In Pursuit of Justice by Radclyffe Read Free Book Online Page A

seconds, taking stock. They’d worked together for eight years. They respected one another. And they took nothing for granted. She stood in front of his desk as relaxed as she ever got, which was to say, hands loose at her sides but muscles coiled and set to spring. He leaned back in the leather chair, his one concession to comfort, with his summer-weight blended gabardine jacket on, tie tightly knotted beneath a snowy white collar, his handsome mahogany features inscrutable. He placed his pen on the desktop.
    “I take it you have something to say?”
    “Yes, sir. I’m ready to work.”
    He sighed. “Sit down, Sergeant.”
    She did, crossing one calf over the opposite knee, her hands motionless on the armrests. The last time she’d sat in this room, she’d come perilously close to insubordination and had nearly torpedoed her career. Catherine had been sitting beside her, and Henry had asked the psychiatrist to put her own life in danger to catch a psychopathic killer. Rebecca had disagreed with her superior—vocally and repeatedly. She still didn’t know why he hadn’t slapped her down that day but had put her in charge of the operation instead. The one time she’d seen him since then had been in the hospital, when she’d awakened to find him sitting nearby. She vaguely remembered him saying that she’d done the department proud.
    “I don’t suppose you remember that there are protocols for this situation.” Frye was his best detective, but she didn’t always play by the rules, at least not the bureaucratic ones. Most effective cops didn’t. But there were some rules he couldn’t bend.
    “I know that,” she replied. “I was just hoping to speed up the process.” She waited a beat. “And I wanted to check out the lay of the land.”
    “Spit it out, Sergeant. I’ve got a busy day.”
    “My desk is still out there. I want to make sure my job is, too.”
    Henry got up and walked to a small side table where an antiquated coffee machine stood warming a half-filled pot. He poured a mug full and answered with his back turned. “If things hadn’t turned out the way they did, you could have been suspended for ignoring any number of basic rules of procedure. You didn’t call for backup; you endangered yourself and a fellow officer, not to even mention putting a civilian at risk. Jesus. What a field day the press could have had with that if she’d been hurt. You were lucky.”
    The scar on her chest picked that moment to start itching. When it did that, she wanted to tear through the hard red flesh until it bled. She didn’t move a muscle. Calmly, she said, “Yes, sir.”
    “No one cares about that, now. You’re a hero.” He settled a hip against the counter and sipped the coffee. His wife bought the blend for him. He was grateful she’d consented to marry him for more reasons than he could count, and every time he poured a cup, he remembered it. Smart woman. “I can’t say you haven’t been missed.” He almost smiled at his own understatement. Jesus, when had he become a bureaucrat? “With you out and Cruz…gone, I’ve been hurting for senior detectives.”
    “Watts is experienced.”
    He studied her, remembering quite clearly her vociferous objections to working with—what had she called Watts—a lazy fuck-up? He’d give a lot to know what really went down out there between the two of them that night. Whatever it was, Frye was standing up for Watts now. “He’s not sergeant material. Here’s the drill—you’ll have to ride a desk until I have every piece of paper authorizing your return signed and in my hands.”
    The tightness in her chest began to ease. “I’m going to the range this morning. There’s nothing wrong with my shooting arm. I’ll re-qualify and get my weapon back, so I should be okay for street duty after that.”
    “Nice try, Frye. Not until the shrink signs off, and you know how slow they are.” He held up a hand when he saw the fire jump in her eyes. “But,