“We?”
“You don’t think I’d leave my partner to do this on her own, do you? We’re doing this together. I’ll drive you to appointments, and you can cry on my shoulder anytime you want.” He swallowed at the emotions clogging his throat. “You’re going to fight this because that’s what you are. You’re not a victim. You’re my warrior. And that’s what warriors do. They fight.”
She let go of him and took a step back. “Even to the death?”
“We’re not going to talk about that.”
“But it could happen.”
“And you could also survive this and live until you’re ninety.” He grasped her by her arms so she had to look him in the eyes. “You’ve got this. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known, and something like this won’t bring you down.”
“I wish I had your faith,” she said, clearly holding back more tears.
“So borrow mine until you find some of your own.” He swore again and rubbed her shoulders. “Is there anything I can do right now?”
“Yes. Leave my cubicle so I can empty my clip onto that target.” She motioned toward the hanging paper waiting for her to destroy it.
He gave a short nod. “I’ll be in the booth right next door if you need me.” He held up his gun and box of ammo. “I’ve got my own demons to shoot at.”
She smiled and put the ear protection back on. He left the cubicle and entered his own. Earmuffs in place. Gun loaded. He attached a paper target to the clip and sent it out a short distance. He aimed the gun at the center of the target and pulled the trigger, letting the kickback up his arm remind him that he was still alive. And for now, so was Sherri.
THE NEXT WEEK passed quickly as Sherri recuperated from the lumpectomy. She popped antacids while she waited for Dr. VanGilder to gather all the necessary information to determine what happened next. If the cancer didn’t get her, Sherri figured the ulcer that must be forming in her stomach might.
She hoped that the specimen removed from her breast had clear margins indicating that all the cancer had been taken. Perhaps she’d be done with surgery and could go back to her normal life. For now, she was staying at her parents’ home for the weekend. She couldn’t face an empty apartment after her surgery.
Mama knocked on the open guest bedroom door and popped her head inside. “Dez is here.”
Sherri groaned and propped herself up on one elbow. “I’m not in the mood for visitors. Could you tell him I’m sleeping?”
“I won’t lie to him. Not even for you. He came to see you because he’s concerned about you.” Mama’s forehead wrinkled, and she waggled her finger at her. “You’d be so lucky to have him for a husband.”
Sherri swung her legs over the side of the bed and massaged the area where the lump had been. It was still tender after three days, but the doctor had promised she’d be up and around soon. “Dez is a friend, Mama. Nothing more.”
Mama didn’t looked convinced. “I’ve seen how he watches you.”
“You’re imagining things. And besides, that sounds a little creepy.” Mama had to be mistaken. Had to be. Dez was a friend, a good one. There wasn’t anything romantic going on between them. Right? How could there be?
Mama raised one eyebrow at this, but shrugged. “He’s waiting in the living room. We’ll see who watches who.”
Mama shut the bedroom door, and Sherri rose to her feet. She pulled on sweatpants and a zip-up jacket to cover the ratty T-shirt she wore. She hadn’t showered since the surgery—too afraid to get the sutures wet—so she probably looked like a wreck. Not that Dez would care. He’d seen her in bad shape before. Like last summer when they’d played the softball championship game that had gone into extra innings. By the time it was over, they hadn’t just lost the game, she had sweat rolling down her face, her hair was damp and her softball shirt and pants were covered in dirt because she’d slid into home plate.
She opened the bedroom door and ambled down the hall to the living room, where Dez and her dad sat in matching recliners, discussing the Detroit Tigers. Conversation stopped when she entered the room, and Dez stood suddenly and motioned her to the sofa. His eyes never left hers as she walked across the room and took a seat. Dez moved to sit next to her and looked her over. “I would have come sooner, but the captain had me on an assignment and I couldn’t get away. How are you?”
She tried to find the words, but unable to, she merely shrugged. Dez smiled at that and smoothed her hair away from her eyes. She backed up at his touch. He frowned and dropped his hand into his lap. “Cap can’t wait for you to come back.”
Yes, let’s focus on work rather than whatever it was that swirled around them. “There’s been developments on the raid? Tell me.”
He glanced at her dad and leaned in closer. “The ballistics report came back with interesting anomalies.”
She’d had a feeling that would be the outcome. Call it a hunch or whatever, but she’d suspected that there had been something shady going on. At least, shadier than the drug operation. “The ammo belonged to one of us, right?”
“Department-issued bullets were found on scene. And not all of them came from our guns.” He peered into her face and frowned. “Are you sure you’re well enough to talk shop?”
“I’m recuperating, not dead.” She could talk without hurting something. “What about the tests run on the drugs we found on scene?”
Dez leaned closer to her and dropped the volume of his voice. “Consistent with what we found before. It’s the same kind of dope, so the same dealers.”
Sherri went and stood at the large bay window, scanning the front yard. “It’s coming in right under our noses,” she said. She turned back to Dez. “And they’re getting help from one of us.”
He frowned at this. “Someone with Border Patrol?”
She’d bet money that it wasn’t one of their team specifically, but she couldn’t rule it out. Good people did dumb things all the time. “Uh-huh. I’d stake my reputation and job on it. What’s your gut telling you?”
“That we still have more questions than answers. And I don’t want to make any assumptions that could cost us or set our investigation back.”
She sighed. “Something else has been bothering me for the last few days. Giroux said that he knew who had been present at the raid as well as who wasn’t. What if our inside guy didn’t show up that day? Was there anyone expected to have been there who wasn’t?”
Dez pulled out a small notebook and pen and made a note. “That’s good. Maybe our mole wanted to be out of the way of flying bullets and passed on being there. I’ll look into it.” He shifted from one foot to the other. “When are you coming back to work? I’d rather we did this together.”
That was the big question. She was ready for the job, tender muscles or no. She needed to be on this case, on her other cases. What she didn’t need was to be sitting and doing nothing except thinking about what could be happening in her body. She craved the routine of waking up every morning and driving to the office. And part of her feared that Dr. VanGilder would find something that would take that away. That normalcy. “Tuesday afternoon I have my appointment with VanGilder. I’ll have some answers after that, at least.”
“Good. The office isn’t the same without you.”
She shook her head but smiled at this.