“Muffinhead,” she calls as she passes them. “Please, take care of him!”
An officer opens the back of the marked car, and the other guides Jo inside. They shut the door and Finn wonders if he will ever see Jo Allard again.
Once the police car has driven off, Paula gently pulls Finn up by his elbow. “Why don’t you ride in the back with Muffinhead?” she asks. “He looks like he could use the company.”
Right, Finn thinks.It’s Muffinhead who needs the company.
Finn climbs into the back with the dog, who turns around twice before settling in. He lays his chin flat on the seat, and Finn can’t help but read into it. His people are gone, and he won’t be seeing them again.
“I know how you feel.” Finn leans over and presses his own head against the dog’s soft ears. “But it’s all over now.”
THREE MONTHS LATER
As I park my car in downtown Silver Spring, I notice the very first red leaf on a maple tree. Fall has always felt like the real beginning of the new year to me. The windows of the stores I walk by as I head to meet Finn all feature back-to-school sales, and I fight back the anxiety I feel about Rachel not going to college this fall.
Inside the Black Lion Café, Finn has grabbed a table in the corner. The sound is loud in here, reverberating off the high ceilings, but I am thrilled that it doesn’t bother my head at all. Headaches are rare these days, and while I still have not recalled all my memories of that awful night in June, a neurologist recently pronounced me recovered. Physically, at least. The emotional recovery is taking a lot longer.
Finn rises as I come in, and we hug. Maybe it’s my imagination, but he feels more substantial than he did last June. I pull back and look at him—it’s not just the extra pounds, which he wears well, but a senseof solidness. Maybe it’s the finality of knowing what happened to Autumn.
“You look great,” I say.
“You do too.” He sits. “I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and ordered two tiramisus. Before I moved to Washington, I honestly didn’t even know what tiramisu was, and now it’s on my list of the top five things I can’t live without.”
“Perfect,” I say, pulling the plate closer to me. “You seem happy.”
“Do I? You know what? I think I am.”
“You like your new place, living in Silver Spring?”
“I love it. I have a tiny apartment—tiny—but it’s mine. Muffinhead has adapted to apartment living, and there’s a dog park nearby. I love my new job at the Silver Spring Library, which I can walk to; plus, there’s cafés, farmers markets, a movie theater,” he says. “And I’m near the Metro, of course. I’m almost done with my applications to grad school, so fingers crossed on that front. And I’m seeing someone. So yeah. I’m good.”
“And you basically solved a murder.” I point my fork at him.
“I had a little help. A lot of help. I’m just grateful that Jo and Daniel are pleading guilty so I won’t have to testify. I actually feel kind of bad for Van and Eloïse.”
“They’ll be okay. Believe me,” I say, trying to keep the bitterness out of my voice. “They’re both at Stanford and they basically have access to all the family money now.”
“I’m glad it didn’t go to trial. I didn’t want to deal with that.”
“Me too. I feel the same way,” I say. “It would have been a media circus. And of course, it’s mostly thanks to Yumi’s testimony.”
“Yup. She saw Jo leave the house that night after the gunshots, and she accepted money from them to keep quiet. They didn’t have much of a defense. Were you surprised Yumi cooperated?”
I shake my head. “No, not at all. I think she felt horrible. I think she was glad to finally get it out in the open.”
“No consequences for her though.”
“Well, she was charged as an accessory after the fact to Autumn’s murder. She was given a sentence of one year’s probation and a suspended sentence of two years.”
“So basically nothing.”
“That’s not nothing. That’s pretty bad.”
“Wow, you guys are still friends.”
I sigh. “It’s complicated. She’s all alone in the world. She just started dialysis this week. I haven’t really forgiven her for everything but at the same time… I promised her, you know, that I would look after Ryan. And so I kind of have to look after her too.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “Let me rephrase that. I am choosing to, I don’t have to.”
“You’re a better person than I am.”
