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Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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was finally going to see the chief of detectives, Josh thought. Given the way he knew she felt about getting things done on her own, this was tantamount to a last resort for her. His partner didn’t like asking for favors or help. But this wasn’t just a minor dustup; this was important. A lot was at stake here and it couldn’t be placed in jeopardy just because the acting lieutenant had turned out to be a taller version of Napoleon.
“Want some backup?” he asked her.
Bridget shook her head. She didn’t want him being collateral damage. “Thanks for the offer, but if this thing blows up on me, one of us needs to stay with the case to be able to get whoever gets put in my place up to speed.”
“Nobody could take your place,” Josh told her and although there was a smile on his lips as he said it, his voice was dead serious. She looked at him, somewhat surprised, not quite sure what to make of his tone. Or the corresponding warm feeling his words had created within her.
“Someone might have to. Howard wants my head on a pike,” she pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter what he wants,” Josh assured her with conviction. He fell into place beside her as she walked out of the squad room. “I’ve got your back, just like always.”
It wasn’t a statement, it was a promise.
She didn’t bother trying to talk Josh out of coming with her. Or to point out that he was putting himself out on the same limb. There were things Josh could be kidded out of and things that he couldn’t. This was one of those things that fell under the latter heading.
So all she could do was say “Thanks,” which she did, and pray that everything would turn out.
She prayed hard.
* * *
Chief of Detectives Brian Cavanaugh prided himself on knowing everyone who worked for him not only by sight, but by name as well. He also made it a point to be aware of their records and achievements, both good and bad. He considered them all members of his team. To Brian, they were more than just badge numbers, they were people. His people.
It was no small source of pride that his three sons had worked their way high up through the ranks because of their own efforts, not because of anything that he had done for them. They would have never asked him to intervene on their behalf and he would have never interfered in any matter between a detective and his or her superior—unless there was some sort of injustice.
In like manner, Brian was acutely aware of walking a very thin, narrow line every day that he picked up his shield and tucked it into his pocket. And he had sworn to himself that should the day someday come when he, knowingly or unknowingly, stepped off that narrow path, he would turn in that shield and walk away.
He was proud of the fact that, as of yet, that day had not arrived. He was determined that it never would.
Lost now in thought, searching for a word that persisted in eluding him, a noise penetrated through the fog around him. Brian glanced up from his report. The knock on the door seemed designed to give him a reprieve, however minor. He took it gladly.
Rotating his shoulders to alleviate some stiffness, he called out, “Come in.”
The next moment, he saw Bridget sticking her head in. She looked at him a little hesitantly.
Brian smiled warmly. He’d taken an interest in her, the way he had in a good many other detectives, when she had first gotten her shield. He’d known her to be a hard worker even before her true identity—like the identities of her siblings—had come to light for all of them. He and Bridget had exchanged a few words since her father’s connection to the rest of them had become apparent, but he sensed that she wasn’t comfortable in this new role fate had given her.
And now she’d come to him with something that was obviously bothering her. He found himself growing very curious. He rose to his feet, a habit instilled in him by his mother.
“Bridget,” he said warmly, her very name serving as a
“Want some backup?” he asked her.
Bridget shook her head. She didn’t want him being collateral damage. “Thanks for the offer, but if this thing blows up on me, one of us needs to stay with the case to be able to get whoever gets put in my place up to speed.”
“Nobody could take your place,” Josh told her and although there was a smile on his lips as he said it, his voice was dead serious. She looked at him, somewhat surprised, not quite sure what to make of his tone. Or the corresponding warm feeling his words had created within her.
“Someone might have to. Howard wants my head on a pike,” she pointed out.
“Doesn’t matter what he wants,” Josh assured her with conviction. He fell into place beside her as she walked out of the squad room. “I’ve got your back, just like always.”
It wasn’t a statement, it was a promise.
She didn’t bother trying to talk Josh out of coming with her. Or to point out that he was putting himself out on the same limb. There were things Josh could be kidded out of and things that he couldn’t. This was one of those things that fell under the latter heading.
So all she could do was say “Thanks,” which she did, and pray that everything would turn out.
She prayed hard.
* * *
Chief of Detectives Brian Cavanaugh prided himself on knowing everyone who worked for him not only by sight, but by name as well. He also made it a point to be aware of their records and achievements, both good and bad. He considered them all members of his team. To Brian, they were more than just badge numbers, they were people. His people.
It was no small source of pride that his three sons had worked their way high up through the ranks because of their own efforts, not because of anything that he had done for them. They would have never asked him to intervene on their behalf and he would have never interfered in any matter between a detective and his or her superior—unless there was some sort of injustice.
In like manner, Brian was acutely aware of walking a very thin, narrow line every day that he picked up his shield and tucked it into his pocket. And he had sworn to himself that should the day someday come when he, knowingly or unknowingly, stepped off that narrow path, he would turn in that shield and walk away.
He was proud of the fact that, as of yet, that day had not arrived. He was determined that it never would.
Lost now in thought, searching for a word that persisted in eluding him, a noise penetrated through the fog around him. Brian glanced up from his report. The knock on the door seemed designed to give him a reprieve, however minor. He took it gladly.
Rotating his shoulders to alleviate some stiffness, he called out, “Come in.”
The next moment, he saw Bridget sticking her head in. She looked at him a little hesitantly.
Brian smiled warmly. He’d taken an interest in her, the way he had in a good many other detectives, when she had first gotten her shield. He’d known her to be a hard worker even before her true identity—like the identities of her siblings—had come to light for all of them. He and Bridget had exchanged a few words since her father’s connection to the rest of them had become apparent, but he sensed that she wasn’t comfortable in this new role fate had given her.
And now she’d come to him with something that was obviously bothering her. He found himself growing very curious. He rose to his feet, a habit instilled in him by his mother.
“Bridget,” he said warmly, her very name serving as a
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