violent crimes and missing persons.
Haug spat again. ‘I know you fought like hell to earn a spot on this programme. Your shooting skills qualified you – you’re the best in the group, no question. And I’ll admit to having a lot of reservations about accepting you. In my experience women don’t have what it takes to be SWAT officers.’
‘Glad I proved you wrong.’
‘You’re the second woman I’ve ever trained. The first broad was a world-class cunt.’
Haug didn’t look to see if he’d insulted her. He didn’t care if he had. The man spoke his mind and didn’t give two shits whom he offended. She found his attitude refreshing.
‘This broad demanded her own locker room,’ Haug said. ‘Kept bitching about the workouts, that she wasn’t as strong as a man and didn’t have the same endurance and stamina. All that happy horseshit. The truth was she couldn’t hack it. That didn’t stop her from trying to file a discrimination lawsuit, which the court rightfully shoved up her ass.
‘You, on the other hand, didn’t request anything special. You slept, ate, showered and dressed with the boys. You worked out the logistics on your own. You didn’t burden me with whatever feminine problems you had, and on top of that you survived pretty much everything I threw at you. And not once did you bitch or buckle. You kept your yap shut and your ears open. You worked your ass off.’
Haug spat again. ‘Heard you’re a doctor. Got a degree from Harvard in criminal psychology.’
Darby nodded.
‘Never had a doctor – or a forensics fellow, for that matter – do what you did back there. They teach you to shoot like that at Harvard?’
‘I’ve put in a lot of practice at the firing range.’
‘It shows. You took down all of the bodyguards, you prevented Flynn from reaching the chopper and the way you took him down was pretty goddamn impressive. You remember what I told you about firing your weapon?’
‘Every bullet has a lawyer’s name on it.’
‘Right. Now if what happened here tonight had been an actual hostage situation, you’d breeze right through Internal Affairs like shit through a goose, but that doesn’t mean some lawyer won’t come after you. Lawyers don’t give a crap about what’s right, or that you risked your life. When blood is spilled there’s money, and these lawyers will crawl up your ass and hibernate there until they’ve leeched every last penny. You’re quick on the trigger, so you best keep that fact forefront in that thick Irish head of yours, understand?’
‘Understood.’
Haug held open the door to the front office. ‘You can watch my back any day of the week, McCormick.’
3
Darby dropped off her field gear and weapons at the vacant front desk and walked rubber-legged into the locker room.
Her lab partner, Jackson Cooper, sat on one of the benches bolted to the floor between rows of steel-grey lockers. The hard, knotted muscles in his back and shoulders moved underneath the dark blue fabric of his short- sleeved polo shirt as he thumbed through a wrinkled issue of
‘You always hang out in men’s locker rooms?’ Darby asked, unbuttoning her flak jacket.
Coop didn’t look up from the magazine. ‘Your instructor, GI Joe, told me to wait here. Fortunately I found this on the floor to keep me entertained. Did you drop it?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Some sort of home invasion in your old hometown, Belham. Marshall Street. Woman and a teenage boy tied up to kitchen chairs. Woman’s dead, kid’s at the hospital.’
‘What are their names?’
‘Amy Hallcox. I don’t know the boy’s name.’
Darby didn’t know the family but she had grown up less than two miles away from Marshall Street. She remembered the neighbourhood as an area of big old New England-style Colonial homes with ample land and wooded backdrops with trails leading to Salmon Brook Pond. Doctors and lawyers had once lived there. It was – at least when she was growing up – considered one of Belham’s safer places to live.
Darby sat on a bench and began unlacing her boots. ‘Who’s the lead?’
‘Guy named Pine.’
‘Artie Pine?’
‘That’s the man in charge.’ Coop looked up and stared at her, one eye blue, the other a deep green. ‘How do you know him?’
‘Artie started off as a patrolman along with my father. Then he became a detective and was shipped off to… Boston, I think.’
‘Christ, you stink.’
‘I’ve been living outside in this heat for three days.’
‘Most women I know spend their vacation relaxing on a beach – take Samantha, for example.’
Darby tossed her boots into the locker. ‘Who’s Samantha?’
‘Samantha James, Miss September.’ He held up the centrefold. ‘After spending her day rescuing puppies and kittens from kill shelters in her hometown of San Diego, she unwinds at the beach with a beer and a good book. I bet she enjoys reading the fine literary novels of Jane Austen.’
Darby laughed. ‘How do you know about Jane Austen?’
‘This woman I’m dating, Cheryl? She’s really into Jane Austen.’
‘Every woman is.’
‘No, I mean she’s
Darby smiled, thinking about Colin Firth as Mr Darcy.
‘You’ve got that same dreamy look Cheryl gets,’ Coop said. ‘What am I missing?’
‘You wouldn’t understand. Go back to your picture book.’
Darby stood and tossed her balled-up socks into the hamper.
‘Nice shot. How are things going with the yuppie investment banker?’
‘Tim and I are no longer seeing each other,’ she said, working the wet T-shirt over her head.
‘And why is that?’
‘Typical excuses. I’m really into my career. I’m not ready to commit. I’m –’
‘Gay.’
‘It’s just as well.’
‘That you found out he’s gay?’
‘He’s not gay, you dink. Tim’s a nice guy, but we really didn’t click. Check this out.’ Darby grabbed her belt buckle with one hand and removed a compact knife. ‘There’s also a razor wire, compartments to hide things and –’
‘I can’t wait until you get married. Your wedding list’s going to be
‘No need to buy this. I get to take the belt home with me.’
‘Congratulations,’ Coop said, his gaze dropping back down to the magazine.
Darby slid out of her trousers and stood in front of him dressed in a black jogging bra and a pair of training shorts. She didn’t feel self-conscious. Coop had seen her plenty of times dressed like this. They worked out together at the gym and often went running through the Public Garden after work.
And for the past two weeks she had refused to use the women’s locker room. She’d dressed here, in this quiet corner, while men stood in the other aisles. They sat and walked naked to the showers. These alpha men had barely given her a glance or nod. Any sexual energy they’d had at the start had quickly been channelled into surviving ‘The Yellow Brick Road’ and whatever other physical tortures Haug threw at them.
