“Because there’s someone else here to see you.”
Ava looked toward the door, fully expecting to see Jeffrey. He’d left a few hours ago to head back with her father so they could get something to eat and potentially come back later in the day. But it wasn’t Jeffrey that stepped into the room. Instead, the smiling and somewhat uncertain face of Pawlowski came in through the doorway.
Pawlowski cringed when she saw Ava. She tried a smile, but it faltered a bit too easily. “My God. If you came out thewinner, what about the loser?”
“The loser,” Frank said, “was a man by the name of Jim Spurlock. And once he’s out of the infirmary, he’ll be spending the rest of his life in prison.”
“Infirmary?” Pawlowski said.
Frank had shared it all with Ava earlier and though she didn’t need to hear it again, Pawlowski seemed very interested.
“Broken wrist, fractured nose, two dislodged teeth, a black eye that had swollen almost entirely shut,” Frank said. “And all I did was shoot the poor bastard.”
Ava didn’t comment. She didn’t want Spurlock’s capture to come off as a punchline or comedic afterthought. Honestly, she still hadn’t properly processed the fact that he’d been caught—that the man that had killed her husband was officially off the streets.
She knew he’d be proud of her. And that suddenly seemed like one of the most important parts of the entire journey.
“So how long are you out of commission?” Pawlowski asked. “I had a partner for all of two days and look at what happened.”
Ava felt a pang of awkwardness as she mentioned their partnership, but Frank waved it away as soon as he saw it cross her face. “Pawlowski and me already talked about it. I know you impressed Captain Miller. And maybe even Pawlowski, too.”
“Maybe a little,” Pawlowski said, grinning.
“If it works, it works,” Frank said. “And with you in another precinct, maybe it would makes things easier on us. That is, if you’ll still have me.”
“I’ll still have you,” Ava said, reaching out for his hand. Frank leaned in and kissed her on the corner of the mouth.
“I just got here,” Pawlowski said. “Are you two really going to make me leave already?”
They all laughed at this, missing the sound of Jeffrey and Roosevelt coming into the room. “What’s funny?” Roosevelt asked.
“Nothing much,” Frank said.
“Just Wimbly and me fighting over your daughter, sir,” Pawlowski said.
Roosevelt looked at his daughter as Jeffrey climbed up in bed with her. The smile he gave her made Ava feel a surge of lovethat she hadn’t felt from him since her final few times in a boxing ring, studying under him.
“Yeah,” he said, not looking away from her. “She’s certainly one worth fighting for, ain’t she?”
Unable to take the emotional rollercoaster of it all, Ava turned her attention to Pawlowski, asking what she’d been doing ever since they’d officially booked Fairfax. And as Pawlowski filled her in, Ava allowed herself to appreciate the moment. While she lay in a hospital bed with stitches in her head and the knowledge that Clarence’s killer was going to prison, a perfect presentation of her life was in the room with her.
Her father, who’d raised her most of his life without a mother or mother-figure present. Her son, who had kept her sane on the nights Clarence had worked late and then in the days immediately following his death. Of course, there was Frank—a hopeful picture of her present and a promising future. Pawlowski also stood in the path of her future, a shining beacon of what a career might be like away from the precinct Clarence had ruled for so long, in a new office space where not everyone saw the shadow of her late husband trailing behind her.
And though she’d love him until she, too, was no longer breathing, she also knew he would expect her to move on. To move on and thrive.
With Spurlock now in prison, Ava felt that Clarence could truly be at rest now.
And she could, as well…no matter what the future might hold.