In silence, Dez remained leaning against the door, her heart beating fast.

Tired hazel eyes looked over at her. "It was totally an accident on the last run of the day. All I was supposed to do was accelerate to catch up with the other vehicle and use my left front quarter panel to tap its right rear and send him out of control. Guy named Davison was driving the tank - it’s like a tank, you know, since they’re the vehicle that is supposed to go out of control."

Dez nodded. She remembered exactly what it was like from the last training she had attended.

"The car I was in was pretty much like a regular squad car, though it did have a nice roll bar and some extra internal reinforcement - which, as it turns out, was lucky. Anyway, I was cruising along, drawing close to him, going about 45, when suddenly I heard a pop and my car - well, it kind of like dipped, and I skidded. I was fishtailing and losing control, so I hit the brakes. I spun out."

"And?"

"I ran off the flat area onto the side of the course."

"What the hell caused it? You blew a tire?"

The blonde nodded. "Somebody left a string of stop sticks real close to the side of the course, and I hit one. They told me that when my tire punctured, they saw a poof of dirt go up, then I started skidding."

"Weren’t you in your protective gear?"

"Oh yeah! Of course. Helmets, vest, and everything"

"But the steering wheel hit you hard - or what?"

"No." Jaylynn shook her head and looked away. "It was the tree."

"What? You hit a tree?"

"Dez! You make it sound like I’m a rotten driver or something! The instructor said I did an admirable job steering out of the spin and bringing the car to a stop."

"You slammed into a tree?"

"No . . . not exactly. Actually it was just the one big branch that came in through the driver’s side window."

"Oh, I see. So you didn’t hit the tree - it hit you?"

"Something like that. But don’t worry, I had already passed the driving class before the final runs, so I don’t have to go again for two years."

"Like I give a shit whether you pass pursuit training?" It came out in a shout, and Dez straightened up and pushed away from the door she was leaning on. "You’re hurt, Jay! You could have been killed."

"Nuh uh! No way! It was just - just an accident. Kind of a freak thing. Davison joked that it would have been better to have the branch smack me in the head instead of the chest since I had that great helmet on."

"For cripesake! The guy must be an idiot! Who the hell do they have running training these days!" She clenched her fists against her hips as she worked hard to contain her fury.

Jaylynn turned red and looked like she might cry. "Why are you so angry, Dez? Stuff like this happens. One cop from Faribault actually rolled one of the cars . . . he didn’t get hurt though."

Dez shook her head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then made herself relax her fists. Opening her eyes, she stepped into the middle of the bedroom, square in the center of the braided carpet. Her hands were cold, and when she looked down at them, she was surprised to see that she wasn’t outwardly shaking. Inside, her heart was pounding and she suddenly found she could hardly breathe. The images in her head frightened her: blood and darkness, bright lights, and screaming sirens.

There was no way to communicate the feelings of terror - not without sounding like a three-year-old. She looked at the worried hazel eyes peering up at her from the couch, eyes in a face that looked afraid and hurt. Taking a deep breath, she moved over to the couch, put one knee on a cushion and lowered herself onto it, her other long leg still planted on floor next to the sofa. In a gentle voice, she said, "Let me see - are you in a cast or splint?"

Jaylynn shook her head. "No - I’m just dinged up a little so I have to use this support." With her right hand she unbuttoned her blouse and shifted the heavy canvas sling to the side. She flinched as she moved her arm and the sling. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, ragged breath. "Hurts like hell."

Dez nodded.

Jaylynn pulled her blouse open. Peering down, she missed the horrified expression on Dez’s face and didn’t look up until the dark-haired woman sank down beside her on the couch.

"Jesus, Jay . . . that looks terrible."

All around the collarbone, the skin was blue and purple with bruising, and a jagged two inch gash was held together by three butterfly bandaids. It was swollen and puffy.

The blonde shook her head slowly, and Dez had to restrain herself from taking the smaller woman into her arms. The dark-haired woman sighed. "I don’t even know how to touch you without hurting you."

With that, Jaylynn teared up. "I know - I know, and it’s all my fault." A tear rolled down her cheek. Dez reached over and wiped it away. "I can’t even button up my shirt by myself," she said, her voice cracking.

The tall woman scooted over right next to her. "Oh, Jay…it’s not really your fault." She started with the lowest button and worked her way up, careful not to touch anything but the cotton material and the little white buttons. "Looks like you’re going to be wearing shirts like this for a couple of weeks."

The rookie nodded in agreement. She sniffed. "I can’t put my arms over my head. It hurts to turn my head quickly. I can’t even blow my own nose very well." She shifted her arm back in front of her, looking forlorn and pained.

"Bet you don’t do all that well with your Aikuchi knife for a while either."

Jaylynn smiled through her tears. "Dez, I just want you to hold me."

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "Okay." She shifted back against the sofa cushion and put both feet flat on the floor and her arms up along the back of the couch. "Arrange me how you want me - just so I don’t hurt you."

The blonde stood and went to Dez’s left side and sat next to her. She brought her legs up on the couch off to the left side and leaned into the bigger woman’s chest, cradling her sore left arm carefully. Once the smaller woman got settled, Dez brought her left arm around her shoulders. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine." The blonde snuggled in close, the side of her face pressed against the flannel of the big woman’s shirt.

They sat quietly for a moment until Dez suddenly sighed.

"What was that for?"

"I suppose I’m stuck doing that damn DARE class by myself again."

"Ohhh . . . never thought of that." She grinned. "Those kids like you. You’ll do fine." She began to giggle. "It’s kind of funny, you know. They listen to me, but they’re transfixed by you. You’ll have a captive audience."

"Yeah, right," she grumbled. In an irritated voice, she said, "How long before this will heal? And how long will you be off work?"

"Two to three weeks. My own doctor will be able to tell more when the swelling goes down. I stopped to see Lieutenant Malcolm, and he said I’m on desk duty starting tomorrow night."

"That’ll be fun," Dez said, the sarcasm in her voice evident.

"I’m sure there’s something I can do to help."

"Yeah, coffee patrol, sorting, filing, phone messages, and the like. It’ll be very stimulating." She chuckled and shook her head, then after a moment, felt a cold chill pass over her. She wanted to speak her mind, tell Jaylynn that she didn’t think the younger woman was cut out to be a cop. Ninety-nine percent of the time, she thought the rookie handled things just fine, but her small, slender stature was a distinct disadvantage. It was too easy for her to get hurt. Am I just being sexist, she wondered? Or sizeist? Half of the women on the force were Jaylynn’s size, maybe only slightly bigger or taller. The rookie had smarts, that was for sure, and she had determination, but still, Dez couldn’t help but feel constant apprehension, especially when they rode separately. More than ever, she decided that it was important that the two of them continue as partners, otherwise, who could she trust? There were few officers she had total faith in - and even then, errors and mistakes could happen. She couldn’t stand to see anything more happen to this miraculous person who was now drowsing against her chest.

* * *

Jaylynn looked down at the last two reports on the desk. Once she filed them away, she was all caught up with every single task she had been assigned. The only thing good about being on desk duty was that she didn’t have to carry every single item on her duty belt - just her weapon and cuffs. The difference in weight was amazing. She filed the second to the last report and thought about how it was going to be a very long night. Dez had been so right. After three days, the rookie had to admit that light duty was no fun. She ran out of computer updating to do after the last shift. With only one good hand, she couldn’t do any variety of tasks, and now that she had organized, sorted, filed, tidied, and cleaned up everything within sight, there wasn’t anything further to do, except wait to answer the phone, which, tonight, was just not ringing. Sunday nights were usually a crashing bore. Nearly two more hours to kill.

She let out a sigh just as Lt. Malcolm came into the room.

"Hey, Savage. You’ve got things looking pretty good around here."

She smiled at her superior. "Thank you, sir." She liked him a lot. He was always respectful, always calm, even when other officers were in serious trouble or had done something stupid beyond compare. So far, she had received only praise and constructive criticism from him, never any sort of reproof, despite the fact that in her less than a year with the department, she had been involved in a shooting, several physical tussles with suspects on the beat, a fire, and now a training accident. This was the first time she’d had to be taken off patrol though.

The gray-eyed man hitched up his trousers and swung a thigh up onto the edge of the desk, sitting comfortably half on and half off. "How long before you get released for duty?"

Jaylynn opened and closed her left hand, flexing the forearm muscles. She still couldn’t move her arm away from her torso without pain. "Couple weeks, Lieutenant."

He nodded. "That’s what I thought. I can’t keep you busy, Savage. Unless you have an objection, I am going to reassign you to Lieutenant Finn over at the main station."

"Oh?" She was surprised. "What will I do there?"

"It’s a lot busier, for one thing. Besides doing some phone detail, Finn can assign you to something, maybe an active case or two, maybe some follow-up on citizen complaints. I’m not sure what she’ll want you to do, but I guarantee it’ll be a lot more interesting than this." He gestured out at the empty room.

"I haven’t minded, Lieutenant, really."

He smiled. "I know. But you’ll start minding pretty quick when there’s absolutely nothing to work on at all." He laughed and said, "I couldn’t even assign you to paint the lockers. I just had Cameron do that when he broke his foot." He stood. "I’ll get you back over here once you’re healed up, okay?"

"Okay."

"You’re to report to Lieutenant Denise Finn tomorrow at two. Your hours are going to change for the next couple weeks - two to eleven, Monday through Friday. You ever meet Finn?"

"No, sir."

"She’s a good leader. You’ll like her. Just follow her instructions, and you’ll get along great with her."

"Okay, thanks. Sorry about this, Lieutenant. I know this leaves you short."

"We’ll get by. Reilly and Patterson both said they’d pick up a couple extra shifts, and I can move people around. We’ll be all right through the end of the month." He stepped away, then turned back. "You want some coffee or something, Savage?"

"No, thank you." She gestured at a thermos on the desk. "I’m drinking tea right now."

He gave a curt nod and strode out into the quiet hall. She watched him leave, wondering how old he was. He reminded her a little of her stepfather - the light colored eyes, the calmness, the gentle disposition. But he was no softie. She had seen him upset, stern, eyes flashing, and being very direct with his officers. He was not someone she would want to disappoint either. Somehow, he had a way of making her want to do her very best, and she liked that about him. She respected the three sergeants who rotated on and off her shift, but she didn’t feel that they cared quite as much about her well-being or her professional progress.

The phone rang, and as she picked it up, she looked at her watch. Nearly ten thirty. She hoped this call would keep her busy for a long time.

* * *

Lieutenant Denise Finn was a solidly compact brunette who wore her dark blue pant suit and jacket well. Her shoulder length hair was swept off her forehead and held back by metal combs. She wore a rock of a wedding ring on her left hand. Jaylynn had already been clued in that Lt. Finn was married to a police captain who worked at the Minneapolis Police Department, and that one of her four children was a rookie on the Duluth force north of the Cities. Finn didn’t look old enough to have an adult son. Jaylynn guessed the attractive woman’s age to be less than 45, but she figured she was wrong.

The brunette crossed the room with quick steps and stuck her hand out. "Savage. Good to meet you. I’ve heard good things about you from Culpepper."