That, apparently, she could do. Needing no more encouragement, the twenty-something female officer climbed up on the desk and pulled herself back up into the ventilation duct in a skilled combination of pull-up champ and gymnast.
Shesdifferent, isnt she? Quinn observed.
Like I said, Murdock is gung ho. Shell get the job done.
Michael. Quinn usually found his instincts about people to be unerringly accurate. I have another favor to ask of you. Just how much faith do you have in Miranda Murdock?
Michaels blue eyes narrowed. Perhaps hed just had a similar brainstorm. Youve supplied my team with nothing but the best equipment since we first started working together. Your vest design saved my life from a bullet once. I figure I owe you.
Then I have a proposition for you. Quinn scooped Fiona into his arms, drawing her attention away from the dusty blonde angel and the grate that had closed over their heads. We do.
Chapter Two
Miranda stilled her breathing, calmed the twitchy urge to blink and squeezed the trigger of her Glock 9 mil, landing five shots, center mass, through the paper targets chest. Then just for good measure, and because the accuracy score of her shooting range trials was one thing she could control, she angled the gun and put a hole through the paper targets head.
You shouldnt be alone at Christmas, Dr. Kate Kilpatrick advised. The police psychologist was always full of advice during their sessions. If your brother is still over in Afghanistan
He is.
then maybe you could volunteer at one of the city mission shelters, visit a shut-in in your neighborhood or invite a friend over for lunch.
And just which of her friends would be available on Christmas Day? Certainly none of the men on her team. They all had familieswives, children, in-laws. Theyd be real gung ho about giving up holiday family time to keep the odd man out on their team from being alone on Christmas Day. Lonely was one thing. Pity was another.
Miranda pulled off her earphones and pushed the button to bring the hanging target up to the booth for a closer inspection. Instead of heeding Dr. Ks recommendation to find some company after her mandated counseling session that afternoon, Miranda had come to KCPDs indoor firing range in the basement of the Fourth Precinct building to blow off steam.
All that touchy-feely stuff Dr. Kilpatrick wanted her to talk about got stuck in her head and left her feeling raw and distracted when they were done. Randy Murdock was a woman in a mans world. Her brother, John, a KCFD firefighter whod reupped with the Marines after the love of his life had married someone else, had raised her to understand that when the job was toughlike being a part of KCPDs SWAT Team 1that what she was feeling didnt matter. Four other cops, and any hostages or innocent bystanders, were counting on her to get the job done. Period.
No warm fuzzies allowed.
Nodding with satisfaction that her kill rate had been 100 percent, Miranda sent the target back and cleared her weapon.
What are you thinking? Dr. Kilpatrick asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.
That Im not the only person with such a nonexistent home life that Im available for an appointment the afternoon before Christmas.
Ouch. Observant though it was, Miranda regretted the smart-aleck remark as soon as shed said it. But the therapist let it slide right off her back with a poised smile. There you go deflecting the focus off yourself again. Deftly done, too. I could write an article about your classic avoidance tendencies. Always striving to please someone else instead of working toward your own goals. Using work or physical activities to avoid thinking about your feelings or dealing with the loneliness.
Sharp lady. Miranda hated that the police shrink might be onto something there. So why are you here at four oclock on Christmas Eve, Doc?
To see you, of course.
Sorry about that. Miranda pushed herself up out of the cushy seat. Wed better wrap things up then, hmm?
Miranda, sit. Dr. Kilpatrick wore a maternal-looking frown now. And though shed never known her own mother, or maybe because of that, it made Miranda feel so unsure of how she should respond that she sank back into her chair. Youre just as important as any of the other officers, detectives and support staff here in Kansas City.
Yeah, thats why Im the low man on the totem pole on my team.
The maternal vibe became a supportive pep talk. Thats nonsense. Youre a highly qualified sharpshooter. You passed all the same rigorous physical and mental exams as the other members of your team. Other than chain of command, you know it takes all five of you working together equally and complementing each others strengths to make SWAT Team 1 the success it is.
Miranda released the magazine from the Glocks handle and pulled out the remaining blanks. Then she reloaded the clip with 9 mm bullets from the ammo box on the shelf in front of her and ensured her gun was in proper working order before returning it to the holster strapped to her right thigh.
She was in the locker room showering when more of the conversation shed had with the psychologist started replaying in her head.
Dr. Kilpatrick had the patience of a saint. She could ask a question and wait. But the ongoing silence in the psychologists office finally got to Miranda, and she blurted out one of the few things that scared her. Holden Kincaid is coming back.
Kincaid? I know several Kincaids on the force. Which one is he?
Hes the guy I replaced on SWAT Team 1 when he went on paternity leave. He and the guys are all pretty close. The random confession had sounded like polite conversation to fill the silence at first. But once one insecurity was breached, others came out. I mean, even if I prove Im as good at this job as he is, possibly even better, what good does that do me? If Captain Cutler and the guys resent that Im there instead of him, that messes up our efficiency. Id feel like a real usurper for being there. But if I transfer off the team, or get cut because Kincaid is a better man
She turned off the hot water and hugged her arms around her naked body as the water ran down the drain and the locker rooms cool air raised goose bumps across her skin. If Dr. Kilpatrick wasnt so good at her job, then Miranda might not still be shaking from the embarrassing accuracy of the psychologists next question.
Do these self-esteem issues go back to that incident this summer when the Rich Girl Killer attacked you?
He wasnt after me. He wanted Sergeant Delgados girlfriendhis wife nowbecause she could ID him.
I read Delgados report myself. He said you slowed down the RGK long enough for him to get there to save his wife from being murdered.
Backhanded praise was no better than a reprimand. My job wasnt to slow him down. It was my job to stop him. I failed. He got the drop on me, bashed my head in and I failed.
Theres a reason its called a team. It takes all of you, working together, to complete your mission. Youre there to complement each others strengths, and, on certain days, compensate for a weakness. Every man on that team knows that. Every man has been where you are. No one blames you for having an off day.
That indulgent, dont-be-so-hard-on-yourself tone only made the self-doubts whispering inside Mirandas head shout out loud. You know its different when youre a woman, Doc. Good isnt good enough. If I cant perform when my team needs me to, then why the hell should Captain Cutler keep me around?