Kent shook his head, looking at Julian with a blend of professional respect and quiet awe. “I didn’t pull half as many strings as your friends at Quantico did, Julian. I’ve been on the force for twenty-eight years, and I’ve never seen federal task forces move that fast on a regional gang. You’ve got some loyal people out there.”
“Marines take care of their own,” Julian said simply.
“That they do,” Kent agreed, standing up and buttoning his jacket. He looked over at Evelyn, his expression softening. “Take care of yourself, Miss Vance. You’ve got a hell of a father.”
“I know,” Evelyn smiled warmly. “I really do.”
After Detective Kent drove away, the porch settled back into its peaceful, quiet rhythm. The sun began to dip below the tree line, painting the sky in deep shades of amber, violet, and crimson.
Evelyn stood up, stretching her arms before heading inside to help Eleanor prepare dinner. But before she crossed the threshold, she turned back to look at her father, who was standing by the railing, staring out over the quiet suburban neighborhood.
