“What gets you up in the morning?”
“The job,” Lich answered, wiping the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “It’s the one thing that I have done well in my life most of the time. I get up and I go to work and I try to help people. Like today, we brought some closure to Gordon Oliver’s mother, that’s no small thing.”
“No, I suppose it’s not.”
“No it’s not. It matters, Mac. What we do matters. It’s something that didn’t seem to dawn on your wife, or soon to be ex-wife, but what we do makes a difference. And let me tell you one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re a good cop, Mac. Very good.”
“Thanks, partner.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lich responded, taking a big swig of his beer. “When I was assigned to work with you, the captain thought you needed a veteran hand to guide you through the work. From what I’ve seen, the apple didn’t fall far from the Simon McRyan tree. So if I were to impart any guidance on you, it wouldn’t be about police work.”
“What would it be about?”
“Get healed. Get yourself some casual tail, put some murderers in the can and make a difference. And in time,” Lich held his bottle out towards Mac in a toast, “you will find a woman worthy of Michael McKenzie ‘Mac’ McRyan.”
Mac smiled and clinked bottles with Lich, “I’ll drink to that.”