James Patterson - 10th Anniversary

Cindy was speechless and trembling as she and Rich walked up the steps, through the open doors, and across the inscribed limestone labyrinth that was thirty-five feet across.

As she entered the nave, Cindy’s eyes were drawn upward to the stained-glass windows and then along the murals that led from the back of the church to the altar.

Cindy was dazzled.

She didn’t know what it was, but something momentous was about to happen.

RICH’S HEART POUNDED as he walked with Cindy down the center aisle of Grace Cathedral, awestruck as he always was by the monumental vaulted ceiling and the gold crucifix behind the altar.

Cindy was squeezing the circulation out of his hand, staring up at him, searching his face, speechless for the first time since he’d met her.

She started to ask, “What’s go —?” but her foot turned and her high heels started to go out from under her. Rich had his hand under her elbow and at the small of her back. He caught her before she went down and smiled at her. He felt a laugh fighting to get free.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” he said.

“Clearly not,” she said.

The altar seemed a mile away down the aisle flanked with hundreds of rows of mostly empty pews. Rich felt his heart knocking against his ribs. His mouth was dry. And he never felt more certain of anything in his life.

Images of Cindy blew through his mind: the first time he’d seen her with Lindsay, all big eyes and questions, the way her slightly overlapping front teeth made her smile so cute, an endless source of delight. And the way she looked now, her endearing face framed by all those blond curls.

His Cindy. The woman he knew so very well.

He flashed on the time she’d been a virtual third cop on their team, when he and Lindsay were working the string of homicides in the apartment building where Cindy lived at the time.

He’d learned a lot about her then.

How steadfast she was when facing danger. How hard she pushed herself forward when she was afraid. He admired her so much for those qualities.

But they made him worry about her, too.

And then they were at the altar.

The deacon smiled, very nearly winked, and then disappeared into the shadows — and they were alone.

“Who are we meeting here?” Cindy asked softly.

“I’m hoping he’s your future husband, Cin. What would you think of getting married right here?”

“Is that a proposal, Richie?”

Richie dropped to one knee. He said, “Cindy. If I know anything, it is that you are the love of my life. I want to spend the rest of my years getting to know you and love you even more than I do now. Will you marry me?”

He pulled the little velvet box from his jacket pocket and opened the lid. His mother’s solitaire diamond engagement ring lay inside. She had given it to him, saying, “Someday you’ll give this to a very special woman.”

Cindy stared at the ring, then back at him.

“I guess so,” she said.

Then she laughed, stuck out her ring finger, which was shaking so hard that, with his hand shaking, too, it was truly a triumph that Rich got the ring in place.

“Our first hurdle,” he said.

“How did you get to be so funny?” she said, pulling him to his feet, going into his strong arms, and speaking right next to his ear.

“Listen. This is the real deal and it’s on the record. I love you to death. I am honored to be your one true wife.”

Conklin said to his bride to be, “You had that all ready to go, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did,” Cindy said. “Because that’s how I really feel about you, Richie.”

“Thanks for saying yes,” he said, hugging her right off the floor. They kissed and the jewelry box clattered to the marble floor. Parishioners sitting in the front rows applauded, a sound that echoed like doves’ wings beating overhead.

JOE WAS ON A BUSINESS TRIP, inspecting the port in L.A., and he hadn’t been sure when he’d be home.

I ran with Martha down Lake Street from the Temple Emanu-El to Sea Cliff and back, my eyes locking on dark-colored sedans. I thought about Avis Richardson’s baby all the way. I couldn’t help myself, and after three miles of checking cars and beating the pavement with my Adidas, I was done.

Our apartment was dark when I walked in breathless and soaked with sweat.

I switched on some lights, showered, poured myself a glass of chardonnay, and then got busy in the kitchen. I decanted some doggy beef stew for Martha, filled up her water bowl, and turned on the TV. Chris Matthews was doing the Politics Fix segment of his show while I heated up the jambalaya that Joe had cooked a few days before. And then the phone rang.

The phone always rang.

A month back, I’d made the decision not to answer the phone — neither our landline nor my cell. In so doing, I had missed a phone call that could have changed my life.

Jacobi had called — four times, in fact — to offer me the lieutenant’s job he was leaving by moving up to captain. By the time I finally spoke with him, the job had been tentatively offered to Brady. I thought it was a sign that Brady should take the job.

That was okay with me. I liked the hands-on job of being a homicide cop. It was exhausting, and you could never put it down, not even for a night, but like for my father before me, working the street was my calling.

Jackson Brady, on the other hand, was ambitious. He had a history as a good cop, and I knew he was the future of the SFPD.

I’d done the right thing in stepping aside, but I was a little more careful these days to answer ringing phones.

The cordless on the kitchen counter was beginning its third ring. I peered at the caller ID. It was Cindy, so I snatched the receiver off its base.

“ I’m getting married ,” Cindy yelled into my ear.

“What? What did you say?”

“We’re getting married . Richie and me. He just proposed .”

“Oh my God. That’s fantastic ,” I said, feeling some conflict between whoo-hooo and a fear of Cindy getting too much off-the-record information every night from my partner.

Plus, I had liked being number one on Richie’s speed dial.

That selfish thought faded as Cindy jabbered away into the phone about Richie’s bended-knee proposal at the Grace Cathedral, the diamond ring, and the happiness that was giving her heart flight.

“It’s wonderful, Cin. Let me congratulate Rich.”

“He’s on with his dad. I’ll tell him to call you. Oh, I’m getting incoming,” she said. “My mom is calling me back.”

“Go ahead, Cindy. I’m so happy for you both.”

I switched the channel to a ball game and watched the home team slaughter the visitors as I ate my dinner. Then the telephone rang again.

It was Yuki. What now?

“Linds, am I catching you at a bad time?”

Yuki had been stiff with me since I’d told her about my interview with Candace Martin two days ago. I was hoping that maybe this call would be a break in the cloud cover.

“It’s fine,” I said. “This is a good time.”

“I was going to tell you something the other day, but we got sidetracked. I don’t know how you’re going to take this, Linds.”

“Yuki, there’s nothing you can’t tell me,” I said.

“Okay. Uh. It’s about Brady.”

“What about him?”

“He asked me out. I went out to dinner with him. Twice. It went well. So, uh … we’re dating.”

I stopped breathing and just held the receiver hard to my ear, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

“Linds?”

“ Jackson Brady? You’re kidding me. Say you’re joking.”

“I really like him, Linds. I just wanted you to hear it from me.”