Gun Shy

by Lori L. Lake

  “Don’t patronize me. I know how I feel, and this is not childish hero worship.” She stopped abruptly and took a deep breath, closed her eyes and considered her options. She couldn’t think of any. This is a losing battle. She marveled at the fact that somehow she knew it before she awoke. “Dez, I’m confused. I don’t understand. I know how you feel. You may think you’re impervious to others, but I can see—hell, I can feel your emotions. I’m not getting the whole story here, am I?”

  Dez looked away, then tossed the towel a few feet onto the valet chair. She snugged the robe tighter about her and fidgeted with the belt. “I think I told you last night that I can’t date cops. It never works out. It’s a rule I don’t want to break.”

  “You don’t date cops? Or you mean you won’t date me?”

  “C’mon, Jaylynn. Don’t make this so hard.”

  “I just want to know the truth.”

  “That is the truth. I don’t date cops.”

  “In twenty-four hours I can be an ex-cop. Would that change your point of view?”

  Dez shuddered. She moved away from the couch, her back to Jaylynn. “You can’t give up your career.”

  “But theoretically speaking, if I did, we wouldn’t be breaking your rule. So then, what would you say?”

  Dez adjusted the belt even tighter and faced Jaylynn, her face a blaze of anger. “No. I would say no.”

  Jaylynn felt all the blood run out of her face, and she went cold all over. “So it’s not about me being a cop—”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “No. It’s not.” Jaylynn slipped out from under the quilt and retrieved her running shoes from next to the coffee table. She sat on the couch and tied her shoes. “You’re lying to yourself and you’re lying to me. This isn’t about us being cops. Why don’t you tell me the truth? You think I’m too young to take it?”

  Dez’s face was grimmer and whiter than Jaylynn had ever seen it. She crossed her arms over the blood red robe and in a calm voice said, “All right. Maybe there is more. My job is too important to jeopardize. I won’t risk it by having others find out I’m in a relationship with another officer—and a woman at that.”

  Jaylynn brushed her hair out of her eyes and in a weary voice said, “Nobody cares. They already think you’re gay anyway.”

  “The hell they do!”

  “Wake up, Dez. Believe me when I say it’s a subject your fellow officers have discussed at length.” She let out a bark of laughter. “There’s even money on it.”

  “Oh, shit! That’s—that’s—don’t listen to the station house gossip. It’s all bullshit.” Now her face flamed red, and fine veins in her forehead showed through. “Those jerks know nothing for sure, and I’m keeping it that way. I’ve worked too hard building a reputation, creating alliances. I’m not blowing that now.”

  Jaylynn’s anger surged in response. “You’d rather ride around alone in a patrol car, holding out your sterling reputation and keeping everyone at arm’s length than take a chance with me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Dez glared at her and crossed her arms around the red robe as though she were cold. “Yes.”

  “You’d rather ride all night alone than in a two-man car with a partner?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. What do you want to do about it?”

  “Nothing, Dez. That’s your choice.” Jaylynn rose and tucked her plaid shirt into her jeans. “I’m just sorry you feel that way, that it’s more important for you to keep up appearances than to care about other people.” She strode through the door and into the kitchen and grabbed her jacket.

  Dez came to stand in the doorway. She looked uncertain. “Hey, let me get some clothes on and I’ll run you home.”

  “Nope. That’s all right. I can walk.”

  “Geez, Jay, it’s over a mile. I’ll take you. It’s cold out.”

  In a voice as cold as ice, she said, “Thanks. But I’d much rather walk.” She opened the kitchen door, not looking back, and smacked it shut behind her, leaving Dez lightheaded.

  She stumbled back into the living room area and onto the couch. God, that went badly. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I didn’t mean for it to be so—so damn awful. She couldn’t control it anymore. Her eyes welled up with tears and she sat on the couch, her head in her hands, and cried bitter tears until she could cry no more.

  Jaylynn pulled up her hood and adjusted the snaps as tightly as she could. Despite the weak late morning sun, she felt the cold. She tucked her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket and closed her eyes a moment, shaking her head. That went so badly. That was a dose of stubborn Irish womanhood I never expected to see. But hey, I’m a realist, right? I should have known she wouldn’t be able to handle it. I should have known. I blew it. God, I messed things up big time.

  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment.

  But does Dez really feel that way? That her career is more important than exploring a relationship with someone else? I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it.

  She kicked every rock she came across, and as she walked, she became increasingly angry. What a chicken shit! A voice in the back of her head tried to argue that Dez was probably still dealing with Ryan’s death, that perhaps she needed more time, but Jaylynn pushed the thought out of her mind. No sympathy allowed. Not until she forced Dez to work this out with her. Dammit, she’ll listen to reason or else.

  Jaylynn was chilled but fuming when she reached the house. She was grateful neither Sara nor Tim were home as she stomped up the stairs to her room. She undressed, got into the shower, and kept turning Dez’s words over and over in her head. How could she be so callous, so hard-hearted? I know for a fact she has a heart in there somewhere. How can she deny herself love and pleasure and happiness? I don’t understand. Steaming hot water coursed over her and she fought back the tears. No tears, Dez had told her. Cops don’t cry. No need to cry about this now. It’s not over.

  The Monday and Tuesday days off dragged by for Jaylynn. A tiny fraction of her hoped Dez might perhaps call, but the phone never rang for anyone in the household but Tim. She tried to focus on a book, a video, tidying up her room, all the while trying to dissolve the awful feeling of doom that had been sitting on her chest since Sunday.

  Finally, by Wednesday afternoon, she could take it no longer. Still upset, she’d picked over her lunch, not able to eat much. After the meal, she borrowed Tim’s beater and drove over to Dez’s place. She went around to the backyard and was surprised to find Luella out sweeping the light dusting of snow off the cement walk.

  “Hello, dear.” Luella said. “How are you?”

  “Hi, Luella. I’m fine. Whatcha up to?”

  Luella leaned on the broom. “Nothing much at all. I’ve got some excellent pork loin leftover if you—”

  Jaylynn shook her head. “Thanks, Luella, but I ate a big lunch, and I just couldn’t. But thank you so much for offering. I still haven’t gotten over how wonderful those ribs were that you made the last time I was here!”

  “Secret family recipe,” Luella said in a conspiratorial voice. “Someday I’ll share it with you.”

  “Sounds good. So is Dez around? I need to talk with her.”

  “You go on up, honey. She’s been in hermit mode all day. Hope you can get her to come out, enjoy a few of the sun’s rays before it’s pitch black out. I swear she’s turning into a vampire—only comes out at night.” Luella laughed at that and followed Jaylynn up the stairs into the house. “Go on. See if you can liven her up some.”

  Jaylynn took the stairs two at a time and stood in front of the door a moment trying to compose herself. She rapped on the door and waited until Dez whipped it open and looked at her as though startled. “Uh, hi. What’re you doing here?”

  “I was hoping we could talk before our shift.”

  Dez was barefoot and wore baggy black sweatpants and an oversized faded blue T-shirt. She looked like she’d just awakened. She opened the door wider and stepped back to le
t Jaylynn into the tiny kitchen, then backed up to the counter and put her hands on the edge. She leaned her hips against it, legs crossed at the ankle. Jaylynn came in and shut the door behind her. She faced Dez and saw a tension about her, an edginess directed her way that Jaylynn wasn’t used to getting. How could Dez be so cold, she wondered, so distant?

  Dez said, “I wish you’d called and told me you were coming.”

  Jaylynn shook her head and laughed humorlessly. “I would have, had I known your phone number. I suppose you know you’re unlisted, right?”

  Dez gave a slight nod.

  “Could we talk about Sunday night?” Jaylynn shifted from one foot to the other.

  Dez glared over her shoulder, not meeting Jaylynn’s eyes, her face going from pale and tight to pink and impassive in the space of only a few seconds. “There’s really not much to talk about.”

  Jaylynn tucked her hands into her jacket pockets and tilted her head a bit to the side, looking at Dez quizzically. “How can you say that?”

  “I think we said it all already. Maybe this is one of those things where we have to agree to disagree.”

  “And where does that leave you and me?”

  Dez shrugged. She looked around the room, everywhere but at Jaylynn.

  Jaylynn was glad she’d eaten so little because her stomach contracted, and she felt like she couldn’t quite breathe. This was worse than she’d expected.

  She made one last stab. “I don’t know if it helps to say this, but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you or offend you or—”

  “No, no, no.” Dez made a motion with her hand to cut her off. She straightened up and put one hand back on the counter, the other on her hip. “Forget about it,” she said sharply.

  Jaylynn stepped back as though slapped. “Okay.” She took a deep breath. “All right then.” She grabbed hold of the knob and whipped open the door. This time she looked back. Dez was leaning against the counter again, her arms crossed over the blue T-shirt. She looked down at the floor. Jaylynn didn’t bother to shut the door. She made it to the stairs in four quick steps and hurtled down in a rush, grateful when she hit the cold, clear air outside.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Jaylynn arrived early for her shift only to learn Dez had called in sick. “First time in a couple of years,” the duty sergeant said, “other than that broken arm thing last summer, which doesn’t really count as a sick day.”

  Jaylynn was assigned to ride with Officer Cheryl Pilcher, a seasoned veteran in her early forties. Jaylynn only knew her well enough to smile and say hi, but she did know Pilcher had recently celebrated her twenty-year anniversary because some of the other cops razzed her about it. Pilcher was known to be quite a cut-up around the station, playing practical jokes and hamming it up. Jaylynn looked her over surreptitiously during roll call. A curvaceous woman at least three inches shorter than Jaylynn, Pilcher had sandy brown hair and brown eyes. She moved with confidence, a kind of strutting sureness Jaylynn wished she herself possessed.

  Jaylynn was nervous at first because Pilcher didn’t seem happy about the pairing, but once they headed toward the car, her temporary partner said, “It’ll be nice to ride with you tonight, Savage. I started out as Vell’s FTO, but he got transferred to Tour I because they were so short. I’ve been on my own since my partner left for an extended paternity leave, and it gets kind of lonely out here alone. You want to drive or should I?”

  Jaylynn hesitated. “I don’t usually drive.”

  “Yeah, that’s right. You’ve been riding with Reilly, and she hogs the wheel all the time. Here. Why don’t you take the keys and drive the first half of the shift. I’ll catch the second half after meal break. And don’t call me Pilcher. My name’s Cheryl.”

  “And you can call me Jaylynn—or Jay.” She took the keys and got into the cruiser.

  Jaylynn found Cheryl was an entertaining partner. Before too long they were sharing stories of what happened to each of them in their first few months on the job. After a particularly amusing story about one of the grumpier old guys in the division refusing to let Cheryl drive because of her “height impairment,” Jaylynn said, “Hey, it’s good to hear somebody else’s old war stories. This is a tough job at first, but I’m getting better at it.”

  “How many other cops have you ridden with?”

  “In training, I had two weeks each with Alvarez, Culpepper, and then Reilly. Since then, just Reilly. I’ve only been on the force for three months, you know.”

  “You should ask around, talk to the other women. Some of them can tell you real horror stories. You won’t get any out of Dez Reilly though. She tell you anything about her first months?”

  Jaylynn shook her head.

  “Yeah, figures. She must have been born a cop. She’s like the golden girl of all the bosses. Never makes a mistake. Well, not until Michaelson anyway.”

  Jaylynn eyed Cheryl with a puzzled look on her face. “What do you mean?”

  “You heard about Ryan Michaelson, right?”

  “Yeah, her partner who died.”

  “He might be alive today if she had stood by him, gave him first aid.”

  “I don’t understand,” Jaylynn whispered. “I thought he was shot by some low-life.”

  “He was. She called for backup and the paramedics, and then went off to chase the shooter—she got him, too—but Michaelson bled to death. I hear she’s doing real good at training in rookies, but I wouldn’t want to ride with her on a regular basis. Guess I’m superstitious. Besides that, she acts like she’s too good for all of us veteran female cops. I hope she treated you well.”

  “For the most part, yes, she did.”

  “Wasn’t too hard on you, was she?”

  Jaylynn hesitated.

  “You know you can report anything to the lieutenant.”

  “No, no, there weren’t any problems.”

  Jaylynn felt Cheryl’s eyes bore into her. The older cop said, “You know her nickname, don’t ya?”

  “No.”

  “The Ice Queen. Seems fitting, don’t you think? Personally, I think of her as Dez the Lez. She didn’t make a pass at you or anything, did she?”

  Jaylynn snorted and shook her head. “No. That for sure never happened.”

  “An awful lot of us wonder if she’s gay, but hey, she’s the Ice Queen. What’s the chance of that when she’s so damn cold-hearted? You’ll probably ride with her again, and remember, if she’s ever hard on you, you should report it.”

  Cheryl rattled on about procedures for complaints, but Jaylynn wasn’t listening. Things clicked into place about Dez. The way she held herself apart from the other women, her reticence to get involved, the sadness around her so much of the time. No wonder she didn’t want to get close to me. She was probably planning on getting rid of the new rookie as soon as she could anyway. But what were those couple of kisses all about?

  Jaylynn felt a flush rise from her neck to forehead and was glad for the veil of twilight that obscured her features from the chattering passenger. Those kisses were for real. Jaylynn stopped to reflect. Well, maybe not. Maybe I just got so carried away feeling what I wanted to feel that I thought it was mutual. Still—she let me hold her all night. Wasn’t that something? But that could be explained, too. Dez had been so tired, exhausted actually. Perhaps she put up with it because she was overtired. She humored me. She was going to pass me on to someone else when her Field Training Officer assignment ended, and she was being polite. That’s why she said she’d rather ride alone. I didn’t think it was true, but now I know it must be.

  A call came over the radio, and Cheryl picked it up to respond. Off they went to a domestic call, and thoughts of Dez left Jaylynn for a short while.

  Dez arrived at work an hour early on Thursday and apologized to the duty sergeant, Belton, for her absence the day before.

  “Gee, Reilly, you’re never sick. Don’t worry about it. Actually,” he peered at her face, “you still look like shit. Sure you’re feeling okay
today?”

  Dez felt herself blush. She smiled. “Nah, I feel fine today, even if I don’t look so good. Is the lieutenant in?”

  “Yeah, and he’s in a good mood, so don’t piss him off.”

  “Never. Would I do that to you?” She smiled grimly and he winked back at her as she stepped past the battered metal desk and tapped on the scarred wood trim outside Lieutenant Malcolm’s open office door.

  He looked up. “Reilly, how’re you doing?” The lieutenant was elbow deep in paperwork, his suit jacket off with his dingy white shirt sleeves rolled up.

  “I’m fine, sir. But I have a request to make about trainee assignments.”

  “Yeah?” He sat back. “You want to come in and sit down?”

  “No thanks, this will only take a minute of your time. I think I’m ready to pass Savage on to one of the other FTOs.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “What?” Dez frowned, thoroughly taken aback.

  “She and Pilcher already asked for reassignment yesterday, and I approved it. Now don’t tell me you girls went and had a big fight last tour?”

  Dez sputtered. “No sir, we most certainly didn’t. I was out sick. I don’t know anything about—”

  “Calm down, Reilly.” He laughed. “There’s no problem. I was just jerkin’ your chain a little. She said she was ready for a change, wanted the chance to ride with a variety of officers. She complimented you. Said you taught her a lot.” He shuffled the pages in his hands. “Sure doesn’t happen very often that vets and rookies have the same sense of timing. Good job. You’re on your own for a while until the duty sergeant sets you up with someone else.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She turned to go.

  “Reilly? I do appreciate you taking the rookies out and showing them the ropes. You’ve done a good job, and I mean that.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Won’t be long though, and you’ll have to hook up with a regular partner any time you work the East Side.”