“Oh, wonderful,” she said sarcastically. “More of them. Maybe they finally brought somebody who understands our town.”
The first uniformed officer stepped out, adjusted his cap, and held the door for the others. They wore dark dress blues with polished buttons, white gloves, and formal cords across their shoulders. The six moved as a team, with the unhurried precision of people who had practiced together for years. Radford followed, his face set.
Pastor Quimby rose from her chair. Quentin looked up at the sound of the vehicle doors and let out a breath he had been holding for far too long.
“Told you,” he murmured to Bethany. “Five sharp.”
She turned toward the lot. For the first time since the trouble began, she allowed herself a small smile. The timing was so faithful to Radford’s character that it almost felt like a joke arranged by the universe.
The lieutenant crossed the grass without looking at Candace’s phone. He saw the scattered flowers, the tables across the aisle, and the handcuffs securing Quentin to a picnic table. His face did not change, but his pace became more direct.
When he reached Bethany, he stopped and stood at attention.
“Chief Tisdale,” he said. “Lieutenant Radford reporting. Five o’clock. Apologies if we’ve kept you waiting.”
Bethany rose from the bench. The hem of her dress caught briefly on the concrete. She freed it before she answered.
“You didn’t keep me waiting, Lieutenant. You’re right on time.”
Radford saluted. Behind him, the honor detail came to attention.
The sound of Candace’s commentary stopped as suddenly as if someone had removed the battery from her phone.
“Wes,” she said, her voice faint, “why is he saluting her?”
Burnham had turned at the sound of Radford’s voice. He stared across the grass. He knew the lieutenant. He had worked with him for years. He saw Radford’s face, the formal salute, and the woman in the white dress answering as though the greeting belonged to her.
His mouth opened. No words came.
Radford lowered his hand and looked at Quentin.
“Why is the bride’s brother restrained?”
“You tell me, Lieutenant,” Bethany said. “I believe it’s because he secured the case you delivered.”
“Quentin?” Radford asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you open it for the officers?”
“I did. I told them what it held first.”
Radford turned toward Burnham. “Wes. Explain.”
Burnham began with the dispatch summary. “We got a weapons call. The caller reported a group with swords, threatened her—”
“I delivered those sabers,” Radford said. “At three-fifteen. This man met me in the parking lot. I instructed him to keep the case secured until my team arrived.”
“I didn’t know that,” Burnham replied.
“He told you.”
Casey stepped closer. “He gave us your name, sir. And the time.”
Radford looked at the young officer, then back at Burnham. “Did you contact dispatch to verify it?”
Burnham’s silence answered before he did.
“We were in the process of—”
“Wes. It’s five o’clock.”
Candace found her voice again. “This is obviously a setup. They all know each other. They’re staging this because I challenged their little party.”
Radford turned toward her. “Ma’am, I’ve been at a graveside since midafternoon. The only thing I planned today was to pay respect to a friend and keep a promise to this family.”
“That woman was carrying chairs in a sweatsuit. She told us she was the police chief. How was anybody supposed to know?”
“You could have asked her name,” Radford said.
“I did ask.”
“Then you could have listened to the answer.”
Candace looked around for someone to support her. The people from the hillside who had once laughed with her were staring at the uniforms. Lorna had lowered her phone. Casey’s expression had gone pale.
