The Partner

“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 herself staring at David Kinner. A fellow S.C.D. officer, Kinner was rude, repulsive and tried his best to make every woman on the force feel unwanted. Risa read his lips as he leaned toward the cop on his right and spoke.

“Five butts, one brain…”

They’d almost come to blows the first time he’d uttered the insult. She and her friends, still in the Academy, had been passing his table in the cafeteria when he’d said the words just loud enough for them to hear. Risa had immediately questioned his manhood and his alleged affinity for farm animals, but her comeback hadn’t been enough to quiet him. He was persistent as well as stupid.

She ignored Kinner’s remark and stepped before the thin, pale woman who’d been married to Luke.

Melinda Rowling was in her late twenties, maybe early thirties at the most, but grief had done its job and at the moment she could have easily passed for forty. Her expression blank, her eyes red and swollen, she brushed a hank of blond hair off her forehead then dropped her hands to her lap, raising her gaze to Risa’s at the same time.

They’d talked only briefly at Christmas parties and the like. Not sure Luke’s wife would recognize her, Risa went to her knees and put her hands over Melinda’s. Too late, she remembered the dried blood that still painted her fingers. Melinda didn’t seem to notice.

“I’m so sorry,” Risa said, her voice cracking despite herself. “I tried to stop them, Melinda, I swear. I—I just wasn’t fast enough.”

She blinked at Risa with eyes as pale as her hair. “I’m sure you did all that could be done.” Her words were spoken as if by rote, dully and in a chopped-up fashion.

Risa didn’t quite know what she’d expected from Melinda, but this wasn’t it. Grief, for sure, anger, perhaps? She pondered the question for a second then suddenly realized the obvious: Melinda was doped to her eyeballs, which was probably a good idea, Risa decided.

“I’m sorry,” Risa repeated. “If there’s anything I can do…”

As Melinda nodded, Risa began to rise but she was pulled back abruptly, Melinda gripping her stained fingers to hold her still. “Did he say anything?” she whispered.

Risa looked into her tortured eyes and made an instant decision, lying without hesitation. “He said he loved you and Jason.”

A momentary confusion flickered over Melinda Rowling’s face, then it was gone.

Without another word, she released Risa’s hands. Her emotions in chaos, her cheek now throbbing, Risa stood unsteadily then turned to leave. The uniformed men parted silently as the five women walked through them. After they passed, the path behind them closed once more and the vigil resumed.

THE WOMEN WALKED Risa to the hospital’s lobby, arguing over who would spend the night with her. She let them yak until they reached the elevator for the parking garage.

“No one’s staying with me,” she said firmly. “I need a ride home and then I’ll be fine.”

Abby looked at her with worried eyes. “You can’t be by yourself tonight, Risa. You’re been through too much to be alone.”

Mei Lu concurred. “You need company.”

“I’ll be fine,” Risa repeated, “and besides, I want to be alone. I need to think about everything that happened.”

“But that’s the problem,” Crista replied. “You’ll think too much and get even more upset.” She stepped to Risa’s side and put her arm around her shoulder, squeezing her gently.

As usual, Lucy was the lone dissenter. “Come on, you guys, Risa knows what she’s talking about. Let’s let her work this out like she wants to. I think that’s for the best.”

The others looked uncertain but, one by one, agreed, albeit reluctantly. Exchanging a final hug, they went their separate ways, Crista the one elected to drive Risa home. They headed down an almost deserted Main Street, winding through Rice University until they came out at the freeway again.

Crista glanced in her rearview mirror then over at Risa. “You did the right thing tonight, so I hope you don’t start second-guessing what happened.”

“I won’t,” Risa said woodenly.

“Yes, you will,” Crista replied. “You already are. I heard what you said to Melinda.”

“I didn’t know what else to say.” Risa stared blindly out the window at the passing buildings. “I had to say something.”

“So you’re okay with how it went down?”

“I’m okay with it.”

The rest of the twenty-minute drive was silent until they pulled into the driveway of the modest town house Risa had bought the year before. She said, “Thank you,” and started to climb out, but Crista’s voice stopped her.

“You better prepare yourself, Risa. This could get rough, you know. I’ve seen the system chew up and spit out a lot of folks, and sometimes the truth gets lost in the process, especially when the IA guys get involved.”

“I know there’ll be a dog-and-pony show, but I’ll get through it. I’m a cop’s daughter—remember?”

As the words left her mouth, Risa winced. God, her father… He was sure to know what had happened by now. He was even more connected since he’d retired than he had been in the past; he heard the department’s latest gossip before Risa.

“All I’m saying is you have to look out for yourself, okay? No one else is going to do it for you.”

Risa stepped out of the car then glanced back through the open window. “I’ll be all right.”

Crista nodded then Risa turned and went up the sidewalk, the Jeep’s lights shining on her as she unlocked the door. Inside the sanctuary of her home, she closed her eyes and lay her head against the front door, a weariness sweeping over her that quickly found a path all the way down to her bones. Her eyes were dry, though. She wouldn’t cry, because she couldn’t. She’d been just a child when her last tear had been shed and she could still remember her father’s mocking voice as it had slid down her cheek. “Buck up, Risa! Taylors never cry.”

“Taylors never cry,” she repeated softly in the dark. As if waiting for an answer, she paused, but there wasn’t one, so she straightened and walked into the kitchen, going directly to the refrigerator. She wasn’t a big drinker, but she kept some beer on hand for her friends. Pulling a Tecate out, she popped the can open and was lifting it to her mouth when the phone on the wall rang shrilly.

“Ed Taylor, Senior” flashed across the caller ID screen, and her hand hesitated over the receiver. Two more rings sounded before she picked it up.

She said hello and her father answered her, his gruff greeting followed by a heavy, accusatory silence. She hated the games he played and usually she fought them, but tonight Risa didn’t have the strength. Something about life-and-death situations took it right out of you, she guessed.

“You heard the news,” she said into the void. “Thanks for calling to check on me.”

Her voice held a tinge of sarcasm, but like always, her father ignored it. “Bobby told me what happened.”

Bobby was his former partner, and he was as attached to his police scanner as he was the oxygen tank he had to drag everywhere, years of cigarettes catching up with him. Risa had been surprised her father hadn’t come down with cancer himself, just from sharing a cop car with the guy all that time.