Just tell her.
She caught his gaze and smiled slowly. “What?”
God, she’s beautiful.
“Marilyn?”
“Gio?” she said, slightly teasing.
He swallowed. He’d said these words before, long ago, as a tool to get what he wanted. Later, he learned not to resort to such desperate tactics. But now, when he might mean them, the words stuck in his throat.
“Gio? What?” She seemed amused at his shyness.
Maybe she knew.
He took a deep breath. “I…” he paused and looked directly into her eyes. “I…”
Marilyn looked at him, confused. Then realization flooded her eyes.
She does know.
His heart quickened.
And then her face fell.
A terrible wrenching tore through his stomach, but Gio struggled not to show it. Instead, he changed tactics, even the damage had already been done. “I…really thought the steak was good here,” he finished lamely. “How was your shrimp?”
A long pause spun out while she set her fork down and dabbed at her lips with her napkin. Only a few moments ago, he’d found that act beautiful. Now it seemed ominous.
“Gio, I…” she stopped. He looked for tears but saw none. He felt even greater dread creep in. “I like you. I like you a lot. We’ve had fun, some good times …” she gave him a small smile. “…great sex. But I’m not really interested in anything serious. I mean, were you?”
Gio looked away. He couldn’t answer, couldn’t look at her.
“I asked the bartender about you and he said. .” she trailed off. “Oh, God. Were you looking for something serious, Gio?”
He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t dated anyone else since we met.”
She didn’t answer. He looked up, and her silence told him that the same was not true for her.
He’d made a terrible mistake.
“Oh, Gio.” Marilyn said quietly. “Maybe we should stop seeing each other.”
He stared at her as if he didn’t understand. But he did. He knew the dance of the breaking hearts. He just usually led.
“And maybe I should go,” she added with quiet finality.
“Maybe,” Gio whispered.
She paused for a moment, her mouth open as if to speak. He knew the words that hesitated behind her lips. I’m sorry.
I’m sorry, too, he thought.
She didn’t say anything, though. Instead, she stood and walked away from the table without a word.
2158 hours
Katie leaned against her car, wishing that she smoked. A cigarette would have been a nice distraction. Westboard stood next to her, hands in his back pockets, rocking on his heels. Both were waiting for Sergeant Shen to finish inside the house. The homeowners hadn’t demanded to see a supervisor, but Katie thought it prudent to call one just the same.
“Maybe I should join the fire department,” Katie muttered.
“Eat until you’re tired, sleep until you’re hungry,” Westboard quoted the long-standing joke about firemen.
“I was thinking more along the lines of how when firefighters show up and break things, everyone thanks them for it.”
Westboard grinned and shook his head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Katie.”
“I blew the call,” she replied.
“Depends on how you look at it.”
Katie turned to look at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Westboard continued to rock lightly on his heels. “Well, it depends on if you want to take the long or the short view.”
“The what?” Katie shook her head. “You’ve lost me.”
Westboard removed his hands from his pockets and rubbed them together. “It’s simple. If you take the short view, then the outlook is that you misjudged a call and broke down a door you didn’t need to. What’s the downside of that? The city pays for a door and maybe a citizen is a little pissed off. Or not, depending on how well Shen is doing in there.” He thumbed at the house.
“The short view sounds like exactly what happened,” Katie said.
“It is,” Westboard answered, “but in the greater scheme of your career, how big a deal is it? Not much of one. That’s where the long view comes in. The long view says you were faced with a dangerous situation. You were alone. You had to decide whether your personal safety was more important than that woman’s safety inside the house.”
“She wasn’t in any danger,” Katie argued quietly.
“You didn’t know that. In fact, you had every reason to believe she was in very real danger. You were faced with a choice and made a decision, which tells you a bit about who you are, doesn’t it? Maybe answers a question or two about yourself?”
Katie didn’t answer.
“You went in and did what was necessary,” Westboard continued. “I’d say the long view is that you’ll always do what it takes.”
Slowly, Katie nodded. He made sense. “When did you get so wise?”
Westboard shrugged. “Everyone has their demons, Katie. You faced yours.”
“And what are yours?” Katie asked playfully.
Westboard blanched and looked away.
Before she could apologize, the screen door squeaked open and Sgt. Shen appeared in the doorway. The lithe supervisor gave a wave to Fred as he walked down the walkway toward Katie and Westboard.
“Well,” he said when he reached them, “that’s taken care of.”
“Are they filing a complaint?” Katie asked.
“Complaint? No.” Shen smiled. “I assured them the City would pay for a new door and cover the cost of any dry cleaning for soiled undergarments.”
Katie gave a sigh of relief. “I’m sorry, Sarge. I-”
Shen raised a hand. “You already explained. Your actions were reasonable. Actually, they were brave and a little risky. But you did what you had to do. Just write an informational report for me, okay?”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
Shen smiled and headed back to his own car.
“Hey, Sarge?” Katie called after him.
Shen turned.
“Who won the fight?”
Shen smiled. “I believe the hometown hero went down in the ninth. Left hook.” He pantomimed a sharp punch to the head, then turned and continued to his car.
Katie looked at Westboard and shrugged. “Guess he’s not number fourteen anymore.”
2217 hours
Winter pulled into the alley and shut off the engine, now centrally located for three of the five stores. The other rover would be responsible for the remaining two. Hart wanted them to drive between the stores constantly, which Winter thought was ridiculous and refused to do. The surveillance vehicle’s job was to watch the store. He’d respond and watch for the getaway.
Besides, the odds that Scarface would hit tonight were not great, and the odds of hitting one of the targeted stores even slimmer. Karl Winter settled in for a long night.
He opened his lunch cooler. On top of the neatly packed sandwich, crackers and orange juice, Mary had placed a small note and his favorite candy bar.
Be safe and save some energy. Love, M.
He read the note with a smile, then absently placed it in his breast pocket. He closed the lunch cooler and opted for the thermos of coffee.
An hour flew by. Winter turned the ignition key to start and listened to the stereo on low volume. Like Chisolm, he had served in Vietnam, though his tour was considerably less glamorous. Just your run of the mill blood and guts every “11-Bush” saw. None of that Special Operations stuff.
He still liked the music from that era. Whenever he heard those songs, he remembered the good times he had. The partying he did on leave. The card games in the barracks. The bad times, the scary times, remained buried. He wondered if the same were true for Chisolm. The thought made him realize that they’d never talked about it.
Ah, well. Some things didn’t need to be discussed. They were better left alone.