Now, sitting cross-legged beside my mother’s grave, I stared out at the autumn-brown hills of South San Francisco as an Alaska Air jetliner crossed overhead. I wished that my mother could see that Cat and I were both okay, that Cat was strong, that her little girls were smart and fine, and that my sister and I were friends again.

I wished I could tell her that being a cop had given my life meaning. I hadn’t always been sure of myself, but I think I had become the woman she would have wanted me to be.

I ran my hand over the curve of her headstone and said something that I didn’t often admit to myself.

“I really miss you, Mom. I wish that you were here. I wish I’d been sweeter to you when you were alive.”

Chapter 43

MY THOUGHTS FLITTED between love and death as I drove back from Colma to San Francisco. Images kept coming to me of the people I’d loved deeply who had died.

Lights glinted on the Bay Bridge as I entered the city and threaded my way through the narrow, rising streets of Potrero Hill.

I parked the Explorer a few houses down from mine, thinking ahead to my small chores and pleasures, ready to settle in for the night.

I had my keys in hand, about to open the front door, when I heard Martha’s distinctive bark coming from outside the house!

It couldn’t be, because it made no sense.

Was I crazy?

Or had Martha somehow slipped out the door when I left this morning for the funeral?

I whipped my head around, listening intently, frantically sweeping the street with my eyes.

Then I saw my doggy leaning out of the passenger-side window of a black sedan that had pulled up to the curb and was parked behind my car.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude. A good Samaritan had found her and brought her home.

I peered in through the car’s open window to thank the driver for bringing my girl back—and my heart almost stopped.

How could I have forgotten?

It was Joe.

Chapter 44

JOE’S ARMS WERE FULL of grocery bags as he got out of the car, but I grabbed and hugged and kissed him anyway as Martha leaped at my legs.

“When did you get here?” I asked.

“At ten a.m. As planned.”

“Oh, no.”

“I had a nice day. Watched some football. Took a nap with Martha. Took her shopping.”

“Oh, God, Joe.”

“You forgot that I was coming, didn’t you?”

“Oh, man. I’m so sorry. I really blew it.”

“That’s not good enough, sister. Not by half. Not even close.”

“I can explain.”

“Make it good,” he said, “and don’t even think of lawyering up.”

I laughed. Put my arm around his waist as we all clambered up the stairs.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“You bet you will,” he growled, then hugged me tight.

Inside the kitchen, Joe put the groceries on the counter, the ice cream into the freezer. Then he sat on a stool at the counter, crossed his arms, and gave me a look that said “I’m waiting.”