Page 15 of Island Homecoming

Frasier’s scowl only deepened. “That’ll be up to Caldwell and the state guys.”

“Right.” She heard the unspoken directive to write up the incident. Do her job and stop worrying about decisions that were outside of her control. She sat down on the folding chair, put it all on paper, reviewed it, made some clarifications, and then signed and dated her statement.

“All right.” Her chair scraped against the concrete flooring. “I’m going back out.” She handed him the notepad, her hand trembling.

“Problem?”

She’d been so focused on the report, she hadn’t realized she was chilled after sitting in the air-conditioned office in wet clothing. “Nothing dry clothes won’t fix.” They both knew going outside, even in the rain, would be better than the cool air in here.

“All right.” His gaze dropped to the report he held and she headed for the door.

“Keller!” She turned back. “One last question,” he said, his eyes skimming over the page. “You never drew your weapon.” His brown eyes pinned her.

“There was no reason to do so,” she said.

Frasier rocked back in the chair making it squeak. His gaze roamed over the monitors and then landed back on her. “Girl Scouts didn’t drop those drugs on our beach, Keller. You need to be ready to use deadly force.”

With an effort, she held her ground. Frasier was the chief’s right-hand man. He followed the chief’s example when it came to leading people, which leaned more toward teaching instead of scolding a person without cause.

“I am prepared.” It wasn’t much of a lie. “I’m good,” she added. She could see he wasn’t convinced. “Did the guy get into the boat? No. And no one breached the warehouse either. I’m going to go back out to finish my shift.” She hated how defensive she sounded.

“Ease up. I’m not your enemy,” Frasier said.

“Never thought you were.” Jess reached for the door, ignoring the low grumbling from Frasier.

“Hang on.”

There were times when Jess resented being just another cog in the justice system. She wasn’t proud of her occasional urges to rebel against her superiors, but she couldn’t ignore it either. Control was important to her. As was recognizing the moments when she could responsibly push the envelope of the essential hierarchy. This wasn’t one of those moments. “Yes, sir.”

“Come on, Jess. You’ve known me for the better part of twenty years.” He leaned forward, the monitors forgotten. “I heard about the incident in Key West. Are you okay?”

She glanced away, wishing she could get back out there.

“The warehouse is covered,” he said quietly.

She relented. She couldn’t afford to alienate any more friends than she already had. Frasier, with his constant dedication to the community, had been a big inspiration when she’d been thinking of career paths.

“Everyone says so.” She took a breath, desperate to mute her internal frustration. “I passed all the psych evaluations. My sergeant was happy to get me back out on patrol. I’m the one who stalled out. Took leave.” She forced herself to meet Frasier’s knowing gaze. “I lost my confidence.”

“It happens.” His compassion nearly took her out at the knees.

“How much do you know?”

“The broad strokes were in the background report sent over from the Guardian Agency. The state police required Caldwell to deliver resumes and background checks for everyone on this assignment.”

She appreciated his candor. “Good to know no one is worried about me, specifically.”

“But I am. Worried,” Frasier admitted. “Why did this incident rattle your confidence? The report said the shooting was justified.”

She shrugged. “It was a little too close to home.” Or maybe too close to the heart. “The shooter was targeting a good friend of mine.” She pushed away the memories, the useless cycle of what if. “The takedown, saving her life, was a team effort. Firing my weapon was the right thing to do, but something about it just echoes in my head. People kept reminding me it takes time.”

“That’s right.” He drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Normally, I’d say it’s more worrisome if you weren’t rattled. This island isn’tyournormal anymore. So here we are.” He spread his hands wide. “Caldwell said you didn’t want to carry the gun.”

“I’m not afraid of it.” She kept still when she wanted to fidget. “Some distance and a change of scenery felt like the right option. It’s already helping,” she insisted. “I wouldn’t have agreed to this assignment if I thought I’d be a risk to myself or anyone else.”

“Spoken like a cop ready to go back on duty.”

She shook her head. She wasn’t. This role didn’t involve the wild card of public interaction. This wasn’t a domestic dispute ready to blow up in her face. It was walking a limited beat, being a deterrent for more trouble or possibly being on hand if one of the drug runners made a move.

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