Page 7 of Merrick

Her frown came again. They had had the same discussion over the years with the same results.

“I am not sleeping with you again.” That is over and done with.”

He gave an impatient movement with his hands. “This is not about me trying to get into your pants.

You are a very good cop, no scratch that – you are an excellent cop and part of it is your focus and determination to stand for the victims. That’s admirable. But you don’t have a personal life. You are all about the job. I am surprised you are not facing burn out.”

Leaning back, she eyed him appraisingly. He was a solid cop himself and aside from the fancy threads and the well-groomed ash blonde hair, he was good at what he did and was steady. She had no hesitation of walking into a building with him because he always had her back. He was also a friend, whether she wanted him to be or not.

“How did the personal life work for you?” She pointed her bottle at him. In the last half hour while they had been seated, several cops had departed and more had strolled in.

The noise level was considerable, competing with the game on the big screen television in the center of the room. It was a cozy setup and a familiar one and she had missed it. “You have been divorced twice – the second marriage lasting only two years.”

He grimaced. “That’s because I’m still hung up you,” he said, half teasingly.

“We are cops and we make lousy bed partners and even lousier spouses. Our hours are insane. We see our partners at work, more than we see our partners at home. That has got to put a tremendous strain on any relationship, no matter how solid.”

“Is that why you never considered matrimony?”

“That among other things.”

“Life’s about taking risks.” He pointed out and had her laughing.

“Where the hell did you pick that up?”

“It’s true,” he insisted, “I don’t know how you do it. Being alone all these years, never having a solid relationship.”

“I happen to like my own company. And being alone is not the same as being lonely.”

“Now, who’s being philosophical?” He scoffed.

“I’m just being real. Oh, crap.” She groaned. “We’re about to be invaded.”

“is this a private gathering or can anyone join in? Hey Bert, another round for this table.” Detectives Holland and Willis pulled out chairs without waiting for an invitation.

*****

Her place felt strange and incredibly quiet. She had taken on a mortgage twenty years ago and never regretted setting down roots. The first apartment she had called home was in a downtrodden area and had had more than a few complaints.

But as she was hardly ever home, it had not bothered her very much. It had been just a place to hang her clothing and crash whenever she was off and that was rare. She was a workaholic and after leaving the academy, she had been determined to make her mark.

Shaking her head at the idealistic person she had brought into the ‘cop shop’, she closed her door and engaged the alarm. Since then, she had bought the house in a very nice neighborhood, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She was a cop and even though she did not announce it to her neighbors, because of how sensitive her position was, she was still cautious.

Taking off her boots, she tucked them away inside the hallway closet and unhooked her weapon harness. She had spent the greater part of the evening shooting the breeze with fellow cops and had forced herself to stay for the conversation and a few more beers.

Brad had cast her amused looks as he realized that she was dying to leave.

But she stuck it out and enjoyed herself. She had a week to recuperate, adjust to being back where she belonged before she took on another assignment. And this one was going to be a biggie.

Making her way through the hallway and past the entrance table, she went into the kitchen that she rarely used.

She was not domestically minded and in fact hated anything to do with housework. She was set up in a way that she could afford employing someone to come in and do chores. But she hated anyone in her space. And the fewer people she had around her, the better for her.

She bought paper plates and cups and ignored what Brad always said about adding to the pollution. She hardly ate at home, but when she did, she preferred to have fewer things to wash up.

Heading straight to the machine, she programmed coffee and sat at the dining table while she waited.

---