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Authors: Anne Frasier
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be out there, with the criminals?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yep.” She watched him, unblinking.
“I don’t live in the skyway,” he said. “My apartment complex is attached to the skyway. It’s easy. Convenient. And I don’t like cold weather.”
“Minnesota isn’t an ideal place to live if you don’t like brutal temps.”
“I transferred here.”
“From where?”
“Southern Minnesota.”
“Farm boy?”
“Farm country.”
“Cold in southern Minnesota too.”
“Not as bad as Minneapolis.”
They left the office and walked side by side down the hall toward the elevators. They made an odd pair with him in his suit, her in jeans and leather jacket. “Truth?” Uriah asked. “I don’t like breaking in new partners, which means I’m looking for a long-term relationship. That ain’t gonna happen if you live in a high-crime zone. Why invite trouble?”
She got the feeling that where she chose to live wasn’t his biggest gripe. He expected her to fail. He expected her to be out of there in a few days, and he thought the harder he pushed, the more quickly it would happen. “I have no plans to die soon, and I don’t have to prove anything to you. As you pointed out, after being held prisoner for three years I still had the resourcefulness to escape. I’d say that’s all the résumé you need from me. And it’s not as bad out there as you think.”
“I know how bad it is. And four months isn’t enough time to recover,” he added. “I’d still have my doubts after a year.”
She had her own doubts, if she was honest. If people could see inside her head, some might consider her unsound. Maybe that’s what he was getting at. A sound person wouldn’t be living where she was living. “I passed my mental-health evaluation.”
He smiled slightly. “Not that hard to do.”
Jude wasn’t like Ashby. She understood that. Not only because of who she was and what had happened to her and what those events had done to her core being, which was to muffle her and dilute her and forever change her, but also because the damaged substation that had led to the blackouts and the destruction of parts of the city was the very thing that had set her free.
Ashby had mentioned her safety, but the thing was, most people tended to leave her alone. Like the crazy person wearing headphones to block out the voices, she gave off something that bothered people, something that told them she was different. And when everything was boiled down, maybe she had nothing left to fear. Maybe that’s what really set her apart from everyone else. Her fearlessness born of ambivalence, not bravery, because she’d lived through some of the darkest stuff a person could live through.
Been there, done that.
Three Years of Torture and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a blur of movement as a body hurled itself at her, arms wrapping around, holding tight. Her mind recoiled, threatened to shut down. She reached for the gun at her waist, then stopped, realizing the arms belonged to someone she knew.
“Jude. My God, it’s good to see you back,” Grant Vang said. “I tried to call you. I left messages.”
“I got them.” She didn’t explain that she’d been avoiding him since his hospital visit. That she’d lost the skill of casual conversation and speaking to Grant on the phone would have been uncomfortable. She might find herself pretending for him, trying to channel the person she once was. For him. She couldn’t allow that.
Grant set her away from him, hands still on her arms while Ashby stood to the side, watching the exchange.
Ashby had been right about her and Vang sleeping together. A mistake, something that had happened before she and Eric got serious. “I’m glad you’re still in Homicide. Ashby tells me a lot of people are leaving.”
He smiled. “Where’m I gonna go? I grew up in Saint Paul—city dude through and through.” He linked his thumbs in his belt. “I
She nodded. “Yep.” She watched him, unblinking.
“I don’t live in the skyway,” he said. “My apartment complex is attached to the skyway. It’s easy. Convenient. And I don’t like cold weather.”
“Minnesota isn’t an ideal place to live if you don’t like brutal temps.”
“I transferred here.”
“From where?”
“Southern Minnesota.”
“Farm boy?”
“Farm country.”
“Cold in southern Minnesota too.”
“Not as bad as Minneapolis.”
They left the office and walked side by side down the hall toward the elevators. They made an odd pair with him in his suit, her in jeans and leather jacket. “Truth?” Uriah asked. “I don’t like breaking in new partners, which means I’m looking for a long-term relationship. That ain’t gonna happen if you live in a high-crime zone. Why invite trouble?”
She got the feeling that where she chose to live wasn’t his biggest gripe. He expected her to fail. He expected her to be out of there in a few days, and he thought the harder he pushed, the more quickly it would happen. “I have no plans to die soon, and I don’t have to prove anything to you. As you pointed out, after being held prisoner for three years I still had the resourcefulness to escape. I’d say that’s all the résumé you need from me. And it’s not as bad out there as you think.”
“I know how bad it is. And four months isn’t enough time to recover,” he added. “I’d still have my doubts after a year.”
She had her own doubts, if she was honest. If people could see inside her head, some might consider her unsound. Maybe that’s what he was getting at. A sound person wouldn’t be living where she was living. “I passed my mental-health evaluation.”
He smiled slightly. “Not that hard to do.”
Jude wasn’t like Ashby. She understood that. Not only because of who she was and what had happened to her and what those events had done to her core being, which was to muffle her and dilute her and forever change her, but also because the damaged substation that had led to the blackouts and the destruction of parts of the city was the very thing that had set her free.
Ashby had mentioned her safety, but the thing was, most people tended to leave her alone. Like the crazy person wearing headphones to block out the voices, she gave off something that bothered people, something that told them she was different. And when everything was boiled down, maybe she had nothing left to fear. Maybe that’s what really set her apart from everyone else. Her fearlessness born of ambivalence, not bravery, because she’d lived through some of the darkest stuff a person could live through.
Been there, done that.
Three Years of Torture and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.
From the corner of her eye, she caught a blur of movement as a body hurled itself at her, arms wrapping around, holding tight. Her mind recoiled, threatened to shut down. She reached for the gun at her waist, then stopped, realizing the arms belonged to someone she knew.
“Jude. My God, it’s good to see you back,” Grant Vang said. “I tried to call you. I left messages.”
“I got them.” She didn’t explain that she’d been avoiding him since his hospital visit. That she’d lost the skill of casual conversation and speaking to Grant on the phone would have been uncomfortable. She might find herself pretending for him, trying to channel the person she once was. For him. She couldn’t allow that.
Grant set her away from him, hands still on her arms while Ashby stood to the side, watching the exchange.
Ashby had been right about her and Vang sleeping together. A mistake, something that had happened before she and Eric got serious. “I’m glad you’re still in Homicide. Ashby tells me a lot of people are leaving.”
He smiled. “Where’m I gonna go? I grew up in Saint Paul—city dude through and through.” He linked his thumbs in his belt. “I
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