to the North sector. Marcus Wade will be in South. And Sergeant Fitzpatrick will be encouraged to take early retirement along with Mitchell Price.”
Taylor felt the fury rise in her gut. This woman was past power-hungry, she was giddy in her joy at Taylor’s misfortune. Delores handed her the papers.
“ You can tell them. I’m sure it will sting less coming from you. You’ve taken such good care of them all this time. Maybe you’ll learn to keep your alley-cat tendencies out of their hair now so they can try to move on with their lives. You will report for your psychiatric evaluation Monday morning.”
Taylor was mute. A million thoughts raced through her mind. The most prevalent was don’t get yourself fired. You can fight this. Her actions are unwarranted and possibly illegal. Just don’t get yourself fired.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
Taylor dragged her eyes to the Oompa’s face. The bitch had the audacity to grin.
“You will be bumped down. Two grades. You’re a detective again.” The Oompa leaned her stubby hands on the desk, leaned in toward Taylor, hissed, “You’re damn lucky I didn’t get you put back out on the street. Maybe if you learned to think like a cop again you’d realize that we all have to follow the law.”
Taylor felt her mouth open, knew if she left it open, she’d say something she’d never be able to take back. She didn’t know if this was for real, if Delores Norris had enough power to make these things happen. Back to being a detective? Bumped two grades? Holy shit. She snapped her teeth together with an audible click that make the Oompa smile wider. She knew the control it was taking Taylor not to mouth herself right out of a job, was hoping Taylor’s famous restraint would fail.
No. Taylor refused to let this harridan win. She took the papers, turned and left the office.
“What are you going to do?”
Baldwin was steaming mad, stalking their back deck as Taylor tried to sip a beer. The lightning bugs were putting on a show. The soft spring air glittered with humidity, the promise of a storm. The grass seemed greener in the gloaming, the bark of the trees black against the verdant lawn. A rabbit nibbled at the edges of tall grass, taking advantage of a spot where the lawn mower couldn’t quite reach.
“You can’t let this happen. What are you going to do?” he asked again.
Taylor shook her head. “My hands are tied. The team has been split up. Price was practically fired. Fitz is seriously considering the early retirement. I’m at a loss, Baldwin.” She stood up, went to the railing. Words were failing her. She was on the verge of tears. Frustration always brought her emotions to the surface, this moment was no different. She took a few deep breaths and tried to focus.
She pointed at thin air. “Do you know this spider has been out here every night this week, trying to set up a home? He’s like a camper pitching his little tent to get out of a raging storm. He runs around the edges of the web, desperate to get it built, waits and waits and waits for a gnat or moth or lightning bug to fumble their way into the sticky edges. All that work, to sit and wait, hoping for a meal.”
She took a broken branch from the tree, used it to break apart the web. The spider scuttled away. “All that work,” she repeated.
Baldwin crossed to her, took the branch and laid it on the railing. He turned Taylor to face him, his voice soft. “Seriously, babe, what are you going to do?”
Taylor looked into his emerald eyes and felt the despair build in the pit of her stomach. She turned away, looked out into the woods. Took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders.
“Baldwin, there’s only one thing I can do. I have to fight.”
