If it hadn’t been so dark out, Dez was sure she would have clearly been able to see Nielsen’s face blanch.

“Bullshit!” His voice rasped, but she noticed that he kept it down. He glanced back over his shoulder to see Alvarez still busy with the boys, then stepped closer to Dez. He pointed his index finger at her jacket and punctuated his next sentence by nearly touching her with every syllable. “You. Lying. Bitch!”

She grinned and nodded. “I’m so sad that you don’t believe me - a reliable FTO who’s done everything to give you a fair shake. Why don’t you ask around, you poor sweet thing? I am sure some of the old timers will have many choice words for ya.”

Now he got in her face, stabbing his finger viciously, nearly poking her in the eye. “I should’ve filed a complaint against you before!”

She leaned away from him, letting her hands drop to her sides and casually taking a stronger stance, feet apart with one foot slightly ahead of the other. “You mean back when you were going around beating up on small women who weigh about a hundred pounds less than you?”

“That’s right,” he snarled, little bits of spit flying from his lips.

She backed up and to the side, off the sidewalk and into the gravel of the parking lot. “You know what? You’re disgusting. Totally revolting. A poor excuse for a human being.”

He started to turn away, making a motion with his hands like he was shooing her off. She laughed out loud and said, “Once a weasel, always a weasel.”

Over his shoulder he said, “Fuck you.”

In a mocking tone, she sneered, “I didn’t know you were that kinda fella.”

With a snarl of rage, he whirled around and rushed her, his big hands forceful against the front of her bulletproof vest. She couldn’t help but grin, and her laughter further enraged him. He shoved her again, and she let herself be driven back two steps. As he gathered his hands to push her a third time, she stepped to the side, then moved in close, bringing her knee up squarely into his groin.

Instead of slowing him down, this infuriated him. With a bellow, he took a wild swing at her, which she ducked under. She tried to step around him, but he got hold of her gun belt, which pulled her off balance so that she stumbled.

From a distance she heard Alvarez shouting. “Hey! Cut it out!”

She spun, slipping out of Nielsen’s grasp, and with unerring accuracy mashed her right fist into his face. Instant blood. By then Alvarez was there, shouting, “Stop it! Stop it!” and pulling his partner away.

Dez shook her hand out, relaxing and tensing her fingers. She figured she was going to have bruises on her knuckles, but as far as she was concerned, it was well worth it. Only one punch, but hey! It was something, wasn’t it?

* * *

Dez had no idea about any problems until the end of her shift. She signed out and headed for the locker room only to have Sgt. Belton buttonhole her to tell her the Lieutenant wanted to see her.

She reversed course, went back up the stairs, and to Lt. Malcolm’s office. When she tapped on the doorframe, he was standing with his back to her. “Lieutenant, you wanted to see me?”

He turned to face her, his face livid. She hadn’t seen him upset like this in quite some time, perhaps not since last summer when she had gone alone without backup into a now familiar house near Como Lake where an assault was in progress. He hadn’t been this upset when he had found out about her relationship with Jaylynn - disappointed, yes - but he hadn’t been angry. Now his voice was curt, and she knew something was up. “Reilly. Come with me. Got something to show you.”

He came around the desk and pushed past. Puzzled, she followed him as he led her out into one of the work rooms down the hall from the roll call area. He picked up a remote control and pointed it at the TV set over in the corner, then popped a video into an attached VCR. Dez stood in the middle of the room next to piles of newspapers, file folders, and video cassettes marked with dates, times, and places. She waited as the fuzz on the screen turned into a recognizable picture. The lieutenant fast forwarded through a commercial, then hit the play button. He pressed the button to increase volume, and Dez heard one of the local TV newscasters. She recognized the woman but didn’t know her name.

“Citizens often wonder and worry about police brutality, and occasionally, we newscasters can’t help but wonder ourselves, especially when faced with the evidence that officers on the St. Paul Police Force can’t even get along with each other.”

The camera cut to a hazy and dark scene, but it was instantly identifiable to Dez. Two figures stood about thirty feet from a remote camera, which was likely perched beneath the rafters at the Tora Tora Bar on University. The broken glass in the gravel of the vacant lot glittered in the moonlight, giving the picture a shimmery fluidity. Dez watched with a sinking feeling as Nielsen shook his finger in her face, pushed her once, twice, and tried a third time. Her knee moved quickly, cat-like, though his body obscured the camera angle, but it was very clear then that he took a swing at her. She frowned. He looks pathetic. Terrible form for such a big guy. She looked almost balletic as she stepped around him - until he grabbed her belt, and then she was obviously off balance.

Alvarez’s back appeared on camera, large at first, then reducing in size, as he rushed toward them. One more step and he would partially obscure her jab… but no. There it was, clear as day on video. Nielsen’s head snapped back and he stumbled. Dez saw how she had brought her hand up, shaking it, but the grin on her face, even from thirty feet, was unmistakable. It was the same grin she currently sported and attempted to suppress.

Lt. Malcolm snapped the video off and hit rewind, then shut off the set. Tossing the remote on the table, he crossed his arms. In a voice filled with fury, he said, “You want to tell me what the hell that was all about, Reilly?”

Lt. Malcolm rarely swore, and the fact that he just had made Dez’s blood run cold. “What do you want to know, sir?”

“I want to know what that was all about.”

“Sir, I’d rather not say.” He glared at her. She met his gaze, then shrugged a little. “You might say I could have avoided it, Lieutenant, and that I’m at fault.”

“It’s pretty clear to me that he pushed you first and that you didn’t respond - at first. But the fact that you struck him..."  e put his hands on his hips and looked down at the floor, his bald head glistening.

“Yes, sir,” she said in a resigned voice. “You do what you have to do, ’cause you can bet that I’ll understand.”

“What is the problem with him and you?” When she didn’t answer, he looked down, ran his hand over his bald head. “Reilly… Reilly. Geez, what am I gonna do with you?” He stared at her. “You’re one of my best officers. You’ve got nearly a decade with the force. You’ve got so many talents, so much opportunity for advancement. One day you could be a lieutenant - or captain. Hell, you could be Chief for all I know! But lately… oh boy. Lately you’ve made some dumb choices.” She looked down at the floor and waited. He scratched the top of his head and sighed. “I’ll let you know tomorrow - or later in the week - I have to talk to Commander Paar and wait to see what the political fallout is.”

“Yes sir.”

“You know what really ticks me off?” She waited, not meeting his eyes. “I just put in a request for a commendation for you, and you can be pretty certain it’s going to wind up back on my desk with a great big red denial on it.” He let out a big sigh and slowly shook his head. “Go home, Reilly. And please, I beg you, stay out of trouble.” With a wisp of a smile on his face, he turned and headed for the door. Almost as an afterthought, he threw a final comment over his shoulder: “Remind me never to get in the way of your fist. I hear Nielsen’s got a deviated septum.”

She was glad he wasn’t looking because she wasn’t able to force back a grim smile of satisfaction.

* * *

The day following the altercation with Nielsen, the tall cop was in good spirits as she drove her squad car toward her special assignment. For the first three hours of her shift, she had been on regular patrol, but now she was headed downtown to join other officers who were working crowd control at a Saturday evening convention center event.

She’d already been quietly joshed by some of her fellow patrol officers about the previous day’s events. She was still surprised to learn how many of them despised Nielsen. She hid her amazement as officer after officer indicated support and faulted the hot-headed rookie for accosting her and for turning her and Jaylynn in to the brass. A couple of them said they had known about her and the blonde’s personal relationship for a while, and they would never have squawked to the bosses. She hadn’t expected that at all from so many of her peers. Not one person was negative, though a couple of cops were silent on the topic. The ones who did speak up didn’t seem to mind about her choice of lovers as much as they were incensed that the young upstart had ratted her out to the commanders. She thought about that for a little while, remembering how many years she had carefully guarded her personal life. Did I need to do that? She didn’t know. What she did know that there was quite a double standard for men and women. If she and Jaylynn had been male, she could bet they’d be ostracized. In her opinion, that was unconscionable. She knew there was no reason that a gay officer couldn’t and wouldn’t be just as good a cop as a straight guy - or a lesbian. I sure hope that changes some day. We desperately need young cops, and I don’t care if they are gay or straight, men or women, younger or older. We just need more good cops.

She turned her thoughts to the “special assignment” ahead of her. Even though crowd control details were ordinarily boring and tedious, she looked forward to this one because Jaylynn was already there, working at the River Centre for the entire shift. The International Food Fair ran from noon to midnight, and if years past were any indication, it promised to be a madhouse right up to the end. There were extra officers on duty inside, and she, Jaylynn, and two others would work the Kellogg Boulevard traffic posts. She didn’t think she had any worries about the rookie’s safety tonight. She figured the worst of her worries would be that Jaylynn would complain of the cold. It was down to twenty-eight degrees and dropping when they left home, and snow was in the forecast.

She pulled up to the River Center parking ramp, which was directly across from the convention center, and parked the cruiser in a No Parking zone behind another cop car. After updating dispatch, she emerged from comfortable warmth into crisp, damp air. Yup, snow is on the way. She grabbed her patrol jacket out of the back seat and shrugged it on. With her t-shirt, protective vest, and blue uniform shirt, she knew she would be plenty warm so long as she kept moving. She locked up, then stood for moment appraising the activity on the street. In the waning light, she could see people of all shapes, sizes, and colors scurrying across the wide boulevard, dodging cars, and slowing down traffic. Someone in a big white Dodge Ram honked his horn at two women in colorful African headdresses and bulky coats. They dragged two small children each by the hand, and another two young boys stumbled along behind them. As quickly as they disappeared into the center, ten more people emerged and wandered off the curb, over to the center island, and then across the other double lane to her side of the street.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. Someone is going to get hit here. Why don’t people cross at the lights - or even better, take the skywalk? How hard could that be? What idiots!

She scanned the street and located her fellow officers, Cheryl Pilcher to the east at the intersection of the boulevard and Seventh Street, Jaylynn in front of the entrance, and Crystal Lopez to the west. Well, whaddya know - an all-woman detail tonight. Now that’s unusual.

She stood on the curb at the crosswalk and waited for a string of cars on her side of the street, then strolled across to the twenty-foot wide center island. She waited again, and when the road was clear, she strode straight toward Jaylynn.

The rookie watched as the tall cop ambled her way, and she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. She was so glad to see Dez that if they hadn’t been in public and on duty, she would have hugged the dark-haired woman.

“Keepin’ warm, Jay?”

“So far, so good. How’s your night?”

“Really quiet. Nothing happening in sector two.”

Jaylynn nodded. “That’s because everyone in the city is here.” She sniffed the air. “Get a load of that smell! Every time someone opens the doors, I want to storm the place.”

“Take a break and go in. You could buy whatever you want, you know.”

“Ha. There’s over two hundred booths. I’d be in there snarfing down the food for so long that I’d get reprimanded. No, it’s just as well that we stay out here and do our jobs, so don’t tempt me. We’ve had a couple of scuffles so far.” Dez raised an eyebrow.  “You’d think that multi-cultural events would bring out the best in everyone - you know, peace, love, and international understanding.”

Dez crossed her arms. “What happened?”

“We have two groups of kids who seem to be at war, and there’ve been two minor run-ins so far.” The tall woman waited for more. “Four Asian youths came out about an hour ago followed by a pack of white kids, and they were exchanging words. I radioed to Crys and went over and yelled at ’em. The Asians took off, and the ones who were left gave me a little lip. For a minute there I thought I was going to have to pull out the baton, but finally I told them to beat it or I’d call their parents.”

“And they did?” An amused look came over Dez’s face.

“They were all of about thirteen years old, so yes, they took off in opposite directions before Crystal even got here.”

“Okay. What else?”

“Same scenario, only these kids were older - maybe seventeen or eighteen - and they were a lot more worked up. The officers inside herded them out and told them to split, but they stood out here and taunted one another until I put a stop to it.”

“Huh. They run when they got a look at you and your spanking baton?” She bit back a smile, and Jaylynn gave her a mock glare.

“Yes, that is exactly what they did, Miss Know-It-All. But Gentry and Kelvin, inside, say there is an awful lot of tension between the teens in there. Nobody’s flashing gang colors or anything, but still, they’re watching closely.”

“That’s good. We’ve got plenty of backup out on patrol tonight, so if anything goes down, we’re well covered. Now if we could just make sure that nobody gets run over by a car, we’ll have a good shift.” She turned to survey the area. “How about you get your whistle and baton, and stand right in the middle over there.” She pointed to a spot mid-point between the two crosswalks at either end of the block. “When people exit and start toward you intending to jaywalk, direct them to the crosswalks. I’ll go down by the corner there and stop traffic as needed.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, we’ll make sure there’s no Jay walking tonight.” She smiled broadly, her white teeth flashing in the diminishing light.

“Very funny.” The blonde reached over and smacked Dez on the upper arm with the flat of her hand.

* * *

The last of the light in the sky had long ago faded away, but with the streetlamps and the warm glow emitted by the convention center itself, the street and sidewalks were well-lit. Even the skywalk that ran from the second floor of the convention center over the street and to the parking ramp spilled light out and illuminated the boulevard. She stood for a moment and studied the square metal walkway stretched over the street above. The light inside gleamed dull gold through the thick plate glass windows. Bright red lettering on the outside of the skywalk spelled out River Centre, and the gold light reflected glossy orange rays off that lettering. Jaylynn looked around and thought everything appeared a little shiny and surreal. She tipped her head back and looked up at the sky, which was dark with no moon evident anywhere. She hated to admit it, but it smelled like snow. The air was heavy, and the cloud cover was so thick that she just knew snow would fall before morning. I just hope it waits until after midnight when my shift is over.

She pulled her coat sleeve up and pushed her glove down to look at her watch. 10:40. More people were straggling out of the River Centre than were entering, and the volume of new visitors had decreased in the last half hour or so. She shivered. Despite wearing fancy super-intensity thermal long underwear under her slacks, she was still cold. It didn’t help that she was in a patrol jacket that only came down to her waist, leaving her legs and rear end less protected from the elements.

She did a three hundred sixty degree turn and scanned the area. For the moment, nobody was coming or going, and for several more minutes, all was silent. At the west end of the street, Pilcher still stood, but Jaylynn could see her leaning against a lamppost, watching the few cars going by. To the east Crystal and Dez stood on the sidewalk talking. The rookie took a moment to readjust her belt. The only advantage to having gained a few pounds was that she had another inch or so at her waist for all the gear she had to carry. That was one of the things she liked the least about the job. It had taken her a while to get used to where her gear was and to decide what arrangement on the belt made the most sense for her. She liked to cross-draw her baton, and she was right handed, so the baton went on her left hip, and her Glock went on her right hip. Right in front of the gun, she kept her ASR - aerosol subject restraint, often called Mace. She liked to keep her handcuffs right behind her gun, with only a keeper in between to make sure that her holster stayed firmly in place. Along her back was her flashlight and radio holder. Lastly, in front of the baton and against her left hipbone was her double magazine holder, mounted upright.

Some cops liked to have their baton and their ASR on the left side and their gun on the right side, but the rookie’s personal theory was that it was unlikely that she would use more than one weapon at a time. She also recognized that she was limited severely by space issues. Good old Cal Braswell sure doesn’t have to deal with that! She reached behind her gun onto her hip, and there was the clasp for her cuffs. She flipped it up and snapped the cuffs into her hand. She felt most comfortable doing tactical handcuffing with her strong hand, and she doubted that she would ever cuff someone while holding her gun so it was perfect to keep those two items to the right.

She looked around her. Two women came out the River Centre door, hustled quickly to the crosswalk, and hurried across the street. Crystal and Dez didn’t pay any attention to them at all. The women disappeared into the parking ramp, and Jaylynn focused back on her gear. She pulled her flashlight off the left side of her belt and flicked it on. She used it so rarely, mostly on traffic stops at night and that was it. She kept it on her weak side because she wanted to be able to keep her gun hand free at all times on traffic stops. She was pleased with her familiarity with her equipment. She had everything set so that she could get out of the car and turn on her portable radio, then grab her light in one motion. It had become a habit, and she realized with satisfaction that the tools of the job were there, right where she expected, whenever she reached for them. Still, she disliked the amount of awkward gear arrayed around her waist.

Looking at her watch again, she began to pace. Ten steps east, turn, ten steps back. Occasionally a small group left the River Centre, laughing, carrying food in paper bags and Styrofoam containers, but nobody was crossing the street to enter the Food Fair. The party was definitely winding down.

Just when she was starting to think that perhaps they should call in and suggest knocking off for the night, she saw movement above her in the glass skywalk and stopped to stare. From her right and traveling across toward the ramp, three small men sprinted, followed by four bigger figures. The chasers caught up with the littler guys in the middle of the skywalk and all but two of the seven were suddenly in a pile. Jaylynn touched the button on her shoulder mike to call in the fight in progress, which also alerted her fellow officers.  s she sprinted across the street, she listened to Dispatch’s acknowledgment and the instructions for backup. Both Crystal’s and Dez’s voices came through the shoulder mike, and the rookie knew her buddies was right behind her.

She picked up her pace as she crossed over the center island. In the glowing light from the catwalk, she could see a scramble of arms and legs, fists and falling bodies. The back of a dark haired man slammed against the glass, and he slipped down. When she reached the other side of the street, she hit her shoulder mike and informed dispatch that there were seven subjects fighting.

Pilcher’s voice scratched over the radio indicating that she was moving into backup position, but the rookie couldn’t see her yet. Without waiting for the others to catch up, Jaylynn dashed toward the parking ramp’s flight of stairs up to the skyway. She hit the first of six stairs that led to heavy metal doors. Beyond them were thirty or more stairs up to the skywalk above which extended off to the right. Behind her she heard the rat-tat-tat of footfalls, and Dez called out, “Right behind ya.” She wrenched open the metal door and tore up the steps two at a time, hugging the wall on her right. Above, she heard shouting, grunting, and swearing, then a scream of pain.

Jaylynn reached the top three stairs, squatted down, and leaned out over the top step to look around the corner. She heard Crystal and Dez come through the door and hit the stairs below her but she focused on the same melee she had originally seen from below. She scanned the area for weapons but didn’t see any knives, guns, or sticks. One of the white kids looked knocked out or dead. He lay motionless on his side along the far window. She wasn’t sure, but there seemed to be blood on the floor near him.

She glanced behind when Dez and Crystal, breathing hard, caught up with her. Gentry and Kelvin were not yet in sight, but she knew they were on the way. Staying low, she went up the last three stairs with backup behind her. “Police, break it up!”

One of the small Asians, on the floor on his stomach, was squirming wildly while being pummeled from behind by a bigger white boy wearing jeans, a bulky jacket, and a backwards red baseball cap. The red-capped kid’s head shot up. He rolled away and got up to run in the other direction as did two of the other white kids. The remaining young men, on the floor and bleeding, stayed down.

Crystal shouted, “I’ve got ’em! You two, go!”

Pilcher made it to the top of the stairs as Jaylynn and Dez took off after the three runners, leaving Crystal to call in.

If the kids made it to the underground garage, Jaylynn figured they had a good chance of getting away through the parking exits, and once out on the street, they had a lot of options for escape. But just then, two of the three young men split to the right, toward glass doors leading into the convention center. Bad decision, thought the rookie. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two runners skid to a halt when Kelvin and Gentry came through the doors and apprehended them. She fumbled for her ASR. Because she slowed slightly, Dez passed her. With a good grip on the ASR can, she watched as the one remaining suspect hit the horizontal metal handle on the stairwell door ahead. As quick as he was through, Dez was behind him, with the rookie on her heels.

Dez leapt down the stairs two and three at a time. At the bottom of the first flight, Jaylynn leaned over the handrail and pointed her aerosol can down to the flight of stairs below. When she saw the red-capped man’s face, she shouted, “Dez! I’m gonna spray him!”

The canister in her hand made a “shhhkeeee” sound as she nailed the man in the face - and then he was through the trajectory of Mace and down to the next landing. Two beats passed, Dez still in pursuit, before they heard a gasp and then a wail. “Owww… get this shit off me!” She heard the sound of stumbling as she continued down the stairs, holding her breath. Dez was on him. With a jerk, she grabbed his coat collar and knocked him to the floor where he knelt gasping and coughing. After cuffing his hands behind his back, she opened the door on the landing and coughed a few times herself as Jaylynn descended the stairs. “Geez, Jay, thanks for the warning. I hate the that stuff.”

Even though Jaylynn was trying not to breathe any more than she had to, it still felt like pins and needles in her throat. “Yeah, me, too.”

The kneeling man choked out, “Me three.”

Dez stayed in the stairwell doorway and coughed several times as the rookie took hold of the young man’s arm. She said, “Get up, champ, and let’s get you out of here.” He rose, his eyes watering uncontrollably. He made choking and wheezing sounds as he let her half-drag him into the underground parking area where she proceeded to read him his rights.

Dez clicked her shoulder mike and called in then gestured toward the well-lit elevator area. “I think we’ll stay out of the stairwell and ride back up.”

“Good idea. And this bozo here needs to have his eyes and face washed up.”

The red-capped man said, “You got that right. Shit, I need a kleenex.”

In a weary voice, the dark-haired cop said, “Yeah, yeah, we all do.”

It wasn’t until they got the suspect outside that Jaylynn saw what she had predicted all night. Big fluffy flakes of snow were falling.

* * *

Jaylynn sat, her arms crossed over her chest, as Crystal recounted all the ways she’d like to help the blonde wreak revenge on rookie officer Dwayne Nielsen. It was the end of a week of working Third Watch without Dez, and the young woman was already tired of spending the entire shift paired with someone other than Dez. Being apart gave her an ache in her chest, behind her breastbone. It faded when she wasn’t thinking of Dez, but when she did conjure up the lovely blue eyes, the ache returned. She knew there would be many nights in the future when she wouldn’t even see the veteran cop at meal breaks because the Sergeant would now always assign them to different sectors. Tonight she and Crystal were on the East Side, several miles away from Frogtown, where Dez was assigned.

The first five hours of Third Watch had been quiet: two possible breaking and enterings reported, a barking dog complaint, and a drunk and disorderly at the QT Tavern. It was full dark now, with a light breeze in the air. Last night’s snow had already melted, leaving everything looking bleak and washed out. Jaylynn was happy to feel exactly comfortable temperature-wise, not too hot, not too cold, just right. But it was the first of November - any time soon it could start snowing non-stop and turn bitter cold.

Dispatch came over the radio to summon them to a domestic dispute on Forest Street. Crystal gunned the car up Mounds View Boulevard, turned on Forest, and pulled up to a dilapidated brown, two-story house on the corner. As she got out of the car, Jaylynn could hear high-pitched shrieking and a lower, deeper voice shouting. The windows weren’t even open, and she could hear thuds and scuffling. “Great,” she said. “Sounds like a real dandy.”

“What is wrong with people!” Crystal said, as she shook her head.

They moved swiftly up a walk bordered by bunches of patchy grass. Three not-quite-life-size fiberglass deer - a buck, a doe, and a spotted fawn - grazed in the dirt to the left of the stairs and below the front room window. The deer looked out of place in the shabby yard. Jaylynn followed Crystal up five cement steps to the concrete porch. She leaned on the black wrought iron railing that ran up the left side of the stairs and attached to the side of the house.

“Open up!” Crystal shouted as she beat on the front door. “It’s the police.”

All sound in the house ceased abruptly, and Jaylynn heard a shuffle of footsteps. The lock turned and the door swung inward, revealing the face of a frightened child, about seven years old. With dark, solemn eyes, he looked up at the officers. He wore a ragged yellow Pokemon t-shirt and blue sweat bottoms that were much too tight.

“St. Paul Police,” Crystal said. “Can we see the adults who are here?”

The boy stepped back and opened the door wide to admit the two women. They walked into a tidy living room. The ancient gold carpeting still bore the signs of a recent vacuuming, and as they moved into the room their duty boots left footprints in the deep nap. Two shabby couches, a standing pole lamp, and a recliner were the only furniture in the room.  he sole illumination in the front room came from the light shining in from the street lamp outside.

Just then a door ahead of them on the opposite wall opened up, and a woman emerged who appeared to be Jaylynn’s age. She pulled the door shut behind her and stood leaning against it. Holding her left arm crossed over her chest, her opposite hand covered her mouth and chin. Perilously thin, with bags under her eyes, she displayed the same dark eyes as the young boy standing by the front door. She had obviously been crying but had tried to dab away the tears. As Jaylynn stood looking at the woman’s impassive face, she saw water collect in the corners of her eyes and seep out onto her cheekbones.

“Ma’am,” Crystal said. “We received a report of a dispute. Is everything all right?”

The woman mumbled through her hand, and Jaylynn thought she said, “Yes, officer. No trouble.”

Jaylynn watched the woman closely. It was clear something wasn’t quite right, but she wasn’t sure what.

Crystal said, “What’s your name, ma’am?”

Jaylynn thought the woman said Cindy Sterling. She stepped closer to the woman and said, “Ms. Sterling, please hold your hands out in front of you so I can see them.”

She saw the look of fright in the brown eyes, but the woman did as she was told. Her right hand came away covered with a generous amount of blood. Her bottom lip was split in at least three places, and Jaylynn wondered if some of her teeth had been knocked out because of all the blood in her mouth. In the dim light, her teeth looked black and white, like something out of a Bela Lugosi movie.

“Who did this to you?” barked Crystal.

The little boy, still holding the front door handle, piped up and said, “Bucky hits mommy all the time.”

“Shut up, Vinny!” the woman hissed.

The little boy ran to the stairwell leading up to the second floor and hid on the other side, his scared, white face peeking out between the spindles of the railing.

“All right, lady,” Crystal said. “That’s enough. Where is this Bucky?”

Defiantly, Ms. Sterling turned the handle of the door behind her, stepped aside, and let the door swing slowly open. A short hallway, about six feet long, led back into another dimly lit room. From where they stood, Jaylynn could see a large figure lying on a couch against the opposite wall, the only light the flickering blue emitted from a TV somewhere else in the room.

“Sir,” Crystal said loudly. “Please get up and come out here. Now.”

The man didn’t move.

Jaylynn and Crystal looked at one another. They waited a moment. Jaylynn thought perhaps the man was asleep - or dead - but then she saw one large arm lift and scratch his chest. She saw no weapons anywhere, and she could see both his hands, so she moved down the tight hallway, Crystal at her back. “You’re under arrest, sir, for domestic assault. Get up. You’re going downtown.”

“Screw you.” The man’s voice was deep and soft. Crystal paused in the hallway, one hand on her ASR, the other hand on her gun, as Jaylynn moved into the center of the room. Bucky continued to look past her at the TV set where WWF Smackdown participants were tossing one another around in the ring. He lay motionless, wearing black levi pants, square-toed brown leather boots, and a dirty white t-shirt that didn’t completely cover his mound of a beer belly. He had three days growth of beard on his face and chin, and he looked like he hadn’t bathed for a few days either.

“Listen, Bucky, don’t make me do this the hard way.” The rookie glanced over her shoulder at Crystal, who just shrugged and seemed to be encouraging Jaylynn.

The man tore his eyes away from the television, and looked at her. “You are going to do what the hard way? Take me in? Ha!” He crossed his hands over his chest, chuckling quietly to himself.

Crystal moved into the room, standing next to Jaylynn. “We can call for backup, Mister, and you’re just going to get a charge for resisting arrest. Be a good sport and get up off your ass.”

The man rolled his eyes, showed them a two second display of his middle finger, then turned his attention back to the television.

Jaylynn saw the remote control on the floor. As Crystal pressed her shoulder mike to report to dispatch, the rookie bent and darted out a hand. She grabbed the remote and pointed it at the huge TV set. She pushed the off button, and the set went black.

“Hey, you little fucker!” roared the man. He was up off the couch much faster than Jaylynn ever expected. He moved so suddenly that he knocked Crystal backwards onto the floor, then lunged for the rookie. Jaylynn twisted away, turned and blasted through the little hallway, knowing Crystal would follow and back her up. She headed toward the front door. As she emerged onto the blocky, cement porch, Bucky caught her in one ham-sized hand by the collar of her leather jacket, stopping her in her tracks.

Jaylynn drove her elbow back into the big man’s stomach and tried to pull away. He grunted but held fast.

“You bitch… I’ll show you…”

“Crystal!” She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he loomed over her. She swung wildly with her right arm, succeeding only in smashing the remote control against the porch railing. Twisting to her left, which caused her head to be forced below his arms, she leaned back against the wrought iron railing and grabbed her baton in her right hand. With one smooth swing, she struck out at his left knee connecting to make a solid thwack noise. He snarled, a wild beastly roar, and slammed her against the railing, mashing her ribs and reinjuring the muscles around her tender collarbone. She dropped the baton, but he didn’t let go of her.

“Freeze, buddy,” shouted Crystal. She stood behind him in the doorway, both hands cradling her weapon. “Hands behind your head, asshole, or I swear to God I’ll shoot you!”

For a split second, the big man stood very still, one arm wrapped around Jaylynn’s waist, his other hand clutching the collar of her jacket. Her left side was pressed into his mammoth middle, and she could feel him breathing. She let her body go slack, hoping he would let go. For a freak second, she thought his hold was loosening, then he spun, swinging her around in front of him as he backed down the stairs.

In a high pitched squeal, he said, “Go ahead. Shoot me! But you’ll have to go through this little bitch first.” He laughed maniacally and continued to back down the cracked cement walkway, holding her well off the ground.

Her legs dangling, and one arm free, she took every opportunity to kick backwards and to strike him with her right arm. Her left arm was pinned in front of her, and she wasn’t able to pull away, and his arm was over her gun, so she couldn’t draw. She squirmed and kicked, feeling the hard edge of her heel nailing him in the shins and knees a number of times, but it didn’t slow him in the slightest.

Wide-eyed, Crystal followed them down the stairs, her Glock trained on the man. She lifted a hand to her shoulder mike, called the code, and quickly reported the situation. Clicking the mike off, she said, “Put her down. Now. You’re in enough trouble already. Let. Her. Go!”

Jaylynn could feel the man’s hold slipping, and his breath was coming in labored gasps. He let her slip down several inches, but she was still pinned tightly across the middle, her protective vest shifting upwards slightly. He hiked her higher up in the air so that her gunbelt dug in to her back and hip. The rookie realized her gun had to be poking him, too, and she thought, Oh, please God, don’t let him get my gun. Please! She formed a fist and brought her elbow back into his stomach, but to no avail. He made an oomph sound, but it didn’t stop him. Now he was to the curb, still backing up. He sidled backwards between the police car and an old red Camaro, which were parked about three feet apart. Jaylynn saw her chance. She pulled her feet up, put one on the back bumper of the Camaro and the other on the front of the police car, and used her legs to push off and slightly to the left. This threw Bucky off balance, and because Jaylynn’s feet were placed at different levels, it threw her off, too. They fell against the Camaro, the side of her head striking the back windshield. The rookie twisted and kicked. The big man lost his hold, and she rolled off the rusted red vehicle.

Crystal was on them in an instant, but not before he had a chance to pull back his foot and nail Jaylynn solidly in the chin with his square-toed boot. The last things she remembered as the world went blank were a flash of pain in her jaw, the taste of metal in her mouth, and an antlered fiberglass deer gazing her way as though surprised to see her.

* * *

Cruising University near Rice Street, Dez heard the first call and Crystal’s clipped tense words to Dispatch. Holding down the panic, she flipped on lights and siren and did a U turn right in front of oncoming traffic. She didn’t care that the other cars had the right-of-way. She hit the gas and drove up University, turned on Jackson, and careened around the corner onto 7th Street. She weaved and swerved as cars attempted to get out of her way, once even going up on the curb.

Another loud, clear voice came over the radio instructing backup units to head to the Forest Street address and shortly after, another series of messages came over between Dispatch and Crystal. They used the cryptic 10-codes, but it was very clear to Dez that an officer was down and needed medical attention in a hurry. If she could hear Crystal’s voice, who else could it be other than Jaylynn?

The cold, hard knot in Dez’s stomach twisted into a frozen ball. She forgot how to breathe. She was conscious of the whine in her ears, the flashing lights, the grainy black and white and gray of the world she passed by, but her mind held no thoughts. Driving purely by instinct, she was impelled forward by a liquid-cold fear surrounded by a deadly calm.

She made the right turn onto Mounds Boulevard going forty, slowed enough to negotiate the red light on Kellogg, and sped toward Forest. She heard the tires scream when she made the right turn but she was intent only on reaching the house. She caught sight of the police car and saw figures in a yard on the right. A limp figure lay sprawled on the sidewalk ahead, between a large laughing man and Crystal, who stood, feet apart, left hand cradling her right, with her gun trained on him. Dez’s squad car rolled easily up onto the sidewalk. Ripping the door open, she was out as though ejected and moving smoothly with the speed and velocity of a Mack truck.

In the six running strides to the man, Dez saw the blonde woman’s face, covered in blood and unmoving. She was dead. The rookie was dead. Dez let out a shriek, a sound of desperate fury and loss, and all about her the world suddenly became muted. The colors washed out. Sound muffled. Her vision narrowed until all she saw was a dirty white t-shirt.

Like a lineman tackling the quarterback, the dark-haired cop lowered her head and plowed into the beer belly, driving the big man several steps back into the street. He brought a large fist up and mashed it into her brow, but that was the last blow he got in. She kneed him in the groin, and when he doubled over, hit him with an uppercut. She laced her hands together and brought them to the side like a batter, then smashed them into the side of his head. He made a choking sound and tried to back away. She hit him in the stomach, again and again.

“You killed him,” she sobbed. “I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. You murderer, you killed him, you scum, you…you…”

She nailed him with a roundhouse to the side of the jaw. The big man fell to his knees, and she brought her bloodied fist back. Her entire world reduced to a gray whirling tunnel that led from her fist to his face. A gash opened up in his brow, spurting blood that looked black in the moonlight. She drew her fist back again, unconscious of the damage she was doing to her own hand, and suddenly she was off balance, being pulled away. In her ear a familiar male voice shouted.

“Cut it out, Reilly! Calm down. Calm down, for chrissake!”

With a shriek of frustration she tried to extricate herself, but two sets of arms held her.

“Let me go! Let go of me! He killed Ryan. He deserves to die.” The last word came out a rasping shout, and she found herself panting, wheezing. She was filled through and through with a feeling of horror and rage. “Goddammit, let me go!” she screamed. She kicked out, flailing with hands and feet, twisting, shouting.

Gritting her teeth, she closed her eyes and continued to struggle. In her mind’s eye she saw the blond hair, the blue eyes - the vision from a hundred terrifying dreams - and she redoubled her efforts to free herself.

She was on her back, heavy weights on her chest, arms and legs. A sharp rock dug into her right hip. The whine of a siren split her eardrums, then quavered down to nothing. She heard slamming doors, shouts, the murmur of urgent voices. She opened her eyes, gulping air as best she could, and the world changed from the gray swirling confusion it had been to solid black and blue - the solid, dark hues of blue uniforms. Gasping for breath, she came to her senses, a feeling a dread coursing through her. “Oh, shit. Braswell, get the hell off me.”

Nobody moved.

She gazed up at the fat cop, Braswell, with his pork chop sideburns. His red, sweating face looked at her with concern. He straddled her thighs and pressed down on her collarbones while two other cops, Tilden and Oster, knelt on her arms and pressed her shoulders into the dirt. She thought for a moment that she might vomit, but she forced the feeling back. “Let me up,” she said in a quiet and reasonable voice.

Braswell said, “You ain’t gonna go nutso on us now, are you, Reilly?”

She took a deep breath. “No.”

Mitch Oster was the first to loosen his grip. He shifted from his knees back to a squat, peering at her with worry in his eyes. Tilden let go and stood up to brush off his pants legs. Braswell rose with effort, hitching up his pants over his prodigious belly.