InSight

next week or the week after. We’re going to the beach.”
    “We are?”
    Luke hooked Daisy to her harness and threw Abby’s jacket over her shoulder.
    “Yup. I’ll rent the same place in Cherry Grove I told you about. I asked them to hold both weeks open for a few days until we decide. It’s beautiful and peaceful.”
    “I’ll take your word for the beautiful, and after the last few months, ‘peaceful’ will be a welcome change of pace.”
    “They need someone in two weeks at the forensics lab while Lieutenant Harris takes his vacation. I’ve been hanging around there enough to fill in. As long as there’s a secretary to answer the phone, I can handle the work.”
    “Okay. Cleo said she’d be back Monday. Thank God she’ll be fine. I’ll have her clear my schedule. Ellie can handle any emergency while I’m away.”
    “Ellie?”
    “She’s joining me part-time at first, to see how it works out.”
    “Great idea. She’ll give you some breathing room. You’ve been working too much.”
    “It’s hard to let go of the reins, even a little bit.” Abby’s confession acknowledged her control-freak nature.
    “It’s time. You won’t be any good to anyone if you work yourself to death.” He squeezed her hand. “Especially me.”
    “I know you’re right.” She hesitated. “Any emails from Norm?”
    “Not recently. Why?”
    “He called yesterday?”
    “What about?”
    “When the police went into the private wing in Scanlon’s hospital where they kept Stewart, they found a room filled with his paintings. Hundreds of them. Mostly of Macy and me. He’d tucked a will on the back of one of the portraits of Macy, leaving everything to me. I called Stewart’s agent. Of course he rushed to Charleston , dollar signs adding up in his greedy little brain. When he called back, he said the paintings were some of Stewart’s best work. Extraordinary, he said. The work of a great artist coming full circle.” Abby didn’t say anything for a minute. “It broke my heart. Stewart confined like some Gulag prisoner, juiced up on drugs, painting to ease his conscience, as if putting it on canvas would resurrect the lives he took.”
    “I’m sorry, Abby. I know how hard this is for you.”
    “You know, I didn’t care a whit about Stewart’s money when I married him, but now it’s mine, whether I want it or not. And so are the paintings. His agent said they’re worth millions. He suggested an exhibit. Not all at once, maybe a dozen or two at a time, keeping a tight rein on their circulation. If I know him, he’ll milk them for all they’re worth. At thirty percent, he’ll be able to retire to the South of France. But I’ll use the rest to do some good.”
    “What did you have in mind?”
    “Research into the effects of drugs on the brain, a scholarship in Macy’s name for blind students to go to college. Something like that. I haven’t had time to think it through, but Stewart painted those canvases with his soul. I want them to mean something. I’ll get professional advice to make sure it’s done right, but that’s what’s been rolling around in my brain. What do you think?”
    Luke leaned over and planted a hard kiss on her lips. “I’m in awe of you.”
    “Damn you.” She laughed and pummeled his stomach with balled-up fists. “Awe? I thought we had that word deleted from your vocabulary.”
    He grabbed her hands. “That was a test. You passed. Seriously, those are both great ideas. It can’t erase the past, but it might change a few lives in the future.”
    “I knew you’d see it that way.”
    “Are you up for a run tonight?”
    “Absolutely. We haven’t gone for a while.”
    “We’ll go by your house so you can change, then I want to run by mine to pick up some fresh clothes and my running shoes. I’m doing the whole five miles today. What do you think of that?”
    “I think you’re ready.”
    “Oh, by the way. I forgot to tell you. I have an appointment with another specialist about a cochlear implant. He’s going to do some more tests. Even if he thinks the surgery will work, he cautioned me against thinking I’d be able to hear like before. It’s not a panacea, but I might be able to hear over the phone. It takes a lot of therapy to adapt to the new sounds, but if he agrees I’m a candidate, I’m willing to go through with it. Of course, he may conclude I’m not a candidate. The tests will tell.”
    “I’m glad, Luke. Give yourself every chance. That’s