Page 28 of Shielding Aubree

And he heard the panic in her voice.

Shit.

"Aubree."

He turned around and saw her standing there in the same place, her face in her hands.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be an ass."

"It's not like that. I mean I don't think like that."

She shook her head. “I didn't want to argue." Her shoulders sagged forward. "I didn't want to make you mad."

He moved back through the water, hating the weight of four feet of chlorinated water dragging against him. "I'm not mad, Aubree. Not by a long shot."

"I was a total bitch to you."

"Whoa. No. No." As awkward as it was, he couldn't do more than slosh through the waist high water. "Aubree, look at me. Please. Look at me."

She cracked her fingers apart and he could see her eyes through the thin windows available to him.

For a moment he wondered if she hid like that when she was a child and feeling shy or feeling guilty.

"You don't have to... hide from me."

"Maybe," her voice faded a little, "I'm just hiding from the mess my life has become."

He reached her then, and before he could think better of it, he reached out and put his hands on her upper arms. She was wearing the long-sleeved rash guards to keep the direct sun off of her skin, but he could feel the strength of her body under his hands.

Aubree was a police officer for the state of New Mexico, and she had all of the training that went with it.

"What's messy, Aubree? Tell me."

"Messy?" She drew in a breath and let it out. "Let's start with the fact that I just got an email from the prosecutor’s office stating that unless we can provide concrete proof of evidence against a half-dozen defendants that doesn't involve my testimony, they might have to drop the cases against them."

Ruben narrowed his eyes, confused and frustrated for her. “They can't demand your memory back."

"Which is what I told them. The neurologists that came in and examined me have already gone on record with the court that my memory might come back whenever it feels like it. Or," she huffed out a breath, "it might never come back. I've gonethrough the cases that they're talking about. My reports are on point. I know how to write a report that will stand up in court. I have body camera footage. We've even got physical evidence to support the charges. I remember these cases. I've been quizzed within an inch of my life." She lifted up her hand and tapped the tip of her forefinger against her temple. "But because I'm missing twelve hours of a day that has nothing to do with their cases, their lawyers think that they can imply that my other memories can't be trusted either."

"That doesn't make any sense."

She smiled at his denial. "That's what I say. It's what the prosecutor says, but the judge wants to be cautious. Two of the cases involve murders. One is a stalking case which is already a tough sell because of the judge that it's in front of. But they're arguing that memory is subjective."

Ruben lifted a hand to the back of his head and scratched at a phantom itch. "But if they can't trust your memory, why aren't they making the case on your reports, physical evidence, and bodycam?"

"Because it's all linked to me and while they could put me on the stand to authenticate it and my evidentiary procedures, again it comes down to whether or not they can trust me since I've got that gap in my head."

Ruben heard all of the words and shook his head. "I can't blame you for being mad."

"But I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

He shrugged. "I'm fair game. You can yell at me if you need to."

"No," she shook her head, "it's not fair to you. And I am... sorry. You didn't need my mood today."

He smiled at her and then gestured off to the side of the pool. "I've had worse. It goes with the job."

"That's crap."

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