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?
The psychologist jotted something on her notepad, then leaned forward in her chair. SWAT Team 1 is your family, arent they? Thats why youre being so hard on yourself, why youre so afraid of making a mistake. You dont want to lose your family again.
Stupid, intuitive psychologist! That was why the session with Dr. Kilpatrick had upset her so much today. Shed gotten Miranda to reveal a truth she hadnt even admitted to herself yet.
With her parents both gone and her older brother stationed in Afghanistan, Miranda had no one in Kansas City. No one, period. All she had was this job. Being a copa highly select SWAT copwas her identity. It gave her goals, satisfaction, a sense of community and worth. If she screwed it up, then shed really be up a creek. Of course, the holidays only exacerbated that reeling sense of loneliness she normally kept at bay.
And shed actually revealed all that to the doctor?
Ow! The pinch of sanity on her scalp told her that (a), she was tugging too hard with the hairbrush, and (b), she needed to get a grip. If she wanted to make the claim that she was a strong woman who deserved to have the job she did, then she needed to quit wallowing in these weak, feminine emotions that felt so foreign to her, and get her head on straight.
Decision made. Time to act. Emotions off.
Now get out of here, Murdock, she advised her reflection in the mirror.
After pulling her long, straight hair back into a ponytail, Miranda dressed in her civvies and bundled up in her stocking cap and coat to face the wintry air blowing outside. Night had fallen by the time she hurried down the steps toward the crosswalk that would lead her to the parking garage across the street.
Heading south for half a block, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her navy wool peacoat and hunched her shoulders against the wind hitting her back. When she reached the crosswalk and waited for the light to change, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket to check the time. Great. By this hour on Christmas Eve, none of the usual restaurants where she liked to pick up a quick dinner would be open. She tried to picture her freezer and wondered what microwave choices she had on hand that she could zap for dinner, or if shed be eating a bowl of cereal again. Why couldnt she remember these things before she got hungry and the stores had closed?
The light changed. She jumped over the slushy gray snow that had accumulated against the curb, and hurried across the street. That was another thing she missed with John being over in Afghanistan. Besides the bear hugs and patient advice, the man could cook. Shed never really had to learn because he had the gourmet talents and interest in the family. Miranda could easily recall the ham, mashed potatoes, baby asparagus, fruit salad and thick chocolate cake John had fixed for Christmas dinner last year. Her mouth watered at the memory of silky, semisweet frosting and light, moist layers of pure fudge heaven.
Her bowl of cereal was sounding pretty sad right about now.
She entered the parking garage and jogged up the ramp to the second level, where shed parked her red pickup that morning, long before theyd gotten the call to the Gallagher Security Systems building. As the mornings events passed through her mind, her thoughts took a left turn and landed on the image of GSSs boss, Quinn Gallagher, running the show in his poshly furnished, high-tech penthouse office.
The tailored suit and way he spoke, straightforward and concise, as though he was used to people jumping at his word, were clear indicators of his wealth and power. But the short dark hair with that one shaggy lock falling out of place onto his forehead, and those Clark Kentish black glasses said science geek. Surprisingly, thered been muscles under that suit coat. Shed seen them flex and push at the seams of his jacket when he picked up his little girl. Quinn Gallagher was an odd combination of a mana nearsighted nerd with guns and pecs hidden beneath his suit and tie.
Miranda grinned at the inside joke of her own making. Did Mr. Gallagher even know that he resembled a famous comic book character?
Whats so funny?
Stifling the startled gasp that tried to escape, Miranda halted at the big man climbing out of a truck parked in the row across from hers. The black KCPD sweats marked him as a friend, but recognition made it difficult to keep her feet from dashing to her own vehicle. Talk about lousy timing.
Hey. Lame greeting, but sufficient. Holden Kincaid needed no introduction. She shrugged off the sappy grin that had caught his attention. Private joke. About a comic book.
Its Murdock, right? He pointed to the proportionately sized silvery malamute circling the bed of his truck. Yukon, stay. Amazingly, the dog sat on his haunches as his master crossed the driving lane to extend his hand. Holden Kincaid.
I know who you are, Officer Kincaid. There was nothing but polite friendliness in his demeanor, so running away from the man whose return to duty was giving her such fits about her job would only broadcast the insecurity she needed to hide. With the work-out sweats, stocking cap and scarf tucked around his neck, she could guess he wasnt here to take her job this evening. Going for a run?
He nodded, thumbing over his shoulder at the dog. Ol Yukon there loves the snow, so any chance we can do a winter run, we go for it.
Keep it natural and conversational. Even on Christmas Eve?
His laugh clouded the chilly air. Liza said I needed to get out of the house for a couple of hours. I take it theres some Santa Claus stuff in the works with her and my son. So I took the dog out for a run, then came here to lift weights in the fitness center. I figure they need about another thirty minutes before its safe for me to go home.
Liza must be the wife. Friendly man. Obedient dog. Family at home. Mirandas isolation burned like a giant hole opening up in her belly.
Well, I wont keep you from Santa Claus.
Wait a sec. Murdock?
Yeah?
When she turned to face him again, his smile had turned into a wry frown. Im glad we ran into each other.
Right. So she was naive to think she was the only one who felt there was a competition between them. He was trying to make the best of an awkward situation. She should be mature enoughconfident enoughto do the same. She pulled her ponytail from the collar of her coat and tossed it down the middle of her back, busying her hands for a moment to calm her nerves. Yeah, well, it was bound to happen. I mean, youre back from leave, and Imalways here, apparently.
With something like a sigh of relief, Kincaids smile returned. Captain Cutler said you were a bit of a workaholic.
Guilty as charged. I like the rush of the job, I guess. I feel useful. Im in my element.
I know what you mean. I love being home with my wife and the baby, but Im anxious to get back to it.
Great. So she and Holden Kincaid were kindred spirits with similar talents. They might have been friends under other circumstancesif he wasnt gunning for her job; if she hadnt taken his in the first place.
She glanced around the nearly deserted garage and tried to make an exit again. Well, umMerry Christmas.