Part 4
“Twenty-seven months,” June said.
Cal stood. The paramedic’s white gauze showed beneath one cuff of his shirt. “Yes.”
June closed her fingers around the lure. She did not throw it at him or demand an explanation in front of fifty customers and three police agencies. That restraint was worse. She put it in the center pocket of her apron and walked toward her staff.
“June.”
“Not here.”
He followed far enough to make sure she heard him. “I came to return it.”
She turned then. “You came with it in your pocket. That is not the same thing.”
Marisol called her name from across the street. An investigator needed the alarm code, Wade had begun arguing about whether the eggs on the griddle were evidence, and the line cook wanted to know if the food in the walk-in would be discarded. June looked from one problem to another and chose the people who depended on her.
“Go sit with Max,” she told Cal. “You’re good at waiting when somebody gives it a different name.”
The state police kept the diner closed through the afternoon. By noon, the customers had been released after giving contact information. Thomas stayed until June sent him home, claiming his blood sugar gave her enough trouble on ordinary days. Wade apologized to Cal twice—once with too many reasons and once with none. The second apology was shorter and more useful.
Cal gave three statements: one to the bomb investigator, one to a state trooper, and one to Ben’s supervisor. He described his own actions as carefully as he described Max’s. When asked who had called 911, he said Wade. When asked why he had not, he said he had made the wrong choice.
“You understand that doesn’t excuse Officer Hollis,” the supervisor said.
“I didn’t say it did.”
“He had the bomb warning by the time he restrained you.”
“Yes.”
The supervisor closed his notebook. “His body camera should tell us the rest.”
Ben was placed on administrative leave pending review. He spent the afternoon at the temporary command post while investigators took his statement. His supervisor told June that the body-camera review would take weeks and that no one at the scene could decide his final discipline.
At three, investigators allowed June to enter the kitchen with an escort. Power had remained on, but the dining room was still restricted. She organized a refrigerator truck from the Baptist church and began sending usable food to the church pantry rather than risk losing it. Cal carried milk crates when she pointed and stopped moving them when she told him he was stacking them wrong.
Max slept beneath the open rear hatch of Cal’s truck, one ear angled toward the kitchen. Marisol brought him a bowl and a folded towel. No one offered him a steak. After the strain of the alert, he ate half his regular food and left the rest.
When the interviews ended near dusk, Ben approached the far end of the alley without his radio, badge, or duty belt. June saw him before Cal did and set down a box of eggs.
“Are you allowed to be here?” she asked.
“My supervisor said I could stand outside the line.” Ben stopped beyond the tape. “I won’t come closer.”
June waited.
He looked at Cal. “We had three bomb hoaxes at the high school this summer. Dispatch called you a trespasser making threats. I decided that was true before I opened the door.”
Cal said nothing.
Behind Cal, a refrigerator compressor cycled off. The alley became quiet enough to hear traffic on the highway.
“You should have backed away sooner,” Ben said. His eyes stayed on Cal’s, though the effort showed. “You were close to a suspected device, giving orders in a room you didn’t control.”
June folded her arms.
Cal nodded. “That part is true.”
Ben looked toward Max asleep by the truck. “I wrote down that I heard your warning before I cuffed you. I’m not changing that.”
June’s expression did not soften. “Good.”
“I am sorry.”
“You can be sorry without asking either of us to make you feel better.”
Ben took that without defending himself. He nodded to Cal, then to June, and left the way he had come.
Cal watched until he turned the corner. “Owen would have liked you.”
June picked up the box of eggs. “Owen liked people who made me tired.”
They loaded the last refrigerator truck after sunset. The state investigators sealed the rear door, and June stood with her keys in one hand although there was nothing left for her to lock. Cal could have driven south to the cabin he had rented. His bag was packed, and the road out of town ran past the next light.
“The lure,” he said. “It belongs to you.”
June touched the apron pocket where she had put it. “I know.”
“I should have brought it sooner.”
“I know that too.” She looked at Max, who had awakened and was watching them from the truck. “Come back at six tomorrow. The insurance adjuster will be here, and Wade will agree to anything if a man carries a clipboard.”
Cal had expected either forgiveness or dismissal. A task was harder. “All right.”
June opened her car door, then stopped with one hand on the roof. The parking lot lights showed every line around her mouth.
“Was Owen alone when he died?” she asked…
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