JUNE 22

Brownie slipped back into her mother's room, her gaze wandering around the space as if she was seeing it for the first time. The soft, golden light streaming through the window highlighted the room's warm, inviting atmosphere. Brownie sat down on the bed, running her hand over the vintage quilt, feeling a deep connection to the woman who once slept beneath it.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since the previous day. "That's right, I haven't had any food since yesterday," she said, patting her stomach gently, as if consoling it. Her eyes drifted to the bedside table, where the mug she had used earlier sat. The table was piled high with dusty, leather-bound books on legislature, revealing a fascinating glimpse into her mother's interests.

As she scanned the titles, Brownie's curiosity was piqued. Her mother's passion for law was evident, and Brownie wondered if this had been a dream Elizabeth had put on hold, or one she had pursued before her life was tragically cut short.

Brownie felt a fragile sense of comfort beginning to take root within her. For the first time in her life, she was unraveling the mysteries of her mother's past, and the experience was both exhilarating and overwhelming. The sheer velocity of it all – the revelations, the emotions, the memories – threatened to engulf her.

As she struggled to process the tidal wave of feelings, Brownie buried her face in her palms, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm the turbulent waters within. She let her body relax, sinking into the softness of the bed, ready to surrender to the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind.

But even as she drifted toward the precipice of sleep, her mind refused to quiet. Thoughts swirled, memories beckoned, and the soft, whispery voice of her mother seemed to echo through the chambers of her heart. The Sleep Train, as she fondly thought of it, seemed to be running on a delayed schedule, leaving her stranded at the crossroads of wakefulness and slumber.

The revving sound from earlier roared back to life, its loud, raspy growl piercing the air and shattering the tranquility of the room. 

Brownie's mother's room, nestled at the back of the house, shared a yard with the neighboring residence, leaving little buffer against the cacophony.

"It's going to stop anytime now," Brownie muttered, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and hope.

But the universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke on her. The moment she spoke, the revving ceased, plunging the room into an unsettling silence. Her eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin.

And then, as if mocking her, the engine roared back to life, its deafening rumble vibrating through every molecule of air. 

Brownie's exasperation boiled over.

"Who the hell is that?" she demanded, her voice rising in irritation, as if she expected someone in the room to provide an answer.

Brownie's anger propelled her upward, and she sat up with a start, her eyes blazing with irritation. She glared in the direction of the revving sound, her gaze fixed on the window as if willing the noise to cease.

"If this were back in the city, the cops would've been here already," she muttered, her voice low and annoyed. She strode over to the window, her movements fueled by frustration.

As she peered out into the yard, the revving sound grew louder, and she saw two men clad in leather jackets and helmets, preparing to mount a sleek, black motorcycle. The bike's chrome pipes glinted in the morning light, and Brownie's eyes narrowed as she took in the scene.

Brownie's eyes remained fixed on the duo, her gaze accusatory, even though she knew they couldn't see her. She was genuinely irked by the noise, and her annoyance only intensified as she watched them roar off into the street.

As the motorcycle disappeared from view, Brownie's expression turned disapproving. 

"Two grown men on a motorbike in this modern age?" she said, shaking her head. "They should really get a car." Her tone was laced with a mix of disdain and puzzlement, as if she couldn't fathom why anyone would choose to ride a bike when a more practical, comfortable option was available.

Brownie lingered at the window, her gaze drifting aimlessly along the quiet street. The sounds of the motorcycle had faded into the distance, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves in the morning breeze. Her reverie was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," she called out, her voice carrying across the room. The door creaked open, and Brownie turned to face the newcomer, her expression curious. And it was Sandra. 

Sandra glided into the room, her flower-patterned gown rustling softly as she moved. Her hands cradled a beautifully crafted scarf, its intricate stitches a testament to her skill and patience. A warm smile spread across her face as she approached Brownie.

"Come on, let me put it on for you," Sandra said, her eyes twinkling with excitement, as she gestured for Brownie to turn around.

As Sandra wrapped the scarf around Brownie's neck, her eyes searched eagerly for a reaction. "How is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Brownie's fingers instinctively reached up to touch the scarf, feeling the soft, gentle texture. A soft smile spread across her face as she looked at Sandra.

"It feels like a hug," Brownie said, her voice filled with emotion. "A really warm hug."

Sandra's face lit up with joy, and she beamed with pride. "Thank you," Brownie added, her eyes shining with gratitude, as she wrapped the scarf a little tighter around her neck, savoring the warmth and love that it represented.

Sandra's voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes welling up with tears. "It's the least I can do for my granddaughter," she said, her words barely above a whisper.

The uncanny resemblance between Brownie and her mother seemed to transport Sandra back in time. "It's like having my baby girl all over again," she whispered, her hand reaching out to gently touch Brownie's face.

Brownie's eyes began to sting as she felt a deep sense of connection to this woman, who was essentially a stranger, yet somehow felt like family. She hadn't experienced this kind of warmth and affection from anyone since her mother's passing, and even those memories were slowly fading with time.

As Sandra's tears fell, Brownie's own emotions overflowed, and she felt a lump form in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears, but it was no use. The dam had broken, and she let out a sob, feeling a sense of release and comfort in Sandra's presence.

After a gentle, comforting hug, Sandra smiled warmly at Brownie and said, "Let's go and eat, I've served breakfast." As she spoke, she took Brownie's hand in hers, her grip warm and reassuring.

With a gentle tug, Sandra guided Brownie towards the dining table, treating her like a little girl who needed to be led. And in that moment, Brownie felt a deep sense of nostalgia wash over her. She felt like a little girl again, carefree and innocent, with no worries or responsibilities to weigh her down.

It was a feeling she hadn't experienced in a long time, perhaps not since her childhood. Life had forced her to grow up too quickly, to take on roles and responsibilities that had stolen her innocence. But in this moment, with Sandra's guiding hand and warm smile, Brownie felt like she could let her guard down, just for a little while, and be a little girl again.

Brownie settled into the creaky porch swing, her gaze drifting across the street to where a group of children laughed and played together. Their joyful smiles and carefree shouts were like a bittersweet melody, evoking memories of happier times.

She remembered the countless afternoons she and John had spent playing together, their imaginations running wild as they explored the world around them. It was just the two of them, but it was enough. They had each other, and that was all that mattered.

As the memories washed over her, Brownie's eyes welled up with tears. They flowed down her cheeks like autumn rain, leaving behind a trail of sorrow. The pain of losing John still felt like an open wound, and the ache in her heart was a constant reminder of what she had lost.

She missed John with every fiber of her being. The thought of him was a heavy burden she carried with her every day, a reminder of the happiness they had shared and the future they would never have.

Brownie's gaze remained lost in thought, her eyes fixed on the children playing across the street, until a gentle voice broke the spell. "Do you want to tag along?" Grandpa Sam asked, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

She turned to face him, a hint of surprise on her face. Sam had been watching her from inside the house, his wise eyes seeing beyond the mask of strength she wore. He knew that beneath the tough exterior of Detective Jerome lay a broken child, one who had grown up with pain and resentment etched on her heart.

"Tag along? Where are we going?" Brownie asked, her curiosity piqued.

Sam chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. "To do some stakeout, Detective Jerome," he said, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm. They both laughed, the sound warm and comforting.

As they stood there, Sam's expression turned serious, his eyes filled with kindness. "You look beautiful smiling," he said, his voice low and sincere.

Brownie's cheeks flushed, and she looked away, her heart touched by Sam's words. He added, jokingly, "Now I know why you don't smile much – to keep the men away." They both laughed again, the tension broken, and Brownie felt a sense of belonging, of being accepted for who she was.

Sam was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, always ready to offer a warm smile and a listening ear to anyone in need. He was the epitome of the "cool grandpa," and the kids in Nyack adored him. His infectious enthusiasm and kind spirit made him a beloved figure in the community.

"I'll be happy to tag along," Brownie replied, a genuine smile spreading across her face. The prospect of exploring the town with Sam was just the distraction she needed. The pain of her past still lingered, but with Sam by her side, she felt a sense of hope and renewal. The opportunity to see the town through his eyes was too enticing to resist, and she was eager to experience the charm of Nyack firsthand.

"Let's go then!" Sam exclaimed, leading the way to his car, which was parked elegantly in front of the house. Brownie's eyes widened as she caught sight of the sleek, black Mercedes Benz 190SL. Its curved lines and chrome accents gleamed in the sunlight, exuding a timeless elegance that only a vintage car could possess.

Brownie's heart skipped a beat as she approached the car. She had always had a passion for vintage cars, and the 190SL was one of her favorites. The way the light danced across its sleek body, the sound of its engine purring to life – it was a sensory experience like no other. She couldn't help but run her hand over the car's smooth hood, feeling a sense of excitement and nostalgia wash over her.

Brownie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she gazed at the sleek, black Mercedes Benz 190SL. "Is this a 190SL?" she asked, her voice filled with awe and reverence.

Sam's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Yes, you certainly know your cars!" he exclaimed, impressed by her knowledge.

"Classics are the best," Brownie said, her passion for vintage cars evident in her tone. "They're the strongest and most original versions of any car brand. I happen to have a 300SL Gullwing back in the city." She smiled, her eyes gleaming with pride.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head good-naturedly. "Show-off," he teased, grinning at her.

"Do you want to drive?" he asked, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Brownie hesitated, her gaze flicking to the unfamiliar roads. "I'd love to, but I'm not familiar with the route."

Sam chuckled. "That's obvious," he said, laughing. "Don't worry, I'll show you around."

As they slid into the car, Brownie was enveloped by a misty scent that seemed both familiar and strange. She glanced up at the rearview mirror, trying to locate the source of the fragrance. Her eyes landed on an air freshener dangling from the mirror, its gentle sway releasing a soothing aroma into the air.

As Brownie fastened her seatbelt, she turned to Sam with a curious expression.

 "So, where are we headed?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Her hands moved deftly over the steering wheel as she navigated the car out of the driveway. "Mendes Construction," he replied, his voice low and smooth.

Brownie's eyebrows arched slightly, her interest piqued. "What's at Mendes Construction?" she asked, her tone inquiring.

Sam's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, but he didn't elaborate, leaving Brownie to wonder what lay ahead.

As the gentle breeze caressed Brownie's cheek, she drove steadily down the winding road, feeling carefree and alive. With Sam by her side, she felt like a tourist exploring a new city, and he was her knowledgeable guide. The only difference was that she was behind the wheel, navigating the scenic route.

Brownie's gaze drifted outside, taking in the picturesque views of the town. She listened intently to Sam's stories, asking questions and responding thoughtfully. The warm sunshine and fresh air seemed to wash away her worries, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace.

When the Police Commissioner had first informed her of her vacation, Brownie had been at a loss for what to do. Her social life was nonexistent, and she would have likely spent the week holed up in her bed. But this unexpected adventure with Sam had been a revelation. With every turn of the wheel, she felt like she was getting closer to her mother, reconnecting with a part of herself she thought was lost.

Sam's question broke the spell, and Brownie's gaze snapped back to the road. "So, you got any hobbies other than vintage cars?" he asked, his warm smile making her feel at ease.

The question caught Brownie off guard. She had never really thought about having hobbies. Her life had been consumed by her work, and she hadn't explored many other interests. "Not that I know of," she replied, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. "I haven't tried a lot of things," she added, a hint of wistfulness in her voice.

Sam's smile broadened, revealing his neatly spaced teeth, as he said, "Good thing you're still young." His eyes twinkled with warmth, and Brownie felt a sense of comfort in his presence.

The drive was nothing short of enchanting. The gentle breeze rustled through Brownie's hair, while the soft music drifting from the radio created a soothing melody that seemed to lull the world into a peaceful slumber. Brownie felt her tension ease, replaced by a sense of serenity she hadn't experienced in years.

As they approached a turn, Sam gestured with his hand, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Make a left here," he said, his voice low and smooth.

Brownie turned the wheel, and the car glided down a slope, leading them to a construction site. But something felt off. The site was eerily empty, devoid of the usual bustle of construction workers and machinery. The silence was oppressive, heavy with an air of foreboding.

"We're here," Sam said, his voice low and serious.

Brownie turned off the engine, her eyes locked on Sam as she waited for his next move. But before he could say a word, a loud gunshot shattered the silence, making them both jump.