In the squad car Guin brushed her hands off and wiped the last crumbs from her frozen burrito off her lap. She took a sip of water and glanced in Cheryl’s direction.

“Sorry about the Quickie Mart cuisine,” she apologized. “I really wanted to check on my grandmother. She took a good spill yesterday. Banged her face up pretty good.”

“No worries, hon.” Cheryl was no worse for wear and it showed. She smiled, dusted her lap and chucked the wrappers into a brown sack. Guin watched as her partner dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin then slathered sheer lip tint over them. She rubbed them together, made a kissing face and turned to Guin. “Wanna try it out? It’s cotton candy.”

Guin almost blushed. “My favorite.”

“Is it?”

“It is now.”

They kissed and when their lips parted, Cheryl whispered, “Lunch was fine. Dinner will be better.”

“Jesus, you’re going to kill me, I swear…” Guin chuckled, looked down at her clasped hands. With some reluctance, she started the car and drove out of the convenience store parking lot. “Let’s finish this day then, already.”

On cue, the radio rattled out a trespassing, possible breaking and entering code. On came the lights, another U-turn, and the women were officially back on duty.

The location they’d been dispatched to wasn’t far from their lunch stop. An eerie feeling settled in the middle of Guin’s chest, and she wondered if it pertained to something wonderful, like dinner where no one would eat, or if it was something else.

She looked sideways at Cheryl; saw how the sunlight illuminated her features just as it had yesterday in her bedroom. It struck her that Cheryl was too good for this world, too vulnerable. It also occurred to Guin that she was taking advantage of her partner’s genuineness. Cheryl had a husband and children. She didn’t need someone coming along and wrecking it all.

Guin’s throat felt tight. She pulled curbside a few numbers down from their destination, they got out and started toward the driveway. Shouts and screams had them hurriedly rerouting toward the backyard. Both women drew their weapons. Cheryl stood flush against the garage that divided the front and back yards and turned to Guin.

“Call for backup.” At the sound of smashing glass Cheryl raised her gun. “I’m going to check that out.”

“I’ll cover you.”

“No. Call for backup,” Cheryl ordered.

No matter what they were to each other personally, Cheryl was her superior. She watched her partner slide along the backside of the garage and moved away from her and flipped on her radio.

“Unit fifty-four, on location twenty-nine hundred block of Banner Avenue. Possible four-fifteen, requesting backup.”

The dispatcher made the speedy announcement. “Requesting all area units for backup, twenty-nine hundred block of Banner Avenue for a possible four-fifteen. Unit fifty-four on the scene.”

Guin hurriedly turned the volume of her radio down, slid alongside the garage on the same route Cheryl had taken, despite her order to stay behind. Only the sound of distant traffic could be heard; everything was still. She crept closer to the edge of the building, but still couldn’t see her partner. She spoke softly into her radio. “Sergeant Jones, do you copy?”

There was no answer. Guin dropped her head against the garage wall, sighed.

“Hurry on that backup,” she muttered under her breath.

As if it was a premonitory statement, two shots rang out. Guin’s eyes went wide. She grabbed her mic, hollered, “Shots fired! Shots fired! Requesting immediate assistance! Where’s my backup!”

Guin rounded the corner, still bellowing into her radio. “Sergeant Jones, do you copy?” No answer. She scanned the yard. Then she saw Cheryl lying on the lawn. Motionless.