Most of them had gotten the hell out of there when Garcia drew down and his act of stupidity proved fatal. Emilio was still sitting a few feet away, a hand pressed to his bloodied side, grimacing in pain. Salazar and a couple of his lieutenants were with him, praising the kid for facing down crazy Garcia, as though the kid had taken him out himself. The little car thiefs street cred had just risen substantially, along with plenty of temptation for a rival gang to add him to their hit list.
And the cycle never ended.
Rowan holstered her weapon, feeling sick. Oh, God. I killed one of my own. Right here on my home turf, among the people Im supposed to keep safe. Could I have handled this differently? How?
Chase!
Startled, she blinked at Danny, who was right in her face, hand on her shoulder. What?
Whatever shit is going through your head right now, stop, he said in a low voice. You gave him every chance to give up. Hell, you almost waited a hair too long to draw down and pull the trigger. It was a righteous shooting. No one is going to dispute that.
The baby cop is right, mamacita , Salazar said in a loud voice. Luis was broken, man. He acted on his own to jump Emilio, and the Lobos wash their hands of him. There will be no retribution.
Broken, meaning Salazar had recently demoted him. She supposed she should feel relieved that Luis had already become a problem they wanted erased, or her East Side upbringing might not mean squat. Suddenly aware of several sets of eyes boring into her, studying her reaction, she clamped her mouth firmly shut and gave a curt nod.
Salazar waved a hand at his remaining followers. Vamanos!
No retribution. Staring at their retreating backs, she couldnt work up the gratitude. Eleven years on the force and shed drawn her weapon less than a dozen times. Never fired it outside
the shooting range, before today.
And today, shed killed a man. No matter his failings, Luis Garcia had a wife and six kids who depended on him. Her breakfast threatened to make a reappearance, but she managed to keep it down.
Chase?
Rowan turned, blinking at Captain Connolly. She couldnt seem to shake the fog that had wrapped itself around her brain. Sir.
What happened here? he asked matter-of-factly. His weathered face was calm, his blue eyes patient.
Quickly, she gave their supervisor the rundown, in detail. Danny backed her up, and the captain nodded.
All right. Looks like a clean shooting, but you know what happens next, he said kindly.
She did. Although shed never had to fire her weapon, much less kill a suspect, other officers had over the years. They all knew the drill. She exhaled a deep breath. I guess Im on leave.
Im afraid so. Connolly squeezed her shoulder. At least until the investigation is over. Itll probably be just a formality in this case, but it still sucks. Weve got things covered here. Head on back to the station, take care of your paperwork. Make sure all your is are dotted and the ts crossed. Then surrender your weapon and go home. Ill call you.
What about Albright? She gestured to her partner.
Ill temporarily reassign him pending the closing of the investigation.
Yes, sir. Damn, she hated losing a good rookie to another officer. Even if Internal Affairs closed the matter quickly, shed have to fight to get him back.
Take it easy, Danny said, trying to be reassuring. Everything will be fine.
Sure. Take care, and Ill see you.
She walked away, aware of eyes at her back, measuring. Wondering whether shed be the departments new head case, waiting to see if this would be what finally sent her careening over the edge. First the loss of her younger brother, and now this.
Climbing into the patrol car, she forced herself to start the ignition and calmly drive away when all she wanted to do was sit there and fall apart. Later, she promised herself. Shed pick up a six-pack of beer on the way home and let go where no one could see.
For now, compartmentalize was the word of the day and the only way to get through it.
Three hours later, Rowan finished the last of her mountain of paperwork, surrendered her pistol, and headed out the door, thankfully unnoticed except for a couple of buddies whod heard the news and stopped her to deliver brief pep talks. She felt decidedly naked without the comforting, familiar weight of a weapon at her side and just wanted to get the hell out of there before more of her comrades noticed and wanted to get the lowdown firsthand.
She hurried to her truck and fired it up just as her cell phone vibrated on her hip. With a sigh, she left the vehicle in park, retrieved the device, and checked the caller ID. This one she had to take. Hello.
Hey, its me.
In spite of herself, she smiled. Hi, me. Whats cookin? Her friend, FBI special agent Dean Campbell, never spoke either of their names on the phone. Paranoia was more than in his job descriptionit was embedded in his DNA.
Plenty. Ive got those Dodgers tickets you wanted, he said cheerfully. Meet me for a burger, usual place?