Page 4 of The Rough Ride

Right.Liz knew Nick better than anyone.He’d freak.“Let’s talk about something else. You’re off-duty now, Mom. I’ll do the dishes. You’ve got twelve hours to yourself. Doing anything special?” Liz reached for the breast pump at the end of the kitchen table and unbuttoned her blouse. With Ella asleep, she justhadto pump. Her boobs felt like torpedoes ready to explode.

Arlene handed Liz a soft towel and slid the container of sterilized bottles in her direction. “I was thinking of walking down the alley to Louise’s to play cards, but I can stay here if you need help. I know you were up most of last night, honey.”

“Absolutely not, Mom. Go play cards with Louise and enjoy yourself. Stay out late and do something wicked like watch a movie and drink margaritas after cards. Tonight will be better with Ella. I’m looking forward to snuggling with my daughter.” She turned on the breast pump and sighed with relief. “And you need a break. I promise to start interviewingdaycares in the next week or two.” She smiled reassuringly at her mom.

Arlene put her elbows on the counter and leaned forward. “Don’t rush it, Liz. I love my time with Ella. She brings back the sweetest memories of when you were little and your dad was still with us. I find it healing to remember those good times.”

The back door flew open, and their wild-haired, nosy neighbor Vera whisked inside with a plate of cookies. “Yoo-hoo, I baked all afternoon and thought I’d share.” She set the plate on the counter and whispered, “Is Ella awake? I’d love to hold her.”

Liz covered her bare chest with the towel, cleared her throat, and raised an eyebrow at Arlene. How many times had she reminded her mother to lock the back door? This neighbor viewed an unlatched door as an open invitation to walk right in. “Hi, Vera. Thank you for the cookies, but Ella’s asleep right now.”

Vera’s smile flattened into a grim line. “Darn, I was hoping to hold her, get my baby fix. Well, enjoy the cookies. Harold’s waiting for me to watch a movie with him.” She blew a kiss and disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived.

Arlene spoke the second Vera was out of hearing range. “Sorry, honey. I keep forgetting to lock that door, and Vera’s more forgetful than ever. I’ve told her a dozen times to knock before she barges in.”

Liz shook her head and offered a rueful smile. “This isn’t Mayberry, Mom. I get concerned for you and Ella alone here during the day.”

Arlene rolled her eyes and grabbed her purse. “I’lllockthe door on my way out. I’ve got my keys and phone if you need anything.” She kissed Liz’s head. “Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too. Thanks for cooking.” It didn’t take her long to clean up the kitchen and check on Ella, whose little bow lips had an adorable spot of drool on the right side. Liz knew she was pushing it timewise, but she stepped into the walk-in tub and started a bath. The baby monitor on the sink counter was so loud she could hear Ella’s breathing. She relaxed into the rising bubbles and sighed.

If the baby stirred, it would take her five minutes to drain the tub, dry off, dress, attach the prosthetic to her stump, and pick Ella up.

Arlene was right. This was progress.

5

Maybe it was a full moon. The crazies had cranked it up several notches overnight. There were so many cases in motion that upper management had moved into the huge work area affectionately called the bullpen on the seventh floor near Liz’s office. They’d confiscated her phones, extra chairs, and all but one coffee mug.

The wall with the monitors was ablaze but muted with the closed captioning trolling and each major/minor network represented. The crew hated it when a reporter scooped a bust off a police scanner before the job was complete. When they lost suspects, it was usually due to a speculative broadcast before the perp was in cuffs. And when a suspect disappeared into the wind, months of good work was lost in minutes, and the bullpen had to start from scratch again. And in her bullpen? They were all hall-of-famers.

Carmen’s kids with the guns were in custody, and it was only 8:00 a.m. Seems the principal of the school awoke to a 4:00 a.m. phone call and drove to the school in her runninggear and curlers to unlock the place. The search warrants didn’t wait for a shower.

The principal had been greeted by an army of locals and feds bearing paper cups of coffee. When she unlocked the boys’ lockers, they found guns. Six, to be exact. Liz viewed the feds live take-down feed of the boys on the in-house monitor as she gave persona Dottie a new hairdo and makeup. One of the boys’ mothers became so hysterical she required an ambulance. Not a warm and fuzzy pancake morning in that house.

Liz suspected the principal would never get a shower today since every locker would be searched, every staff member and friend of a friend on social media interviewed, and every parent notified as to why the school was closed for the next few days. But it was a far sight better than the alternative.

Liz knew many of the families from that school would sit down to a family dinner tonight, even if it was pizza—because they could. Some of them might even say grace for the first time since Thanksgiving because they were grateful to a higher power.

And that cheerleader? Liz had seen it half-a-dozen times already. She’d never return to that school. Her parents were going to raid her college fund or their IRA and send her to a private school so exclusive the sweet girl wouldn’t get to kiss a boy again until her senior summer.

That was the way of families when the horror of what could have been hit home. They hunkered down. Hormone-infused kids would hug their fathers, and mothers would peek on their teenagers late at night in their beds. Something they hadn’t done in years.

And by God, there’d be a metal detection system installed in the school before it reopened because the parents wouldinsist on it. They’d protest, start a Go-Fund Me page, and retired law enforcement would offer to help the school resource officer staff it. And finally, after a ton of negative press, some councilperson would suddenly find money in the budget to protect the kids.

Liz caught Carmen’s eye across the big room. She raised her coffee cup high in a toast with one hand and gave her a thumb’s-up with the other. Carmen beamed with pride over her first catch. Liz had hired her specifically because of her age (she understood the online slang), bilingual abilities, and work ethic—just twenty-three and fresh from college.

Carmen swiped her cheek with the back of her hand. A tear? Maybe. Liz remembered crying herself to sleep the night of her first catch. There was something humbling aboutbeing the onewho recognized evil before it detonated.

Well done, Carmen, well done.

Liz slipped into her office and uploaded Dottie’s new look.

The restof the day proved to be as fruitful as the morning.

Her bullpen nailed a sex trafficker and intercepted a well-coded message concerning a large shipment of cocaine approaching the Florida Keys on a private yacht. The brass monopolized the bullpen until 3:00 p.m. and then, one by one, returned the mugs and chairs to her office.

Dottie’s yummy new profile page garnered some interesting comments, among them an invitation from a recently divorced man wanting to escort her to the Washington Nationals playoff game in a few weeks. Liz tracked him through his profile and IP address. Nothing masked orhidden. Just a lonely guy endeavoring to get his mojo back after a divorce.

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