Gail's green eyes burned. She looked near tears and finally thumped the couch with her fist. "God damn you, Frank. God damn you. I've spent the last six months trying to forget about you and in one fell swoop you obliterate all that effort. And you're damn right I want to be mad at you. I hate you. I hate your damn letter and your damn apologies! You can't just swoop back into my life like that."
"Then I won't," Frank answered gently. "I promise I'll leave you alone. I won't call or write or even say hello when I see you. Is that what you want?" Gail dropped her head and Frank pushed, "Is it? Just tell me. Say the word and I'll be gone forever."
"Damn you," Gail whispered. "Damn me for ever falling in love with you. All the red flags were there and I ignored each one." She shook her head, picking invisible things from her slacks. Frank waited her out. At length Gail admitted, "I don't want to hate you, but I don't trust you either. You scare the hell out of me."
"How so?"
"Because you're two people. The thoughtful, sensitive Miss Hyde that I fell in love with and the alcoholic Doctor Jekyll that I detest. I never know which one you're going to be."
Frank nodded. "That scares me too. I wish I could look you in the eye and swear I'll never drink again, but I can't do that. I've been going to all these AA meetings and I hear stories about people who were sober ten, fifteen, twenty years and then one day they start drinking again. Seems like the common denominator among them is that they stop going to meetings and stop working the steps. They stop being honest with their sponsors and themselves and eventually they drink again. So I know it happens." Scooting down the couch, close enough that she could reach out and touch Gail, she added, "All I can promise, and I promise this more for myself than for you, is to keep doing the things that will give me the best shot at staying sober. And that starts with telling the truth, being honest about where I'm at and where I've been.
That's why I wrote that letter. I need to admit what I did to the people I hurt. And I need to remember what I did because if I forget then I'm in danger of doing it again. And I don't want to do that, Gail. To you, to me or to anyone else."
Frank sat back. It was a long speech for her. It felt strange, talking so much, but it felt good, too. Awkward as it was to get into, the truth fit comfortably once it was in place.
So she continued, "Tell me what to do. Do you want me to leave you alone? I can do that, if that's what you want. Just tell me."
"I don't know what I want. I thought I did until I got your letter. It was beautiful. I cried when I read it." She half laughed. "Then I balled it up and threw it across the room calling you names you'd be proud of." Gail hated profanities and the two women shared a tentative smile.
"Look, if it's any help, I don't know what I want either. I feel all. .. disjointed lately. Like I have no idea who I am. I don't want to be the old Frank but I'm not sure who the new one is. So what do you say we go back to square one? Start all over. No expectations. Just try to be friends again. Maybe see how that goes."
"It's not that easy."
"Why?"
"Because." Gail's eyes searched the room. "Because I'd have to suspend my disbelief to be with you. I don't know that I can be in a relationship with you without expectations. And I'd keep waiting for you to turn into Dr. Jekyll, waiting for you to shut me out again. I don't know that I'm willing to do that."
Frank nodded agreement. "Yeah. I'd be scared too. Hell, I am scared. I don't want to be Dr. Jekyll again. I can't afford to be. The cost is too high. If I become her again I can only see two options— one really. Somehow I'd kill myself. Probably in a car wreck or with a bullet—but something bad'd happen and I don't want to go there. I've been close enough to that edge and I don't want to go back. That's all I can tell you."
"I know. I know you can't make any promises. But neither can I."
"Fair enough. How about we just try for civility and see where it goes from there?"
"All right," Gail yielded. "We'll try that." She looked like she had more to add, but stood up. "Thanks for letting me come over."
"Thanks for wanting to."
Walking her to the door, Frank asked where she was going on her trip.
"New York. I'm speaking at the NAME convention on Friday."
A grin spread across Frank's face and Gail interpreted it as confusion.
"Oh, sorry. NAME is the National Association of Medical Examiners. I'm leaving early to see some friends and do some shopping. What are you laughing about?"
Frank was still smiling, shaking her head at the floor. "What are the odds?"
"The odds of what?"
"The odds that I'd be in New York this weekend, too."
"You're going to New York?"
"Yep."
"What for?"
"Take care of some business. Stuff I should have taken care of twenty years ago."
"Like what."
"More apologies, kind of. Amends. Very late amends. I don't suppose you'd let me buy you a cup of hot chocolate at Rockefeller Center? Tell you all about it if you were interested."
Gail looked dubious. "We'll see. Why don't you call me?"
"Same cell phone number?"
"Yes." Gail actually chuckled. "It hasn't been that long. And I'll be staying at the Crowne Plaza. In Times Square. You can always leave a message for me there."
"All right. I'll do that."
"Where are you going to be?"
"I'm not sure yet."
"You don't have a room?"
"Nah. It's New York. I'm not too worried."
Gail nodded. All the fight had left her. She looked soft. Touchable. Frank wanted to stroke her cheek, just for a second, but sensed the timing was wrong.
"If I don't hear from you, I hope you have a great trip. It's a helluva city."
"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it."
They lingered by the door. Gail offered a small but earnest smile. "Maybe I'll see you there."
Frank returned the shy smile. "I'll call you. Be safe."
"Always the cop."
Frank chuckled. "I can't change everything."
"I hope not," Gail said. "So much of you is wonderful. I'll see you."
Instead of walking Gail to her car and watching her drive off, Frank closed the door and leaned against it. The smile crept back onto her face.
CHAPTER 3
Frank got to work Friday morning well before the rest of the LAPD's Ninety-third Homicide Squad. Her detectives trailed in around six—-Johnny hungover, Darcy and Diego mute, Lewis and Jill cackling about Survivor and Bobby teasing the women, "You don't get enough on-the-job reality?"
"Yeah, but I don't have to clean up the shit on TV," Lewis shot back.
"Amen," Jill said, and the women high-fived each other.
"All right, let's get started. Fubar's going to be on call while I'm gone. Hopefully it'll be quiet. Looks like there's some rain coming in and killers don't like getting wet. Bobby's lead while I'm gone. Got any questions, ask him first. Bobby, run what you have to by Fubar, but try and keep it to a minimum or else you'll confuse him and he'll start making shit up. I'll have my phone with me so call if you need to. Jill, I want to read the Fuentes sixty-day on the airplane. Got it?"
"Got it." The redhead sighed. Johnny and Jill were chronically late with their sixty-day follow-up reports and Frank was tired of taking Foubarelle's heat for them.
"Johnny, I want—"
He raised a hand to stop her. "I know, I know. Valenzuela and Brown."