it was animosity, between her and her siblings was nothing new—they would have disapproved of anything she did short of becoming a nun—but her father’s reaction had stung. Somehow, deep down, Risa had always thought that if she followed in his footsteps he might finally give her the same kind of attention he’d lavished on her brothers.
She’d been wrong.
When she’d told him she’d been accepted, Ed Taylor had frowned and muttered something about regret, then he’d disappeared into the garage of his aging home in Meyerland where Risa had grown up. She’d started after him, then she’d spit out, “What the hell,” and had left, understanding, better than ever, how her mother must have felt when she left him. If you didn’t see the world the same way Ed Taylor saw it, you were worthless to him. No wonder her mother had hit the road and never looked back. Risa got a Christmas card from her yearly and that was it. The lack of communication had hurt until she’d finally understood.
After she began her classes, the ache eased even more. Time had something to do with it, but more significantly, she made friends. She’d never been very good at that—and she still wasn’t—but the five women she’d met during the six-month course were different from any she’d ever known.
Except for one, they surrounded her now, their faces etched with concern as she sat on the table in the emergency-room cubicle. Hearing the officer-down call and recognizing Risa’s partner’s name, they’d come in from every side of town. Risa was incredibly grateful for their company and support. If she’d been the kind of woman who let herself say so, she would have broken down and told them what they meant to her.
Abby Carlton stood the closest, her hand warm on Risa’s back as she patted her shoulder in a comforting way. At twenty-nine, she was nearest in age to Risa’s twenty-seven, but she was the “mother” of the group. In a heartrending decision, she’d dropped out of the Academy to follow the love of her life, but things hadn’t worked out. She’d returned to Houston a year later to complete her classes, ending up in patrol and doing extra duty on the Crisis Intervention Team. Her warm eyes were filled with sympathy and pain, not just for Risa’s injury, which was minor, but for everything that had happened in the past few hours.
Crista Santiago stood on the other side, fiercely gripping Risa’s left hand. A Latina from the east side, Crista was thirty-three. She’d had a difficult time growing up in Houston’s barrios, but she’d risen above her former life and come out a survivor. A detective, she was tough…and gorgeous. She swung her dark hair away from her face as she leaned closer.
“Everything will be okay, chica.” As if her words could make it so, Crista spoke with confidence. The only hint she was upset was the Spanish that slipped out apparently before she could stop it. “Thank God, you got the sorry cabrones who did this…”
Risa squeezed Crista’s hand in acknowledgment then dropped it as Lucy Montalvo spoke from the foot of the gurney. “You got them both?”
Lucy was in the Missing Persons Unit of the Investigations Command. She was single-minded and ambitious and she’d made her way up the department just like Risa had—by working hard and being determined. Neither of them had a lot of free time to do things together, but out of all the women, Risa felt closest to Lucy. For good or for bad, they each valued their careers more than anything else in their lives.
Risa nodded.
“That’s some kind of shootin’. Those hours at the range finally paid off.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” she answered quietly. “When Luke came around the corner, they opened up.”
“You did what you had to, Risa.” Mei Lu Ling spoke from the other side of the room. Leaning against the wall, her thin form dressed in black, she looked every inch the successful businesswoman she’d once been. She was a valuable member of the White-collar Crimes Unit, putting that experience to good use. She’d be a lieutenant by this time next year, Risa guessed. Even-tempered and measured in her ways, Mei Lu offered sound advice now. “Don’t look back. You did what you had to.”
“I know,” Risa lied. “But it all happened so fast and then boom! It was over, just like that. Luke was bleeding and I told him to hang on and he said he would, then…” She looked down at her hands. They should have been shaking, because she was on the inside, but they lay in her lap, perfectly still with streaks of dried blood on them. She raised her eyes. “Then he died anyway. He was gone before the ambulance even got here.”
Silence filled the cubicle as Risa’s words seemed to hang in the air.
“Have you heard from Catherine?” Crista asked after a moment.
Risa shook her head. Catherine Tanner’s presence would have made the group complete, but she would be swamped right now with other duties. She’d been one of their instructors at the Academy and now at forty-five she was the oldest and most experienced of them. She was also the chief of police. Only one other woman in Houston’s history had served in that position and she’d been appointed by a female mayor. To the majority of the force that had meant she didn’t count.
“She won’t come,” Lucy said, echoing Risa’s thoughts. “She can’t appear to be too close to Risa right now or people might read it wrong. Plus she’s got to deal with the media and IA and everything else—”
“Including Luke’s family.” Abby turned to Risa, her expression anxious. “He was married, wasn’t he, Risa? Did he have any children?”
Risa nodded slowly, instantly deciding the details of Luke’s disintegrating home situation would be a secret she would keep. “His wife’s name is Melinda, and yes, they have a little boy,” she answered. “I think he’s three, maybe four…” Her sentence petered out as her chest tightened. She hoped the poor kid would get a better deal than she had, but any way you sliced it, growing up in a one-parent household was not for sissies.
The curtains surrounding the cubicle parted and the doctor who’d stitched Risa’s cheek stepped in, a male nurse by his side. Pulling a piece of paper from his pocket, the physician handed it to Risa while the other man began to clean up the remnants of bandages and tape scattered over the counter.
“That’s a script for a painkiller,” the doctor said. Retrieving another one from his other pocket, he held it out, too. “And this is for some sleeping pills. You might have some trouble the next few days—”
Still woozy from the shot he’d given her to stitch her face, Risa shook her head…a little too hard. She gripped the table. “I don’t need it.”
“You’ve just been through a very traumatic situation. Are you sure?”
She stood up and the room spun. “I’m very sure,” she answered. “I don’t take stuff like that.”
His wavering image split into three men in three white coats. Each of them nodded. “All right,” he said with a sigh. The sound said he’d dealt with cops before. They were all macho—the men and the women.
Risa nodded—a big mistake—then she walked out of the cubicle, her friends on either side supporting her in more ways than one.
THE WAITING ROOM WAS a blue sea and it would remain so until Luke’s body was released. That’s the way it had always been done when an officer got shot and Risa expected the tradition would never change. She entered, then stutter-stepped slightly, Abby clutching her right elbow, Lucy still holding her left. Their grips were firm but discreet. Any sign of weakness from a female cop, even one who’d just been shot, set them all back.
“Hang tough,” Crista murmured from behind her. “We’ll talk to the widow then get you out, okay?”
Risa nodded, the word widow throwing her for a second.
The women waded en masse through the uniforms, eyes watching from every corner of the room. In truth, the majority of the men they worked alongside were okay, but the few who weren’t pleasant were a vocal minority. Risa heard someone mutter, “…better partner this wouldn’t have happened…” then she found