Page 15 of Taken from Her
Diana's professional training screamed warnings about compromised judgment and blurred boundaries, but her body betrayed her by relaxing slightly under Lavender's gentle certainty. For just a moment, she let herself imagine what it might feel like to share that weight, to trust someone else with the crushing responsibility of keeping people safe.
The moment stretched between them, candlelight and ocean sounds and the scent of herbs creating a bubble outside the everyday world where different rules might apply. Diana felt herself balanced on the edge of something that terrified and attracted her in equal measure—the possibility of connection, of being known, of letting someone past the walls she'd built so carefully over the years.
But the radio on her belt crackled with routine dispatch traffic, and the sound shattered the spell. Diana straightened, muscle memory pulling her back into professional posture even as part of her reached toward what Lavender was offering.
"I really should go," Diana said, but her hand remained on the door handle, unmoving.
"I know," Lavender said, and the understanding in her voice was almost harder to bear than confrontation would have been. "But Diana? Tonight was a beginning. Not just for the investigation, but for you. Don't let fear make you waste it."
Diana nodded once, sharp and professional, then walked toward the door. But as she stood there, her hand stayed frozen on the door handle, her body caught between flight and something electric. Behind her, Lavender remained still, her presence like a gravity well Diana couldn't escape.
"This isn't how investigations work," Diana said, turning back into the café's main area where candles flickered across empty tables.
"How do they work?" Lavender followed with that fluid grace Diana found both compelling and infuriating.
"With boundaries and objectivity." Diana paced toward the windows. "With professional distance that keeps emotions from compromising judgment."
"And how's that working for you?"
The question hit like a slap. Diana spun around, finding Lavender watching her, arms crossed but expression open.
"It's worked for fifteen years of police work."
"Has it?" Lavender's voice carried that maddening gentleness. "Because fifteen years of professional distance has left you isolated and unable to access the very community intelligence you need."
Diana's hands clenched. "What you're offering isn't partnership. It's this touchy-feely emotional minefield where everyone shares feelings while three women are still missing."
"You think emotional support is useless?"
"I think you create this space where people feel safe sharing feelings, but feelings don't solve cases." Diana paced to the memorial corner. "They don't find missing women."
"And your walls do?"
Diana turned back, finding Lavender closer, candlelight catching the silver in her hair, intelligence in her eyes that seemed to see through every defense Diana had constructed.
"My walls keep me functional," Diana said sharply. "They keep me thinking clearly when other people are falling apart."
"They keep you alone," Lavender said quietly.
"They keep me effective."
"When's the last time someone knew you—really knew you? Not Chief Marten, but you.”
Diana felt professional certainty cracking like ice over deep water.
"You keep everyone at arm's length," Lavender continued, stepping closer. "How can you protect people you won't let yourself know?"
"I protect people by staying focused on the facts, not feelings."
"Or by staying so focused on the job that you forget about the person doing it."
The words made her pause, and Diana felt something snap inside her chest. Years of careful control was crumbling under one simple, devastating truth.
"Diana," Lavender said, and something in the way she spoke her name made Diana's chest tighten with panic and longing.
"Don't." Diana backed toward the counter. "Don't say my name like that. You don't know what it's like to carry the weight of everyone's safety."
But Lavender was moving closer again, her presence warm and compelling.
