoring me to the spot.
"Give me a moment, Diane."
