The Bill of Sale
Sterling Halloran was halfway through wiping fingerprints from the chrome bumper of his dark-green 1968 Ford Mustang when Hadley Lockwood came marching across the cul-de-sac.
She waved a sheet of paper above her head like a warrant.
Her nineteen-year-old son, Bryson, followed three steps behind.
Sterling didn't look up immediately.
He knew the difference between someone who wanted to talk and someone who wanted an audience.
Hadley always wanted an audience.
She wore a bright-pink blouse, white ankle pants, gold sandals, and an expensive watch that flashed beneath the Georgia afternoon sun. Her perfectly styled hair didn't move despite the breeze.
Bryson looked almost like her younger copy.
Pale-pink polo.
White shorts.
Spotless sneakers.
And the confident expression of someone who had already been promised the outcome.
Sterling continued polishing the Mustang.
The car sat half inside the open garage, its deep-green paint appearing almost black in the shade. Chrome trim ran along its body like silver ribbons. The restored wheels reflected the afternoon light.
Under the hood sat the V8 engine Sterling had rebuilt with his son, Tate.
The Mustang wasn't simply an automobile.
It was memory.
Hadley stopped directly in front of him.
“Move away from the vehicle.”
Sterling slowly lowered the cloth.
“Excuse me?”
She slapped the paper against his chest.
“My son owns this Mustang now.”
Sterling caught the document before it fell.
He looked down.
A bill of sale.
His name appeared beneath a signature.
So did Bryson Lockwood's.
Purchase price: $35,000.
Sterling stared at it for several seconds.
Then he looked at Hadley.
“You forged one signature too many.”
Bryson stepped forward and placed his hand on the Mustang's roof.
“Mom said the car is mine.”
Sterling's eyes moved to his hand.
“Take it off.”
Bryson smiled.
“Or what?”
Sterling looked directly at him.
“You're touching something that doesn't belong to you.”
Bryson laughed.
“It's going to belong to me in about five minutes.”
Hadley pointed toward the street.
“I already called the police.”
Sterling glanced beyond her.
Two marked police cruisers were turning into Briarwood Glen Estates.
Hadley smiled.
“There. Now maybe you're starting to understand.”
Sterling slowly removed his gray baseball cap.
“No, Hadley.”
The first cruiser stopped twenty feet from the driveway.
“I think you're about to.”
Two officers stepped out.
Sergeant Tucker Brennan recognized Sterling first.
His expression changed immediately.
Officer Lane Murchison followed his sergeant's gaze.
Both men looked at Sterling.
Then, almost simultaneously, they straightened.
Their hands rose.
They saluted.
“Chief Halloran, sir.”
Hadley's mouth fell open.
Bryson's hand immediately left the Mustang.
Sterling returned the salute.
For the first time since he had moved into Briarwood Glen, he allowed Hadley Lockwood to discover exactly who the quiet man she had spent eighteen months trying to intimidate really was.
The Man Who Wanted to Disappear
Sterling Halloran had never moved to Briarwood Glen to impress anyone.
That was precisely the point.
For six years, he had served as chief of the Cederville Police Department.
Before that came nearly three decades of patrol work, investigations, command meetings, midnight calls, courtroom testimony, and the endless responsibility of making decisions that could change people's lives.
He had supervised more than forty officers.
He had signed disciplinary reports.
He had testified against criminals.
He had stood in front of cameras after tragedies and tried to explain the unexplainable.
But none of that was what he wanted after Margaret died.
He wanted quiet.
Margaret had been his wife for thirty-two years.
Four years earlier, a brain aneurysm had taken her without warning.
One moment she had been standing in the kitchen making coffee.