“Thanks for walking me home. Now go. Get away. Leave me. Shoo,” Emmaline said as she unlocked the door. “And don’t obsess over Everett. He needs experience, and if you keep hovering over him like a worried mother, he’ll never learn.”

“Have you thought of running for president?” he asked.

“I have, but I don’t photograph well. Try to have a good night, Chief.”

A night alone. It should be something he looked forward to. Sarah had shown up Tuesday night, claiming to be sick. Homesick, yes, but physically sick, no. Plus, she’d hitchhiked. With a cop for a brother! Said her car hadn’t started, so she’d gotten a ride with the Hostess deliveryman. This had required Levi to lecture her on the dangers of that and the idiocy of saying she didn’t want to go to college. “What are you gonna do if you stay here?” he’d asked sharply as he’d driven her home the next morning. “Wait tables? Be a bartender up at one of the vineyards? Don’t you want more, Sarah?” She’d answered by staring out the window, tears leaking out of her eyes, making him feel like an utter shit. She hadn’t even said goodbye when he’d pulled up in front of her dorm.

Then there’d been a wreck on Route 54...no fatality, but for the grace of God—Josh Deiner, the same kid who’d gotten Abby Vanderbeek drunk. The wreck had resulted in the kid losing his license, which brought on a huge hissy fit—he was a rich kid, not used to the rules applying to him.

And then there was Faith Holland, living across the hall from him. It was...distracting. He’d only seen her a few times, but each time, it seemed harder to shake off.

“Hey, Chief! Nasty night, isn’t it?” Lorelei called as she locked the front door of the bakery.

“It is. You be careful on the roads, okay?”

“You bet.” She beamed, then dug her car keys out of her giant purple purse. He waited till she got in her car, then watched as she drove up the street. She fishtailed slightly as she turned, but she only lived about a mile out of the village, not up the Hill, where conditions would be worse.

He opened the door to the Opera House. If there was an accident tonight, he’d definitely have to go out; Ev wasn’t up for handling that yet. That being said, Levi hadn’t had more than two nights off in a row since he was hired.

Maybe Nina’s leaving wasn’t such a mystery, after all.

He pushed the thought from his mind. His wife hadn’t left because he’d worked too much; she’d left him because she was an adrenaline-junkie chopper pilot.

Levi opened the ornate brass mailbox—bills, a movie from Netflix—then headed upstairs. Faith’s door was open, and he hesitated, almost hoping she’d come out and...hell, do what, he didn’t know. It just seemed like a long night in front of him all of a sudden.

Something pressed against his leg. Blue, the big dope. “Go home, pal,” he told him.

He went into his apartment, only to have the dog head-butt the door, probably hoping for some special time with his leg. Levi changed into a flannel shirt and jeans, putting his uniform in the hamper. Life in the military had made him become a little obsessive about neatness, something his mom and Sarah had found quite funny, as he’d been the typical teenage slob before. Not anymore. The apartment was neat as a pin, especially now that Sarah was away. He always cleaned her room after she left, since God knew she wouldn’t make a bed on her own.

He called Lorelei; she’d made it home just fine, but, yes, it was slick out, and he was an angel for checking on her.

Levi hung up, then opened the fridge, took out a bottle of Newton’s Pale Ale and surveyed his dinner options. Lots of leftovers; cooking for one wasn’t easy. Plus, there was a vat of sauce and meatballs; he’d made it for Sarah on Tuesday, since that was her favorite. Just because he didn’t want her to drop out of college didn’t mean he didn’t love his little sis.

There was the thud against the door. Blue again. Beautiful dog, but dumb as a fern. The dog was whining now. Another thud.

Levi opened the door and stared down at the dog. “What?”

Blue looked up and whined.

“Holland, your dog’s out,” Levi said. Her door was still wide open.

There was no answer.

“Faith?” He went into her apartment. “Holland, you here? Oh, shit.”

Faith was standing at the kitchen counter, plucking at her sweater. She looked confused.

If memory served, she was about to have a seizure.

“Faith? You okay?”

She didn’t turn. The dog barked once, and Faith crumpled. Levi yanked her toward him so her head wouldn’t hit the counter and eased her onto the floor. She was already jerking, poor kid, muscles stiff, jaw clenched. He turned her on her side in case she threw up. Her eyes were open and vacant, and out of reflex, Levi looked at his watch. 18:34:17. Time the seizure in case it lasted more than five minutes, that was protocol. He wasn’t an EMT for nothing.

He’d seen Faith have a seizure four or five times in school. Somehow, it was scarier now that he was the adult in charge. Her fingers were splayed and rigid, her back arching with the force of the spasms.

Blue paced back and forth, panting and whining. “It’s okay, buddy,” Levi said, his hand on Faith’s shoulder as her arms and legs spasmed. “She’ll be fine.”

18:34:42. Still seizing. What else should he say? Speak reassuringly to the victim, the nurse used to say, and the whole class knew who the victim was. “You’re okay, Faith,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”

18:35:08. “Doing great, Holland. Don’t worry. Your dog is here.” Well, that was dumb. “Me, too. I’m right here.”

It was oddly quiet, the seizure, just the sound of her shoes rubbing against the floor, the sleet pattering against the window, the sound of her hard breathing. “Hang in there, Faith.”

Shit. It couldn’t be fun, having your body and brain rebel against you like this. Her muscles were tight and clenched under his hand, her right arm out in front of her face as if shielding herself from a blow. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Almost done.” Not that he knew anything.

18:35:42. Maybe he should call her dad. As a member of the volunteer fire department, Levi knew there wasn’t anything a call to 911 would do; they’d give her oxygen, which did more to make them feel better than because she needed it. No, she was breathing fine, if hard. No blueness to her face or lips. Dr. Buckthal had done an in-service for Emergency Services last year—Marcus Shrade had a TBI from a car accident, and had grand mals a few times a year. The doc said a seizure would end when it ended. Hopefully soon. Helluva way to get a workout.

Okay, she was stopping. 18:36:04. Her arms and legs stilled, and he could feel the tension start to seep out of her, see her practically sink into the floor as the misfirings in her brain stopped and allowed her muscles to relax. Blue lay down next to her and put his head on her leg.

“Faith? You okay?” He smoothed some hair off her face. She wasn’t shaking anymore, but she was still out of it. Postictal, that was the word, staring straight ahead. The dog’s tail started thumping. “You’re in your apartment, Holland. You had a seizure, but you’re doing fine.” She blinked and swallowed but didn’t answer. He fished his phone out of his pocket and found the Hollands’ number on it. “Hey, John, it’s Levi Cooper. Listen, sir, Faith just had a seizure. Lasted about ninety seconds.”

“You saw the whole thing?” John asked, his voice sharp with concern.

“Yes, sir. Anything in particular I should do?”

“Is she awake now?”

Levi saw that he was stroking Faith’s hair, the red strands impossibly silky. “Faith? How you doing?” She swallowed and looked up at him. “Your dad’s on the phone. You want to talk to him?”

She blinked. “My dad?”

“Yep. She’s coming around, sir.” He held the phone to Faith’s ear, and she reached up, her arm wobbling a little.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said. “Um...I...I don’t know.” She closed her eyes and frowned. “I’m fine. I think Levi...I don’t know. Okay. Here he is.”

Levi took the phone back. “Anything I should do?” he asked.

“I’m coming right down,” her father said.

“The roads are pretty icy.” He paused. “I can stay with her, or take her to the hospital, if you think she should go.”

“I don’t wanna go anywhere,” Faith muttered. “I’m tired.”

“She says she’s tired,” Levi added.

John sighed into the phone. “How bad are the roads?”

“Bad enough to stay put. What does she need?”

“A nap. Someone to keep an eye on her. That usually does the trick. Damn, she hasn’t had one of these in a long time.”

Faith seemed to be sleeping. “I can stay with her for a while,” he said. “I live right across the hall.”

Her father hesitated. “You sure?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

John sighed. “Okay. I’d appreciate that. If you could call me when she wakes up, that’d be great. Generally, she sleeps for a little while, seems a little groggy, but otherwise, she’s fine. She probably missed a few doses of her medication. But if she seizes again, call me right away.”

“You got it. I’ll check in later.”

“Thanks, son. You’re a good kid.”

Levi put his phone on the counter. “Faith? You awake?”

“I’m tired,” she said without opening her eyes.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

“I need to lose fifteen pounds first.”

He felt the start of a smile. “I can manage.” He slid his arms under her and lifted her up. Okay, she wasn’t a wisp of a thing, she had a point. She sure smelled good, though, sweet and warm. Her head settled against his shoulder, her hair brushing his chin.

The dog trotted into another room, tail waving, and Levi followed. Set her down on the unmade bed and took off her shoes. “Thanks, Levi,” she murmured, her voice distant.

He pulled the covers over her. Blue jumped up and put his head on her hip. Faith reached out to pet him without opening her eyes. “I’ll be out here if you need me,” Levi said.

“Okay.” Her eyes were closed, lashes a dark smudge against her cheeks.

Levi reached out to smooth her hair again, but he stopped himself. She was awake now. Sort of.

He went into her living room; her apartment was more or less the same as his, minus one bedroom. Unlike his, though, hers looked...homey, which was strange, because she was just back for a little while, so far as he knew. Nevertheless, one wall had been painted fire-engine red, and there was a red-and-purple throw on the couch. A bookcase held a couple dozen books, some photos and keepsakes. A women’s magazine was open on the coffee table, as well as a giant red mug with a sunflower painted on it. Her kitchen counter held a vase of yellow flowers. The wine rack was filled, he noted. As it would be, if your family owned a vineyard.

A gust of wind sent sleet crackling against the window, making him jump a little. It always surprised him, how innocent a gun could sound, like firecrackers. Or sleet.

Time to be useful. He picked up her cup and went to the kitchen. The dishwasher was full of clean dishes. Taking care to be quiet, he unloaded it, figuring out where things went, then wiped down her counters. Folded the blanket on her couch. Turned on the TV, found the YES Network, saw that the Yanks’ game had been canceled due to rain. Clicked around for a little while, then turned the TV off. Pulled out his phone and called Everett.

“How are things going, Ev?”

“Great, Chief! Um, we had one call asking for help on how to put the battery into a smoke detector—that was Methalia Lewis, and lucky for me, I have the same kind, so I was able to walk her through it just fine, Chief.”

The pride in Everett’s voice was obvious. “Good job.”

“Thanks, Chief!”

“Anything else comes up, just give me a call.”

“Roger that, Chief Cooper. Over and out.”

Seemed like the good people of Manningsport had exhibited some excellent common sense thus far and stayed off the roads tonight.

He looked in at Faith, who was sleeping with her arm around the dog. She might be hungry when she woke up. Going back to the kitchen, he checked her fridge. A bottle of white wine, an open Pepperidge Farm chocolate cake box, a roll of Pillsbury Dough cinnamon rolls, and a jar of artichokes. Cooking wasn’t her thing, apparently. He went back to his apartment, grabbed the container of meatballs and sauce, as well as a box of linguine, and took it back to Faith’s. She’d been asleep for about an hour now.

What to do. Levi drifted over to the bookcase. There was a sock monkey with pink button eyes and a pink bow. A little red vase, a tiny metal chicken. He couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine collecting such clutter. A Derek Jeter bobblehead. Here was a framed photo of her family at Pru and Carl’s wedding. Looked like Faith had been the flower girl—she was maybe nine or ten in the picture, holding a bouquet of flowers. Pru looked the same, except for some gray hair, and Carl did, too, though he’d thickened over the years. Mrs. Holland had been a knockout, same red hair as Faith, smiling at the bride, her arm around her husband. Jack looked sheepish, Honor pretty. A Golden retriever sat obediently next to Faith.

He put the photo down and went onto the next one. Faith and a friend in front of the Golden Gate Bridge on a foggy day, both of them laughing. Another showed Faith in work boots and jeans and a flannel shirt, standing in front of a fountain.