Page 5 of You'll Be Sorry

Leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints.

Grady glanced around the empty great room one last time. The half-eaten snacks. Recently poured drinks. Barely touched puzzle.

As if a family of six had been sitting right here, eating right here, laughing right here.

Then, in the next instant…

Grady got on his radio and reported in to dispatch.

On the front porch, Dog began a mournful howl.

1

Amanda Grady had never meant to follow in her father’s footsteps. Growing up in a small town where your dad is the local police chief isn’t exactly a good time. Maybe briefly, in grade school, when six- and seven-year-olds were enthralled with shiny badges and commanding uniforms. Come middle school, forget it.

Shereford, by virtue of its limited size, sent its teenagers off to a collective high school two towns over. Sigh of relief. Finally, Mandy could be Mandy.

Nope. First day, her father insisted on dropping her off in his cruiser. Then he stood there in full uniform, giving the dead-man’s stare to anyone who so much as glanced in her direction.

Mandy had cried that night. Possibly every night for most of high school. Then, being the sensible sort, she’d gotten the hell out of Dodge. Fuck small-town life. Fuck nosy neighbors and claustrophobic community. For that matter, fuck her family.

Every teenager has that moment. Mandy took her rebellion all the way to New York City, where she ultimately became a tattoo artist while dating only men with criminal records and women with interesting piercings.

Her father had a conniption, but in his dad-like way, he did an excellent job of radiating disapproval without ever saying a word. Her mother was much more practical. “Certainly, you must be you. Be asmuch you as you can handle. And then, when you remember you’re also part us, you know where we’ll be.”

Mandy returned to the fold seven years and several heartbreaks later. But no real regrets. She stood by that, though her mother took most of the credit. Of course, Mandy had to be a hundred percent Mandy. Then and only then could Mandy grow into the rest of herself. Welcome home, Mandy.

There were times Mandy was definitely grinding her teeth through these exchanges.

But yeah, she returned to Shereford. Bartended in the winter. Took up landscaping work in the summer. Skied and hiked in between. Dating scene sucked. Forget there being other twentysomethings. The outdoor adventurers from her class had long taken off for Colorado or Utah, places with “real mountains,” while the brainiacs had headed for Boston, and everyone else had gone everywhere else. Basically, no one who grew up in Shereford stayed in Shereford.

And yet, here she was, working three jobs at any given time, while dating online because the local pond was beyond overfished.

Her dad died.

Chief Ian Grady. Bastion of the community. Not just revered and partially feared—as any good cop should be—but also beloved. Mandy could never figure out who cried more, her, her mother, or the endless trail of neighbors streaming in and out of their house. It felt like it went on forever but was probably more like five days.

Massive cardiac event, Mandy learned, was code for one day the person you love most in the world is alive and healthy, and the next instant, he’s not.

And you’ll never be the same again.

Within a matter of months, Mandy had moved back in with her mom, who suddenly couldn’t seem to remember to eat or pay bills or, some days, get out of bed.

In the beginning, Mandy assumed it was due to depression, but then when other troubling symptoms appeared…

Mandy laid her mother to rest next to her father almost exactly one year later.

Twenty-nine years old. No family ties. No personal obligations.

She could go anywhere. Do anything. Be anyone.

Which is why even she questioned her desire to suddenly take night classes in criminal justice, finishing up her on-again, off-again pursuit of a college degree, while also spending time hanging out on the shooting range with the other local cops, many of whom remembered her from when she was “this tall” and spoke of her father with such awe she couldn’t decide if she was honoring his memory or castigating herself. Maybe she longed for the sense of security she’d always felt in his presence. Slowly but surely, however, she came to realize she could now find it in herself.

Either way, when her father’s successor, a total misogynistic SOB, was forced to resign due to a criminal indictment (his own), it seemed perfectly logical for Mandy to step up.

Most likely out of respect for her dad, the locals welcomed her with open arms.

She tried very hard not to cry when she was being sworn in. Tried to picture her father and his stiff upper lip.Be their friend, while retaining your objectivity. A good cop is close to his community, but he’s always the outsider looking in.