by Riker, Becky
“And you were?”
“Yep. I’ve been doing it for seven years.”
“And you like it?”
“I do. I have two black belts, and I still do gymnastics. I don’t think I want to do stunts forever, but I’m grateful for the work right now.”
Tag scratched at his head, “No wonder I couldn’t catch you.”
She smiled, “I’m not actually very fast, so you’d probably beat me in a straight race.”
He seemed moderately placated by that. He picked up his fork to take a bite but stopped the motion before it reached his mouth.”
“And don’t call me Thaddeus.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Tag didn’t get back into the station for a week after his visit to the gym. Twice, he went for an early morning run by the station and considered going inside to use the weight room. Both times he turned away and simply extended his running route. His friends knew the situation, and they weren’t likely to treat him differently.
It was the people from other departments who bothered him. They watched him as he passed through the halls. Harry had already told him there were rumors going around about what had gone down, and very few of the stories held any resemblance to the truth. Tag wasn’t a timid man, but he hated the curious glances and sympathetic expressions.
Tag didn’t attempt to contact Josie again either. He wasn’t interested in a serious relationship, and he could tell by looking she wasn’t the type of girl to date casually. Despite his attraction to her, Tag wasn’t really disappointed; there were plenty of girls who just wanted to have a good time, and he had never had trouble finding them.
At the moment, Tag wasn’t too interested in women. Jacobson had suggested it as a way to keep himself busy until the department let him back on the team, but he didn’t feel on the top of his game while his career was up in the air. He spent his time improving his physical fitness instead.
He had increased his run by a mile every couple days and was getting ready to attempt ten miles when his phone rang.
“Madden here.”
“Tag, this is Lowell. Hanson wants you in her office at eleven.”
Tag lifted his foot to a stool to tie his shoe, “What does she want?”
“To talk to you,” Lowell’s voice took on the same appeasing tone he used for negotiating.
“I don’t need to talk to her, Sarge. I just want her to clear me.”
“Which she is more likely to do after she talks to you.”
Tag couldn’t deny that, but he was a little annoyed that Lowell felt the need to treat him like a mentally unstable suspect.
“I’m headed out for a run. Can we do it later?”
“It’s only seven,” the conciliatory tone was gone.
“I had plans.”
“Change them.”
“Fine,” Tag knew when not to cross the sergeant.
Dr. Hanson was waiting for him in her beige office, drinking her chai tea. She had some sort of non-music noise playing. Tag thought it was probably supposed to sound like waves or wind.
“Have a seat, Officer Madden.”
Tag did as he was told.
“How are you doing today, Thaddeus?”
“I’d be doing better if you wouldn’t call me that.”
She wrote something in her notebook, and Tag could only assume she was noting his hostility.
“I suppose you prefer Tag.”
“Or Officer Madden. Or just Madden.”
Her smile was as phony as a three dollar bill, “Okay, Madden. How are you today?”
“I’m good.”
“How have you been keeping yourself busy the past couple weeks?”
“This and that.”
“Dating?”
Tag felt like asking her if her fixation on his love life was due to the lack of her own.
“Not much. I had supper with a woman last week, but she’s just a friend.”
Hanson raised her eyebrows, “I wasn’t aware you had friends of the female persuasion.”
Tag took stock of his own body language and realized he was projecting a hostile image; his arms were crossed over his chest and he had been tapping his foot against the leg of the table. He dropped his arms slowly and released his clenched fists so they were draped beside him. He leaned back into the cushions of the taupe sofa and crossed his legs at the ankles.
“I have plenty of female friends.”
“Oh?”
He found her benign smile more than a little grating.
“I’m not a misogynist, Hanson.”
She laughed, “Good to know. Let’s talk about this female friend of yours.”
“Let’s not.”
Hanson scribbled something on her notepad, “Does she realize you aren’t interested in a romantic relationship?”
“I’m sure she is, and if I were, she isn’t interested in a relationship with me.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not her type.”
Hanson raised an eyebrow, “What is her type?”
“Steady.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Tag should have seen that coming.
“It makes me feel fine. She’s not my type either.”
“I didn’t realize you had a type, Officer Madden.”
“She’s intense – a bit edgy,” he tossed the doctor something to play with. “I don’t mind that in a friend, but I wouldn’t like to date someone like that.”
Hanson made the humming noise for which she was famous throughout the ranks of the department. It meant she thought she had figured something out. She hadn’t really, but Tag had better sense than to enlighten her.
“Will you be seeing this friend again?”
“Probably not any time soon.”
He didn’t admit that he hardly knew her and wasn’t sure she was interested in seeing him again.
“How did you meet her?”
Tag raced through his options. He wasn’t going to tell her about the chases, nor did he want to say her sister was his neighbor.
“I know her family.”
“Ah,” she steepled her fingers, “an old friend then.”
Tag did not see any need to correct that assumption.
“Tell me, Madden,” she said when it was clear he wasn’t going to say more. “What was going through your head when you pulled that trigger?”
Tag tried not to react to the abrupt change. She had used that tactic before, and he had snapped. He was going to keep his cool this time.
“I was thinking about my breathing.”
“Your breathing?”
“I need to control my breathing so it doesn’t alter the shot. I was thinking about my breathing.”
She frowned, “You weren’t thinking about the victim?”
“Harold Brady?” he wondered why he would be thinking of him when he was about to shoot. “No. I wasn’t. That would distract me from my job.”
“Not Harold,” she corrected him. “Melissa Roberts. Your victim.”
Tag reminded himself to keep calm, “Melissa Roberts was not a victim. She was the perpetrator. She had killed four people and was about to kill another. There were twelve people still in that bank. I saved lives by shooting her.”
“You don’t feel there were other options?”
“We had tried other options. That’s how Brady got shot. She had her gun pointed at Jacobson. She had shown no remorse over shooting four civilians and no fear that she might have killed an officer. When Lowell told me to take the shot when ready, I fired.”
She took off her glasses and set them on her desk, “So you were just following orders?”
“I was using good judgment, common sense, and following orders.”
Tag wondered how much longer he was going to have to endure these questions. It was getting harder and harder to remain patient.
“You seem more calm this session,” she noted.
He didn’t bother thanking her because he didn’t think it w
as a compliment.
“Have you had anything to drink today?”
This woman was unbelievable. He decided to mess around with her.
“Yes, I have.”
She blinked. He had surprised her.
“Was that because you were coming in here? Was it to calm yourself?”
“No. It was because I was thirsty.”
“Do you typically choose alcohol when you are thirsty?”
“No.”
“Why did you choose alcohol today?”
“I didn’t,” he pretended to be confused.
“You said you had been drinking.”
“You asked if I had had anything to drink today. You didn’t specify what type of drink. I had some milk in my cereal and a couple glasses of water after my run.”
She narrowed her eyes in true annoyance, “Are you attempting to purposely mislead me?”
“Why would I do that?”
She took a deep breath, “Let’s talk about the incident the other night.”
“What incident?”
“You chased your neighbor through the alley, apparently.”
Tag wanted to throttle Pahl.
“No,” he reminded himself to maintain his relaxed pose. “I most certainly did not chase my neighbor through the alley or anywhere else.”
She flipped through some papers, “I have the report right here.”
“May I see that?”
She handed the papers over and he glanced down.
“I actually chased a suspect who was climbing out my neighbor’s window.”
“You didn’t call for backup right away. Why?”
“I couldn’t get to my phone while I was running. When she stopped, I called it in.”
“She?” Hanson was delighted.
Tag rolled his eyes, “I didn’t know it was a girl until I got back to my neighbor’s place. It turned out she was running because she thought I was trying to hurt her.”
“Why would she think that?”
He held back a smart-alec remark only by reminding himself how bored he had been during his suspension.
“Were you behaving in a threatening manner?”
“Well, yeah, I was,” he couldn’t’ stop himself from demonstrating his disdain for her line of questioning, “I was chasing her.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly, “Why was she climbing out of the window?”
“Irrelevant to my case. She admitted it looked suspicious and apologized for it. I apologized for scaring her. That was the end of the incident.”
“What was her name?”
“She refused to give it for the report,” he handed the papers back to the shrink.
“Was the sister attractive?”
“Which sister?” he asked.
“The one you chased.”
He shrugged, even though he could have answered that in a heartbeat, “She had her hood up most of the time.”
Dr. Hanson wrote for a while. She stopped just as Tag was going to ask if he could step out to use the latrine.
“Do you think you would have chased the woman if you had known she was a female?”
“I’m not sure. I would have been less concerned for my neighbor.”
“Why?”
“Statistics, I suppose. Men are about ten times more likely than women to commit a violent crime.”
“So, you wouldn’t have chased her?”
“I would probably have stopped to call her sister because I would have thought I had a better chance of catching her.”
“You have her sister’s number?”
“She’s my neighbor.”
“Is the sister attractive?”
Tag felt like screaming, but he simply cleared his throat, “She’s a nice girl. Pretty.”
“So, why did you let the girl go once you caught her? The report says she climbed back in her sister’s window.”
“I never caught her,” he admitted.
“Why not?”
Tag couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face, “She’s quick.”
“You’re a member of the police force. You’ve received fitness awards. Yet a girl outran you.”
“Really quick,” he defended himself with a laugh. “Also, she hid, and I ended up going down a different way.”
Hanson sighed as if she were disappointed in him.
“Are we finished here? I have an appointment this afternoon.”
“With a woman?”
Tag was trying to figure out who he could complain to about these sessions.
“Yes. It’s a woman.”
“And is this one a friend or just someone to date?”
“Neither,” he clenched his teeth. “It’s my dentist. I haven’t been in for over a year, and, since I’m on leave, it seemed like a good time to set up a visit.”
“Oh.”
“Are we finished?”
“Yes,” she closed her notebook. “For now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“For your next visit. We’re going to be doing daily sessions for the whole week.”
Tag was definitely going to complain.
He called Lutz as soon as he got out of Dr. Aguilar’s chair.
“I’m not kidding around here, Sarge,” he insisted as he headed to the parking lot. “I want someone to look at the transcripts of our sessions. She’s asking about things that don’t have anything to do with the shooting.”
“She’s trying to delve into your psyche.”
“Oh, yeah?” he countered. “She asked me if I thought my neighbor was attractive, if I thought my neighbor’s sister was attractive. She asked me about my dentist, for Pete’s sake!”
“Your dentist?”
“Never mind.”
“Did you talk about the incident at all?”
“Briefly. She asked me what I thought about the victim. I was sure surprised when I realized she thought the real victim was Melissa Roberts.”
“You’re kidding.”
Tag knew that one would irritate Lowell. The sergeant was as disappointed as anyone when he had to use lethal force on a subject. As the boss, he had to weigh the options and the risks carefully. Implying that Roberts was somehow a victim was like saying he had acted impulsively and with more force than was necessary.
“Not a bit,” Tag assured him.
Lowell grunted, “I’ll see what I can do.”
CHAPTER SIX
Josie was glad for a day off mid-week. She usually didn’t have to work on the weekends, but she rarely had a full day to herself during the week. Molly had resolved that by asking her to come over to get ready for a banquet she was catering.
Josie didn’t mind helping Molly, but she asked to be allowed to wait until the afternoon. Molly laughed at her sister’s love of sleeping in and told her to be there by 12:01.
Josie let herself into Molly’s building and directed her gaze toward the stairs going up to the second floor.
“Hey,” she greeted the man seated halfway up.
She considered stepping around him with no more than that slight greeting, but she leaned against the bannister instead.
“Shouldn’t you be off saving the world? Or, at least, chasing people who climb out windows.”
Tag shook his head, “Afraid not. I’m on leave.”
She recognized the note of depression in his tone, “Sorry to hear that. You hit on the captain’s wife?”
“No,” he scowled at her. “I did my job.”
Josie sensed a good story, so she plopped down next to him, “And?”
“It was a woman – the perp. Now the shrink is sure I shot her because I’m a misogynist.”
Josie laughed, but sobered quickly when she realized he didn’t share her amusement.
“Sorry,” she hadn’t been sure he was serious until she saw his grim face.
He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked when he didn’t o
ffer any more information.
“She wants to see me every day this week,” he groaned, head in hands.
Josie really knew nothing about procedure after a shooting, but that seemed excessive.
“Is that usual?”
“Not really.”
“She has the hots for you.”
“Gross,” he nudged her with his shoulder.
“It happens,” she assured him. “Our dad’s partner fell in love with a patient. He didn’t ever act on it, but he had to ask my dad to take over her case.”
“Your dad’s a shrink?”
“Yep. You know how the cobbler’s kids go without shoes? Well, Molly and I are both nuts.”
He laughed then, “Copy that.”
She stood up, “Since you clearly have nothing better to do than sit around and feel sorry for yourself, you should come help us.”
“With what?”
“We’re making appetizers,” she knocked on Molly’s door.
He stood as well, “I can’t cook.”
Molly opened the door, “I was wondering when you would get here.”
Josie walked past her sister, “I was drumming up extra help.”
Molly cocked her head in question.
Josie turned and looked at Tag, “C’mon.”
Molly laughed, “You don’t mean him, do you?”
“See,” Tag folded his arms over his chest, “she doesn’t want me.”
For a moment, Josie thought she saw a small crack of insecurity in the armor of cockiness seen the past two encounters.
“Well, I do,” she grabbed his sleeve. “Molly’s no fun while we’re doing this. She’s so serious.”
“So I’m comedic relief?”
Josie washed her hands, “No. You’re grunt labor just like me.”
He bumped her with a hip so he could wash his hands.
Molly set them to making asparagus wraps.
“These look good,” Tag said as he wrapped the stuffing into a tortilla, “Do we get to sample them?”
“No,” Molly glared at him.
He raised his eyebrows at Josie, “I see what you mean.”
“Yeah,” she leaned toward him, “so if you taste anything, make sure her back is turned.”
Molly pointed a spatula at her sister, “Do not contaminate my food.”
Tag kept rolling the food, “Wouldn’t think of it, ma’am.”