2. Val
TWO
VAL
“We’ve got an issue.”
I steadied my breath and attempted to look passive as I stared at my superior officer.
Keep your cool. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.
It had been over five months since the shit show at Kilbourn and Maypole that had gotten two men killed—an officer and the man who was stupid enough to throw himself in front of me and take a bullet to the back, doing irreparable damage before exiting his chest. I pored over the report.
He’d died as he bled out, pinning me to the ground.
That moment ran in an incessant loop in my head.
If he hadn’t stepped in front of me, my vest would have caught the brunt of the bullet, and while it would have sucked ass , I would have survived.
Probably.
“What’s the problem, Chief?” My finger scratched at something invisible at the side of my uniform pants in an effort to keep myself from tapping and exposing my nervous energy.
Chief Dunleavy sighed and dropped the thick file folder on his desk. His head hung while his hands rested on his hips. “You didn’t pass your psych.”
At that, I shot to my feet. “What?”
He held up one hand. “Relax. I know that wasn’t the news you wanted to hear.”
My heartbeat thrummed in my neck. I had to keep my emotions in check if I wanted to prove I was ready to be back out in the field. Losing my cool was the exact opposite reaction I needed right now.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I said. I smoothed back my tight ponytail, forced a smile, and sat back down on his old, scratchy chair. “I don’t understand.”
I did understand.
In fact, it was hard to say that it was all that surprising. Since the incident, I’d been relegated to desk jockey and had to attend weekly sessions with Dr. Brenner to ensure that I was “handling the situation” and mentally stable enough to return to my normal work duties.
The trouble was, I was fine . I didn’t need to be there. I went to every session, smiled, and attempted to prove just how fine I really was. Apparently, the insufferable Dr. Brenner, with his greasy smile and nervous tic of staring at my tits, felt differently.
I clenched my jaw and hoped my smile didn’t look as forced as it truly was.
Chief Dunleavy flipped through the pages in my file. “Dr. Brenner reported that you still claim there was a young woman at the scene.”
Familiar flames of anger burned in my chest. I nodded once. “Yes, sir.” I knew that girl was there, scared and in need of my help. I wasn’t fucking crazy.
“I have concerns that you recklessly ran after this mysterious person.” He sighed. “The doctor also shared that you are still carrying significant repressed emotions surrounding the shooting and subsequent casualties.”
I blinked once, twice. “I can assure you, Chief, I’m fine.
While it truly is a tragedy that Officer Bucholz lost his life in the line of duty, I understand that being a police officer is a risk.
As did he. I feel as though I have learned a great deal from that incident, and in the long run, it will make me a better officer. More efficient, aware, and proactive.”
See? I’m totally fine. Dr. Brenner is an idiot.
Chief looked me over—not in the skeezy way some men looked at me, but rather as if he was trying to decide if I was genuine or completely full of shit. He didn’t need to know that I’d practiced that exact speech in front of my bathroom mirror every day for the last five months.
“I believe you, Val. But it’s not up to me. That incident got a lot of unwanted attention, and we’ve got federal bureaucracy to deal with because of it. It’s gone up the chain.”
“Up the chain? What does that even mean?”
Just as I asked the question, a knock at the door interrupted us. “Ah,” Chief said as he looked behind me and waved someone into his office. “There’s someone here to discuss it with you.”
I turned and immediately recognized the dark suit of a federal agent. His suit was decidedly more expensive than the ill-fitting brown polyester that Chief wore. I rose and stood at attention to show my respect.
“Special Agent Neil Walsh, I’d like to introduce you to Officer Val Rivera.”
I reached out to shake his hand with a small nod. “Sir.”
The agent was at least two and a half decades older than my own twenty-eight years, best I could guess.
His eyes were a warm brown with small crinkles at the edges, and if it weren’t for the clean, pressed suit, I would have pegged him as more of a Mister Rogers type rather than a federal agent.
There was a softness about him that was friendly and inviting.
I’d bet money he used that to his advantage to get people to feel comfortable around him.
Even though I recognized that, somehow, it worked.
“Pleasure to meet you, Officer. Please, sit.”
I did as I was told and looked between the men.
What the hell was happening? I couldn’t possibly be fired, right? There’d be no reason to need a federal agent for that.
Chief cleared his throat. “Here’s the thing, Val ...”
Shit. It wasn’t often the chief didn’t address me as Officer or by my last name, just like everyone else. Small prickles creeped up the backs of my arms, but I willed my hands to remain steady and casual in my lap.
“You’re a damn fine officer,” Chief continued. “Honestly, she’s one of the best.” He shifted his attention in the agent’s direction, then back to me. “But this psych report isn’t helping matters. I can’t put you back on patrol if the department shrink doesn’t think you can handle it.”
“You have an application in with the ATF, isn’t that right?” Agent Walsh cut in.
Panic wound itself around my throat and tightened. “Yes, sir.” I raised my chin, meeting his gaze. There was a fierceness behind his friendliness after all.
“I reviewed the application. You’ve passed the ATF special agent exam, assessment test, physical, drug test, polygraph—all of it. Hell”—he flipped through my file as he spoke—“all that’s left is the panel interview.”
I nodded once. He hadn’t asked a question, and I didn’t need to give him any reason to think I didn’t know I was more than qualified to be a damn fine special agent .
Agent Walsh smiled to himself. “Just so happens that I am on that panel.”
A spark of hope bloomed in my chest.
Is this why he’s here? Is there some kind of special exception?
My knee bounced twice before I could stop it. I ran my hand over it and said, “I don’t know exactly what the psych report says, but I can tell you this. I was meant to be more than a patrol officer. I would be an asset to the ATF. I’m more than capable.”
Agent Walsh nodded. “I’m not sure I disagree with you. Your file is extremely impressive. Which is why I’m here. I’d like to offer a solution.”
“Some fucking solution ...” I slowed my car as I approached the faded, rusty stop sign. The squeal of my brakes mirrored the ache in my ass from driving for so long.
Four states and twenty hours later, I’d finally arrived on the outskirts of Tipp, Montana.
From my vantage point, I could see down the main street, and on the outside, it looked like a typical rural town.
Big enough to have its own medical center and a decent variety of restaurants and businesses, but still a far cry from the chaotic charm I’d come to love in Chicago.
Considering I’d just spent hours driving through the flats of Montana without seeing so much as a buzzard to peck my eyes out, the cozy town tucked under the base of a looming mountain was an ominous, but welcome, sight.
I eased the car forward, carefully checking street signs, looking for a place to stretch and pee before the last leg of my trip. The familiar whoop whoop of a squad car whipped my eyes to the rearview mirror .
I pressed a finger to one eye. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
I eased my car to the side of the road, lowered the window, and placed my hands on the steering wheel at ten and two.
Relax.
Be confident, not arrogant.
Normally I’d be ready with a smile and the confidence of knowing that I wasn’t getting a ticket. But instead of Officer Rivera, temporarily stripped of my badge, I was simply Val Rivera, a woman of color traveling alone in a rural town. An uncomfortable flush of nerves heated my skin.
The stocky officer waddled his way toward my window. “Evening, ma’am.”
“Hello.” I pressed my lips in a thin line.
“Never seen you around here before.”
My head whipped to the side as I eyed him. He rocked back on his heels with a self-satisfied grin. “Just... driving through.”
“Hmm.” We continued our staring match as he sucked his tongue over his teeth. “Might be best you go around town then.”
I released a quiet breath and planted on a fresh fake smile. “I’m actually just looking to stretch my legs, and then I’m looking for a place called Laurel Canyon Ranch. Maybe you can help me?”
“You got business up there?”
“Yes, sir.” When he waited for me to add more, I simply said, “Personal business.”
A sort of disgusted sound escaped his nose.
After a beat, he looked at me as though I was no longer a threat and rubbed his palms on his haunches.
“You stretch those legs and then take the loop out of town. Keep the mountain to your right and head out that way. Nothing for a few miles, but you’ll come up on it. ”
“Thank you, sir.” A deep wave of relief washed over me.
With a nod, he was trudging his way back to his squad car.
So much for a warm welcome.
I tracked the squad car with my eyes and pulled out behind it as he drove down Main Street. If I didn’t find somewhere soon, my bladder was going to burst. As the sun sagged behind the jagged edges of the mountain, crisp April air chilled my bones.
I scanned the small shops that dotted the main drag in town—a deli, bakery, cute mom-and-pop-type places that I assumed were part of all small-town life.
Only, oddly, most were closed and shuttered despite the early evening hour, as though the lowering sun had pulled a shade down over the entire town.