“I’m so glad it’s finally over,” she said quietly. “Or nearly.”
“As soon as Victoria is caught, it will be completely over,” Ace assured her.
While they stared at the memorial for a few minutes, the quiet around them started filling with people’s chatter.
A small team of volunteers was arranging the chairs in their final positions, the rows straightened by people who understood that these details mattered on a day like this. A sound system had been set up to one side with a single microphone on a stand, and a young man in his twenties was running a quiet sound check that produced brief, tinny feedback before settling into the steady hum of something working correctly.
Harvey was already positioned near the side of the platform with his equipment set up, a small monitor angled toward him showing Judy’s hospital room feed.
Lucy was already at the memorial site with Dean, the two of them standing near the front row of chairs, talking in low voices. Dean looked up when Willa approached and crossed to her immediately. The hug he wrapped her in was the hug of a man who had loved his son and had spent ten years loving his son’s family in his son’s absence. Willa held on for a moment longer than usual because today of all days, she needed it, and he needed it too.
“He’d be proud of today,” Dean said quietly, pulling back to look at her.
“I know he would,” Willa replied. “How are you holding up?”
“Better than I expected,” Dean admitted honestly. “Having the truth helps. It helps a lot.” He glanced at the stone. “Having Gilbert’s name up there helps too.”
Margo appeared at Willa’s elbow, slightly flushed from the morning’s work and carrying a clipboard that appeared to contain a detailed operational plan for the post-ceremony refreshments.
“The sandwiches are covered,” Margo confirmed, as though this were the most pressing matter of the day. “I’ve got the coffee urns running. Flowers are arranged.” She glanced at the clipboard. “I think we’re set.”
“Of course we are,” Willa told her warmly. “You’ve been here since six.”
“Five forty-five,” Margo corrected without embarrassment. Then she looked at Willa properly, the clipboard lowering slightly, and her expression shifted into something quieter. “How are you?”
“I’ll let you know after,” Willa replied honestly.
Margo nodded once and squeezed her arm.
The chairs filled gradually over the next thirty minutes as the town arrived. Willa stood to one side with Ace and watched Sandpiper Shores come together the way it came together for things that mattered, quietly and without instruction, people finding their places and settling into them with the particular, collective solemnity of a community that had been carrying a shared loss for a decade and understood how to do it with dignity.
Tom was there, sitting near the back with Clive and Sienna on either side of him. Noah and Ginny were in the middle rows with Katey and Zoe. Rad and Tyler sat with Mina, who had dressed with the careful, understated elegance she brought to everything important. Carmen and Zane were near the front with June and the children. Willa’s eyes rested on her mother for a moment.
She was sitting with Grace on one side and Becky on the other, Becky’s hand in hers, and Andy on the other side of his youngest sister.
Then suddenly it was time for the memorial to start. Zane moved to the microphone. The crowd settled immediately.
“Good morning, and thank you for joining us here today,” Zane began, his voice calm and carrying in the morning air, “as we all remember, ten years ago, today, this town lost four extraordinary men. Men who ran toward danger when everyone else ran away from it. Men who made a choice on what wassupposed to be their day off to respond to a call they’d been asked to answer. They didn’t hesitate.” He paused. “We’re here today to remember them. To say their names. To make sure that the town they protected knows that the truth of what happened to them has finally, ten years on, been brought into the light.”
Willa listened to Zane speak and felt the familiar, practiced grief of the memorial settling over her alongside something new this year. Something that hadn’t been there in previous years. Something that felt, cautiously and tentatively, like resolution.
When her own turn came, she walked to the microphone and stood for a moment looking out at the rows of faces before she spoke. She saw Grace in the front row watching her with Shaun’s eyes. She saw Andy sitting very still, the way he sat still when he was feeling too much. She saw Becky leaning against June’s arm, her eyes locking on Willa. Then she saw Ace seated beside Andy. His hands were clasped in front of him, and his eyes were also on her.
Willa took a breath.
“Shaun Parker was my husband,” she began. “He was the best person I’ve ever known. He was patient and funny and brave in the particular way that quiet people are brave, without needing anyone to notice.” Her voice held steady. Willa hardly remembered how she got through the rest of her speech without the tears rolling down her face or the lump that was lodged in her throat choking her, but she did. Willa said what she needed to say and stepped back from the microphone.
Margo went next. Her voice was clear and warm, and she spoke about Travis Markham with the grounded, honest love of someone who had carried his loss for 10 years without letting it define everything else she was. She spoke about the otherfirefighters who had died beside him. Ace got up just as Margo finished her speech and took over the filming for Harvey so he could talk about his cousin Dylon. When he was finished, the fourth firefighter’s brother spoke for his family.
When they were done, Zane introduced Holt, who stood and briefed the town on the case and what they had learned about Gilbert. He did it without naming Victoria. All he said was that the real perpetrator was still at large and being searched for by the FBI and other law enforcement teams. Willa glanced up from her seat facing the crowd to Tom, who gave Holt a grateful smile. Today was not the day to sully the Morrison name when they were mourning the loss of five heroes whose lives had been taken by the Chief of Police’s ex-wife. Like Holt had said in a briefing yesterday, Victoria was still innocent until proven guilty, and until they heard her side of the story, there was no reason to vilify her in front of the town just yet.
Once Holt was finished and the crowd had finished clapping, Holt introduced Dr. Judy Vernon, Gilbert Fry’s older sister, and the stream switched to the hospital on the large screens Harvey had erected above the stage.
Judy’s face appeared on the screens. She was propped up against her pillows, her bandaging visible, a microphone attached to the lapel of her hospital gown. She looked fragile but determined, flanked by a few medical professionals.
“My brother Gilbert,” Judy said, her voice thin but steady, “was a good man.” She paused for breath. “He wasn’t perfect. He was stubborn, and he talked too much, and he never remembered to eat regularly.” A ripple of soft laughter moved through the crowd. “But Gilbert believed in the truth. He came to Sandpiper Shores because he believed in it. He died for it.” Another pause. “Thank you. All of you. For what you’ve done for his name.”
Judy’s eyes closed briefly. A doctor leaned in to say something quietly to her, and Judy gave a small nod.
