The Third Eye

by Jenna Rae

  “It’s okay,” she crooned. She let her cry for several minutes.

  Finally, Andi took a deep, shuddering breath and pushed her away with small, cold hands. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  She merely nodded. “I love you, you know.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Andi blew her nose and dried her swollen eyes. “Coffee?”

  “Only if you really, really do love me.”

  They shared a quiet breakfast of yesterday’s banana nut bread and strong, hot coffee while Andi talked about the upcoming spoken-word festival she was organizing for queer college students. She enthused about the students’ talents and griped about the minutiae involved in the project and the many people who wanted a say in how things were done but didn’t want to do any of the work involved in getting them done.

  Brenda let her talk. She’d work her way around to whatever had set her off in her own time. And if she needed to prattle on about her latest project first, so be it. People rarely started talking first about the thing that was actually on their minds, and she’d learned not to press them.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that maybe Tami Sheraton had tried to talk to her about something other than what she’d brought up. Maybe she’d been sounding Brenda out before getting to what she really wanted to say. The thought was appalling, because it meant she really had let the kid down. She pushed this aside for the time being to focus again on what Andi was saying.

  “So, anyway, I feel like I need to confess something.”

  She hid her surprise. She smiled and waited, unable to imagine Andi had ever in her life done anything truly wrong.

  “I loved Lauren. With my whole heart. As you know.”

  “I do know. She loved you too.”

  “I was lucky to have almost twenty years with her.” Andi sat back and pressed her lips together. She teared up again and had to wipe her eyes and swallow coffee before she could speak again.

  “Something happened?” Brenda prompted, struck by an idea of what that something might be. She kept her face carefully blank.

  “I could never love anyone like I loved my wife.”

  She offered a noncommittal sound and made sure her expression was receptive.

  “I was at the grief group—it’s funny, you just asked me about it.”

  She nodded.

  “There’s this woman there, Diane. She and I didn’t really hit it off at first. I don’t know why, but after a while I got to know her.”

  “I remember when you first started going. She started just before you. You thought she was pushy.”

  Andi laughed, and her suspicion was confirmed.

  “I still think she’s pushy. But—anyway, Diane lost her wife in Afghanistan. Marie died two months and three days before Lauren.”

  She made a sympathetic sound. She didn’t want to do anything that gave Andi an excuse to stifle her impending disclosure or to talk herself out of what she was feeling.

  “So we’ve been through a lot of the same stuff. Di—Diane—is a doctor. She works at the new hospital downtown. In the ER.”

  “High-stress job.”

  “It is. But she loves it. When she talks about it, you can see how much it means to her to be able to help people.”

  “Sounds a lot like my best friend.”

  Andi laughed. “What I do is different. I just give them a little community nest so they can fly when they’re ready. She saves lives.”

  She smiled. “So you and Diane like each other. A lot. And you feel guilty.”

  “I know it’s ridiculous. My wife has been gone for three years. So has Diane’s. We’re adults and don’t owe anybody anything.”

  “But.”

  “But I feel disloyal to Lauren. I feel cheap. I feel like it means what I had with Lauren is over for good, and it was just one part of my life, which it obviously is and was, but it’s hard to accept that.”

  “She’d want you to be happy. You know that, Andi. She loved you and she wanted you to move on. She told you not to spend the rest of your life sitting in the corner grieving for her.”

  Andi sat back. Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded.

  “You don’t need anyone’s go-ahead to let yourself be happy again, but if you want mine, I’m giving it. I love you. I was there when Lauren told you to be happy. I was there when she told you to be open to new love. I know this is what she wanted for you.”

  Andi nodded again.

  “What can I do to make it easier for you?”

  “You just did.” Andi smiled through her tears. “I know you’re right. She’d want me to be happy. She’d want me to find love where I could, with somebody who’s good to me.”

  “Yes, she would. And if Diane isn’t good to you, I will kill her and we’ll find you somebody better.”

  Andi laughed a release. She would be able to move forward with Diane. Whether they found happily-ever-after or not, trying to do so would be an important first step in her healing and living the rest of her life fully engaged.

  The twinge of sorrow Brenda felt was hers to deal with privately. What Andi needed was unconditional support and love, and she would give that.

  “She’s a good person.”

  “So are you.”

  “I’d like to clean out some of Lauren’s things, but I can’t do it by myself.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.”

  Andi’s smile was brilliant, her eyes shining with tears. “Not now. Not today. I don’t know when. Soon, maybe.”

  “When you’re ready, you’ll tell me. Today, next week, April, whenever. I’ll do what you need when you need me to do it.”

  “I know. Thanks, Bren. I really needed to see you today. You’re the only one who understands how it was.”

  “I’m here for you forever.”

  “Right back at you. Now get out of here. I have to get ready for the morning rush.”

  “Aye-aye.”

  “Finish this thing with your rookie’s killer, Bren. You’re losing weight and looking tired. I’m worried about you.”

  “You don’t have to be. This is almost over, love. I promise. And then I’m going to gain twenty pounds sitting behind my desk again.”

  “Good, you could use a little junk in that abbreviated trunk.”

  “If only I had a best friend with unlimited access to baked goods!”

  Andi laughed. “Message delivered, message received.”

  After a long hug and promises to get together again soon, Brenda strode back to her car with a lighter heart and hands burdened with a huge box of day-old pastries Andi had pressed her to take. She would, she decided, stop by the station and drop them off. She wanted to check in with her people anyway, and this gave her a good excuse.

  She drove downtown with a fluttering feeling in her chest. She knew it was good Andi was moving forward. It was healthy. It was appropriate. It was for the best. But it meant the closing of one chapter to make room for the next, and she could only try to understand how hard that was for Andi. It was hard to hear about it.

  Like Andi, she, too, had been suspended in grief and held on to the vain wish that Lauren would come back. Lauren would not be coming back. She was gone for good. They’d lost that magical time when the four of them made a family of their own and shared the little ups and downs of their days and weeks and months and years. It was all gone forever.

  She parked in the garage, and, bracing herself, jogged up the stairs to the lobby of the big new city building, greeting folks she knew. It was only seven in the morning, but there were plenty of people scurrying around. Shift change always meant a crowd. Plus, the city had many workers on a seven-to-four shift, trying to alleviate some of the traffic from downtown Briarwood to the surrounding neighborhoods.

  “Welcome back, Captain,” called one of the city managers from a distant hallway. She threw a wave of thanks and headed toward the stairwell. She didn’t want to give people the impression she was back at work, and she didn’t want to get caught up in a lo
t of idle chatter, so she took the opportunity to reclaim some lost muscle tone by avoiding the elevator and the inevitable gossip it would engender. Holding the giant box of pastries on the trot up the stairs practically made it exercise, she told herself with a silly smile.

  Ducking into the back corner of her station’s floor, she finally felt like she was coming home. The smell of the place was reassuringly the same. She was heartened by the way her dominion’s gray walls were brightened by posters and plaques, photographs of her officers, the Briarwood children’s sports teams, various fundraising events, picnics, barbecues, and the other events that made their team more than a bunch of coworkers.

  By the time she reached the breakroom, she was surrounded by officers and staff who wanted to know how she was, whether she was back for good and what treats she’d brought them. She let herself revel in their warmth and enthusiasm for a little while, knowing she was indulging herself and not caring.

  They needed to see her as much as she needed to see them. Because of her timing, she was able to see almost half of her officers. The night-shift folks stuck around for a little while and the day-shift folks hung around the break table scarfing pastries and guzzling coffee.

  She made sure she connected with everyone, asking about their cases, their families. She noted their mixture of gladness at seeing her and wariness at her stopping by. None of the officers questioned her about what she was doing or when she was coming back, and she didn’t know what to make of that. It was Maggie who finally beckoned her away.

  “How’s it going? Any word on who was really behind it all?”

  She laughed. “No fooling you, is there?”

  “We all know what you’re doing.”

  “How’s that playing in Poughkeepsie?”

  “Some worry you’ll get sacrificed on the altar of public relations or politics.”

  “Anything I should know about here?”

  Maggie pursed her lips, shaking her wild curls. “The usual. Gonzalvo’s wife is due next week. You sent them a lovely hand-sewn quilt from their registry. You’re welcome. Abbott’s getting divorced.”

  “Again?”

  “Again.” Maggie rolled her eyes. “Would you stay married to him?”

  She gave her assistant’s rounded forearm a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for getting the quilt, Maggie. You’re the best.”

  “Yes, I am. On that note, you wrote me a glowing performance review, which is on your desk in the red file full of papers I need you to sign.”

  “I’ll look at it now. Why aren’t Miller and Johnson signing?”

  “They are, but some stuff needs you. You’re not that easily replaced, Captain Borelli.”

  The shift to formality made her raise an eyebrow. Then she saw Maggie’s gaze flit to the side, and she turned around.

  She blinked. “Commander Young.”

  Tori, resplendent in a tailored black suit, shifted her weight to rest on one pointy-toed black leather boot. “Captain Borelli. I imagine Maggie has plenty for you to catch up on here, but when you’re done could you stop by my office?”

  She nodded. “Grapevine works fast. I just got here.”

  “That it does. You barely hit the stairs when I heard you were here bearing gifts. From Andi’s place, I’m guessing. Maggie, good to see you.”

  “And you, Commander.”

  As Tori strode away, Maggie plucked at Brenda’s sleeve. “I’m glad you came today. The whole station’s been holding its breath since you left.”

  She thanked her and went in to find her office cold and still and disturbingly neat. Johnson and Miller had labeled their respective inboxes and outboxes and crisis boxes, and there was an empty disposable coffee cup in the wastebasket. At least one of the lieutenants had worked late the night before. A second glance told her it was Johnson, who took his coffee black. Miller took his with four sugars and an abundance of soy milk.

  With Maggie standing over her, she perused the stack of paperwork in the red file. Within ten minutes she’d signed everything that needed signing and made changes on a few documents.

  “The boys want your attention now,” said Maggie with a grin.

  Johnson and Miller were wandering around the squad room. Johnson was talking to the officers, joking and catching up by the looks of it. He was clearly trying not to encroach on her. Miller moved about the space as if everyone in it were invisible. His gaze was locked on her, and she shivered slightly. He had the eyes of a vulture, avid and soulless at the same time. While the officers engaged with Johnson, they all avoided looking at Miller.

  She waved in the two men and spent a couple of hours troubleshooting cases that were clogging the system. Johnson and Miller were both stiffly formal with her for the first several minutes, but she was able to warm them up after a while. She got updates on the progress of their pending investigations, offered suggestions for a thorny interpersonal issue and commended both men on filling in for her.

  “I’ll be back soon,” she promised as they wrapped up their briefing.

  Miller escaped as quickly as he could, claiming he had a meeting with somebody whose name he mumbled. She let him off the hook, wondering if her investigation was putting him in an awkward spot with his cousin. She’d never really considered whether Sean Miller might be embroiled in a mess because of Dan Miller, but she needed to dig into that. She chatted briefly with Johnson, trying to gauge how he really felt about his new, temporary role.

  “Are you interested in at some point moving into this office or one like it permanently?”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That was direct.” He laughed. “I’ve been thinking about it, naturally. But I already feel removed from investigations more than I’d like. And I’m certainly not interested in playing in the viper league upstairs.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “You made the move from my job to yours. Captain, are you glad you did?”

  She made a face. “Sometimes. I can do a little more to represent our officers in this chair than in that one. It’s pretty removed from the work, as you said. That’s not much of an answer, I know.”

  She watched him decide not to ask her when she would be back at her desk. Instead, he thanked her and let her close their chat. He would be a good leader, she thought. He didn’t say everything he thought but was nonetheless sincere. He had integrity.

  Would it be a favor to encourage him to move up? It would be a favor to the officers under him, but she really wasn’t sure moving up was such a great thing for someone who cared about the job and the people who did it. His ambivalence let her off the hook for now, but at some point, assuming she was allowed to step back into her role at this station, she’d have to either encourage Johnson to move up or let Miller claw his way higher. She sighed, knowing the decision wouldn’t get easier with time.

  Like his cousin, Dan, Sean Miller was good at one thing—looking out for himself. Whatever damage he did to others he would forget or dismiss. He was part of what she thought of as the new breed of crook. They were all slick liars who manipulated the system as needed, to swindle, deceive, and manipulate people into doing their bidding.

  She took a deep breath and pushed the disturbing thought away. Just because she didn’t like some people, didn’t make them sociopaths.

  She handed the file of signed documents to Maggie on her way to the stairwell and thanked her, grateful for her insight and warmth. The glowing review she’d just signed really did reflect the value Maggie brought to the group, and one of the things Brenda wanted to do, once all of the current nonsense was resolved, was raise the profile of the support staff in the department. In such a macho environment, the office staff sometimes got treated like second-class citizens, and it was time for that to change.

  Trotting up the stairs to see Tori, she realized how much she was looking past the current situation. Not so long ago, she’d have had trouble doing that. As Andi and Tori had both pointed out, she had a tendency to develop rather singular focus on her caseload
and ignore everything else.

  Maybe one of the benefits of moving into her current role as captain was that it gave her plenty of practice juggling more than one priority at a time. She grinned as she opened the door onto the fifth floor and was surprised to see Commander Banks standing right in front of her. He held a cigarette in one hand and a yellow plastic lighter in the other. His eyes grew wide when he realized he’d been caught.

  “Captain Borelli.” His florid face burned even brighter. “I hope you know there was nothing personal in my questions at the hearing. I was doing my job, as I’m sure you understand.”

  She smiled. “If we don’t provide meaningful oversight, we allow the perception of corruption.”

  “Yes. Precisely.”

  She noticed his suit jacket had a frayed edge on one sleeve. His tie was too wide for contemporary styles. His shirt’s collar looked worn. For a wealthy man, he was looking a little run-down. She wondered if his lavish lifestyle was wearing on his wife’s pocketbook.

  “Any word on Donnelly’s death, sir?”

  “Nothing concrete. It may take some time to determine what happened there, and it’s out of our hands.”

  “Yes, of course. Do you think he was working alone, sir?”

  Banks gave a poor showing of surprise.

  “I’ve seen no evidence to the contrary. Now, if you don’t mind, Captain.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  She winked and held the door open for him, and he offered her a grateful smile that faded as he brushed past her and lit the smoke before the door had closed behind him. She masked her expression and went down the hall to find her ex-girlfriend.

  Tori’s office was two from the corner and faced the Pacific. She grinned, remembering the first time Tori showed it to her. She’d been excited and proud, and Brenda wished she’d been more supportive instead of feeling threatened by the change. If she had it to do over again, she’d buy Tori flowers to brighten up the large, gray space.

  It was empty when Brenda knocked, and Tori’s assistant Marcus, hurrying back from somewhere, rushed to let her in. They chatted briefly, and then Marcus held out a hand as though warning her of danger.