Written in Stone (A Books by the Bay Mystery)

wrote a note on his chart.
    “Not patriotic,” Olivia said. “Psychotic.”
    This got the EMT’s attention. He was about to pop a thermometer under her tongue but he paused, his hand in midair. “I heard that he killed people. Is that true?”
    “Yes.”
    “Man, I hope the sheriff and your chief will make sure he’s put away for a long time,” he said.
    “Me too,” she said and opened her mouth to receive the thermometer.
    After taking her temperature, the paramedic jotted down a few more notes. He let her close her eyes and they rode the rest of the way in silence.
    My chief.
Olivia repeated the paramedic’s words to herself. She liked the sound of it.
    As the road passed beneath the ambulance, Olivia pictured the man she loved, the man with the salt-and-pepper hair, the strong hands, and the pond green eyes. She knew that he was already back on the job, probably striding down a corridor at the sheriff’s office, a cup of coffee in his hand, preparing to sit in on an interview with a murderer. He would work tirelessly until justice was achieved for Judson’s victims. He would work until he had what he needed to put the killer away.
    And then he would come to her.
    I will always come for you,
he had said.
    Her chief. The only man who dared to claim her.
    Olivia thought about time. She thought about how Judson had used it to exact his twisted revenge. How she had wasted so much of it nursing the pain of her past, by barricading herself behind a wall of loneliness. How it had taken half a lifetime for her to find love.
    Better late than never,
she thought as the ambulance pulled to a stop in front of the emergency room. The EMT opened the rear doors and light flooded in, the dust motes dancing in the sunbeams like millions of tiny stars.

Chapter 19
    Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.
    —J OHN L OCKE
    C ourtesy of the wooden eagle, Olivia received nine stitches and, much to her annoyance, was forced to remain overnight for observation. To her surprise, she curled up in her hospital bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and awoke feeling refreshed and remarkably clearheaded. By the time her nurse’s shift ended at seven the next morning, Olivia was demanding her discharge paperwork.
    As she filled out countless forms, her cell phone rang and she scooped it up with unusual eagerness. She’d had no luck getting through to Rawlings last night and was concerned about both the case and Haviland’s well-being.
    “Are you on the beach?” Dixie demanded tersely. “I already tried calling your house.”
    The breathless quality to Dixie’s voice was unsettling. “What’s going on?” Olivia asked.
    “The spittin’ image of Willie Wade is at my window booth, that’s what!” Dixie exclaimed. “Ordered eggs and sausage calm as you please and is sittin’ there readin’ the paper like he was king of the universe.”
    “Keep him there, Dixie. I need to talk to him.”
    Dixie spluttered, “But why? Who is he?”
    “I think he’s my father’s twin brother. Will you tell him who I am and that I’d like him to wait for me at the diner? I have to call a cab and it’ll take me at least thirty minutes to get back to Oyster Bay.”
    “Where in God’s green earth are you?”
    Olivia sighed. She didn’t want to provide Dixie with a lengthy explanation right now. “In the hospital. I had a concussion but I’m okay. I promise to tell you what I can when I get there.”
    “What you can?” Dixie scoffed. “That means I’ll get next to nothin’ out of you.” She tried to sound disgruntled, but she was too excited to be convincing. “Ah well, I suppose I’ll have to amuse myself by grillin’ the doppelganger wavin’ his coffee cup in the air like it’s gonna be refilled by a troupe of flyin’ fairies.”
    Olivia laughed and said good-bye. She’d just dropped the phone back into her purse when she looked up to find Laurel and Harris standing in the doorway. Laurel was carrying a beautiful arrangement of orange and yellow lilies in one hand and a glass vase in the other.
    “Why are you dressed?” she asked, nonplussed. “We brought you flowers.”
    “They’re gorgeous,” Olivia said, smiling. “It’s so good to see you both. How’s Millay? What’s going on with the investigation? Have you talked to Rawlings?”
    Harris held up his hand. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. First of all, are you cleared to leave? Millay said you got whacked