She says, looking at him steadily. Go ahead. Has anyone actually seen me touch that register today? Besides finding cash in my pocket, Larkin hesitates. Not that anyone's told me.
Then I'd ask you to keep an open mind, Josie says. That's all. Something about her calm unsettles him more than tears would have. Grant watches from the booth, arms still crossed, feeling like he's won. He doesn't notice Ryan staring down at the table, jaw tight, saying nothing.
He doesn't notice Frank Doyle still on his stool, not touching his coffee, watching everything with the sharp eyes of a man who used to do this job. As Larkin leads Josie toward the door, the diner bell chimes behind them. Someone else is walking in. The woman who steps through the door looks exactly like Josie. Same height, same eyes, same quiet, dangerous calm.
For one long second, the whole diner seems to freeze in place. She's wearing a deputy's uniform. County badge catching the light on her chest. Her eyes find Josie first cuffed hands. Sheriff at her side.
Then they move slow and deliberate across the room. Landing on Grant, then Chase, then Dean, then Ryan, then Cole. Five faces. She studies each one like she's memorizing them for later. Sheriff, she says, voice even.
I'm going to need you to hold on a moment. Larkin blinks. "I'm Deputy Addie Mallister, county office, next district over. " She holds up her badge. That's my sister.
You're walking out of here in cuffs. The diner goes utterly silent. Even the coffee pot seems to stop hissing. Grant recovers first, smug despite himself. Family reunion.
How touching. Addie turns to look at him. Really look at him. The kind of look that makes grown men want to sit down quietly. You must be Grant Whitmore, she says.
I've heard a lot about you. All good things, I hope, Grant says, grinning at his friends. Not one word of it, Addie says. She steps further into the room, slow, unhurried, every eye on her now. I don't know exactly what happened here today.
Not yet. But I know my sister, and I know when something's been staged. Grant's smile falters just barely. That's a big accusation. It's not an accusation, Addie says.
It's a warning. She looks at each of the five young men in turn one more time. Then she says the words that will echo through this town for years. Drop my sister or get five coffins ready. Nobody laughs this time.
For one full moment, nobody in the diner moves. Sheriff Larkin clears his throat uncomfortable. Deputy, that's a serious thing to say. It's meant to be, Addie says, not backing down an inch. Grant stands up from the booth trying to reclaim the room.
Are you threatening us in front of a sheriff? I don't make threats, Addie says calmly. I make promises I intend to keep. And that promise has five names attached to it right now. Frank Doyle finally speaks, rising slowly from his stool.
Deputy Mallister, he says carefully. Did you say Mallister? Addie turns to him, something flickering behind her composed expression. "That's right. " Frank's face goes pale like he's seeing a ghost standing in front of him.
"What was your father's name? " he asks quietly. If you don't mind me asking. The whole diner watches this exchange now the earlier drama forgotten for a moment. Walter Mallister.
Why? Frank sits back down, hand pressed to his chest like the air left him. I served under your father, he says. For almost 15 years, Josie, still standing by the door in cuffs, goes very still. You knew our dad?
She asks, voice smaller than anyone's heard it yet. I did, Frank says. I knew him well. Too well, maybe. Larkin looks between all of them, clearly out of his depth now.
I think, he says slowly. We need to slow this whole thing down. Agreed, Daddy says, starting with taking those cuffs off my sister. Larkin, uncertain but not unreasonable, removes the cuffs a few minutes later. He agrees to hold off on formal charges until he reviews the evidence.
Grant protests loudly, but even he can sense the room shifting under him. "This is ridiculous, " he mutters, grabbing his jacket. "Let's go, guys. " His friends follow, though Ryan lingers a half second longer than the rest. His eyes meet Josie's for just a moment before he turns away.
Something passes between them. Neither says anything about it. Not yet. Once the five of them clear out, the diner exhales as one. Rosie hurries over, hands shaking.
Josie, I am so sorry. I never wanted. I know, Josie says gently. You didn't have a choice. I always have a choice, Rosie says.
I just made the wrong one today. Addie crosses the room and pulls her sister into a tight hug. Neither of them says a word for a long moment. When they finally step back, Addie studies her sister's face carefully. "You look tired, " she says.
"I am tired, " Josie admits. "But I'm okay. I promise. You didn't have to come, " Josie adds quietly. "I had it handled.
" "You always say that, " Addie says. "And you're always wrong about it. " I'm not wrong this time. I was one signature away from being fired. Or worse.
Addie says that sheriff had cuffs on you, Josie. I know. I felt them. Don't joke about it. I'm not joking, Josie says softly.
I just don't know another way to sit with it. Addie reaches over and takes her sister's hand. The way she used to when they were kids, scared of thunderstorms. We do this together from here, she says. No more solo missions.
I've been doing it alone a long time, Josie admits. Because it felt safer that way for both of us. Maybe, Addie says. Or maybe you just got used to carrying it by yourself. Dad would have wanted us doing this side by side, not you out front, me chasing paperwork behind you.
Josie is quiet for a moment, looking at their joined hands. Okay, she finally says together. Together, Addie repeats, squeezing once before letting go. The two sisters step outside a while later, away from curious eyes. They sit on the curb near Addie's car, same as they did as kids.