Page 8 of Close Protection

"Scott," she answered, voice clipped and professional.

"Need you in my office urgently,” Chief Marten said without preamble. "New assignment. Priority one."

Julia's pulse quickened. Priority one meant protective detail, usually for a high-risk witness. After weeks of pushing papers, the prospect of field work sent a familiar rush of adrenaline through her system.

"Details?" she asked, already mentally cataloging what she'd need.

"When you get here." The chief's tone brooked no argument. "And Julia? This one's sensitive. Department eyes only."

The line went dead before Julia could respond. She slipped the phone into her pocket, mind already shifting gears,categorizing and preparing. A protective detail with additional security concerns meant a witness at significant risk. Someone with information valuable enough to make them a target.

She finished her coffee in three long swallows, barely registering the heat. Time to go.

Julia gathered her blazer and keys, her movements quick and economical. At the door, she paused for a final security check, a habit as ingrained as breathing. Doors locked, windows secured, blinds adjusted to prevent anyone from seeing in while still allowing her to spot movement outside.

As she turned to leave, her gaze caught on the single photograph displayed on her entryway table: herself as a rookie officer, standing beside her mother in her lieutenant's uniform. Three generations of Scott women had worn the Phoenix Ridge Police Department badge. Her grandmother's face stared out from an old newspaper clipping framed on the wall: the first female detective in the department's history.

Legacy was a weight Julia carried without complaint. Excellence wasn't an aspiration; it was an expectation.

She straightened her shoulders and headed out, locking the three deadbolts behind her. The memory of soft skin and whispered urgency was already fading, replaced by the focused clarity of professional purpose. By the time she reached her unmarked department sedan, the woman from the hotel had been neatly compartmentalized and filed away with other pleasant but ultimately irrelevant experiences.

Detective Julia Scott had work to do. And whatever this new assignment was, she would handle it with the same precision and discipline she applied to everything else in her life.

The Phoenix Ridge morning traffic parted reluctantly for her as she headed downtown, the department radio a low, constant murmur in the background. The city was waking up around her, its rhythms and patterns as familiar as her own heartbeat. Julia navigated through it automatically, her mind already at the precinct, preparing for whatever awaited her there.

She was ready. She was always ready.

The Phoenix Ridge Police Department rose before her, its limestone facadegleaming in the morning sun. Modern glass additions wrapped around the historic structure—a perfect metaphor for the department itself, Julia thought. Traditional foundations supporting progressive approaches.

She badged in at the security entrance, nodding to Officer Washington at the desk. The rookie's eyes lit up as Julia passed.

"Detective Scott! Did you hear about the bust on Cedar Street last night? Lieutenant Cooper's team took down a whole distribution network."

"Good for them," Julia said, not breaking stride. The eager energy of new officers used to exhaust her. Now she found it almost endearing, like watching puppies discover their legs.

The bullpen hummed with activity—phones ringing, keyboards clicking, the occasional burst of laughter rising above the din. Unlike the male-dominated precincts she'd visited in other cities, Phoenix Ridge's detective division reflected the department's all-female composition.

"Scott!" Detective Morgan Rivers intercepted her by the coffee station, a mugbearing the slogan “It's probably NOT admissible in court” clutched in her hand. "Thought you were still on desk duty this week."

"Chief called me in." Julia poured herself a cup from the carafe marked 'Evidence Division Blend – TOUCH IT AND DIE.' Despite the warning, it was common knowledge that the evidence techs brewed the best coffee in the precinct.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "The dragon summoned you personally? Must be something big."

"We'll see." Julia kept her voice neutral, though Morgan wasn't wrong. Chief Diana Marten didn't make personal calls for routine assignments.

Morgan studied her for a moment, head tilted. "You look different today. Get lucky or something?"

Julia took a deliberate sip of her coffee, letting the bitter heat override her instinct to react. "Or something."

Morgan grinned. "About time. You were getting?—"

"I have a meeting," Julia cut her off,already moving toward the chief's office at the far end of the bullpen.

"Details later!" Morgan called after her.

Julia didn't dignify that with a response. Morgan was the closest thing she had to a friend in the department, but there were boundaries. Last night was firmly on the other side of those boundaries.

Chief Marten's office stood apart from the bullpen chaos, a glass cube with privacy film that could be activated at the touch of a button. Currently transparent, Julia could see the chief inside, phone pressed to her ear, free hand moving in sharp, emphatic gestures. Diana Marten cut an imposing figure even seated behind her desk: tall, with close-cropped dark hair silvered at the temples, sharp features, and the focused intensity of a hawk tracking prey.

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