“I’m guessing Trooper Shane Lyons, out of the Framingham barracks.”

“The union rep!” D.D. stated.

“Yep. As well as the officer who made the initial call.”

“Then that’s who we’ll be interviewing next.” D.D. glanced at the distant horizon, noticed for the first time the rapidly fading daylight, and felt her heart sink. “Oh no. Bobby … It’s nearly dark!”

“Then we’d better work faster.”

Bobby turned down the walk. D.D. followed quickly behind him.

Chapter 10

10

I was dreaming. In a hazy sort of way, I understood that, but didn’t jolt myself awake. I recognized the fall afternoon, the golden wisps of memory, and I didn’t want to leave it. I was with my husband and daughter. We were together, and we were happy.

In my dream/memory, Sophie is five years old, her dark hair pulled into a stubby ponytail beneath her helmet as she rides her pink bike with big white training wheels through the neighborhood park. Brian and I trail behind her, holding hands. Brian’s face is relaxed, his shoulders down. It’s a beautiful fall day in Boston, the sun is out, the leaves are bright copper, and life is good.

Sophie comes to the top of a hill. She waits for us to catch up, wanting an audience. Then, with a squeal, she kicks off against the pavement and sails her bike down the small incline, pedaling madly for maximum speed.

I shake my head at my daughter’s madcap ways. Never mind that my stomach clenched the moment she took off. I know better than to let anything show on my face. My nervousness only encourages her, “scaring Mommy” a favorite game both she and Brian like to play.

“I want to go faster!” Sophie announces at the bottom.

“Find a bigger hill,” Brian says.

I roll my eyes at both of them. “That was plenty fast, thank you very much.”

“I want to take off my training wheels.”

I pause, do a little double take. “You want to remove your training wheels?”

“Yes.” Sophie is adamant. “I want to ride like a big girl. On two wheels. Then I’ll be faster.”

I’m not sure what I think. When did I lose my training wheels? Five, six, I don’t remember. Probably sooner versus later. I was always a tomboy. How can I blame Sophie for sharing the same trait?

Brian is already beside Sophie’s bike, checking out the setup.

“Gonna need tools,” he declares, and that quickly, it’s settled. Brian trots home for a set of wrenches, Sophie bounds around the park, announcing to all strangers and at least half a dozen squirrels that she’s going to ride on two wheels. Everyone is impressed, particularly the squirrels, who chatter at her, before scampering up trees.