And that’s when she spit in my face. The slimy saliva slowly dribbled down my cheeks and neck. I squeezed my mouth and eyes closed, trying to calm myself. Bitter vomit gurgled up in the back of my throat, yet I somehow kept it down. Hot sparks of adrenaline whipped across my skin, and my blood pulsed through my veins at a sickening speed, devouring any exhaustion that had been fogging my thoughtsbefore.
“Are you kidding me?” Ryanhissed.
The sound of the legs of his chair scraping quickly over the floor had my hands clenched into fists. I couldn’t respond. I wasn’tallowedto respond. I heard Ryan yank her off the seat and her chair hitting thefloor.
There was a quick burst of struggle until the door slammed open and Ryan shouted, “Detective Ward needs alcoholswabs!”
The cold, noxious phlegm dripped off my chin as the scuffle continued again in the hallway. I felt a rush of cold fresh air sweep over my skin as another officer came in to help. By the smell of the cologne, I knew it was Detective Dean Fury. He was in front of me immediately with alcohol pads, swabbing them across myface.
“I got you,” his voice whispered, wiping every area of my face andneck.
I took a deep, bitter, ethanol-filled breath and opened myeyes.
Dean's eyes leveled with mine. "Yougood?"
Out in the hall, Mrs. Robins was telling everyone how she was going to find out where I live and teach me a lesson;put the fear of God inme.
Even though it went against every cell in my body, I smiled up at Dean and nodded. “Justpeachy.”
“You got some tough skin, Callie Ward.” He playfully knocked his knuckles into myshoulder.
But there was no other kind of skin to have as a New York City detective, was there? I had no choice in the matter. It wasn’t easy either. My skin had gradually thickened over time—my first year was the hardest—when I realized the only way to build up my armor was to stand there as I got verbally assaulted over and over— until I felt defeated and dehumanized by the very people I was trying to protect. Some days, I’d drive home with tears stinging my eyes and my face bright red with rage. I’d scream when I stopped for red lights—at the top of my lungs—until my throat burned and my chest ached. Some days, I went home and drank myself into the morning. Now it’s just another perp, another day, and I was just trying to last to the end of my twenty years so I could retire somewhere quiet and peaceful. Andalone.
I scrubbed my face raw in the bathroom until itstung.
When I came back out, Sergeant Max Kannon was at my desk with a slip of paper and a telephone number. He slumped down in the chair next to my desk andsighed.
"Call the medical division and get an exposure number." He leaned back heavily in his chair, blinking a pair of sleep-deprived bloodshot eyes at me, and tossed the paper on mydesk.
“That’ll be my third time this week,” I said with a smirk, folding the paper and shoving it on the top of my reportspile.
He smiled, shaking his head. “This job is just too glamorous foryou.”
“Still waiting for someone to give me atiara.”
“You’d have more luck getting a straitjacket around here,” he said with alaugh.
A bottle of water shoved in my face interrupted our bantering. I flinched back and trailed my eyes up the length of the arm to Ryan Cage'sface.
“Water?” he asked, a little out of breath. “Oh, and by the way, a certain Mrs. Robins would like for me to relay to you what she wishes to insert up your rectum when she finds you alone in the street.” He ended his prompt with a wink and asmile.
“Jesus, I don’t even want to know.” I grimaced. “I want to peel the layer of skin off me that she spit on. Or bathe in bleach.”I wonder what a bleach bath would do to myskin.
Behind Ryan, Dean walked up with a steaming cup of coffee and held it out to me. “Coffee?”
I looked at Ryan to Dean to Max and laughed. "Guys, really, I'm okay. You're all making me feel weird." I took the water bottle and coffee and smiled up ateveryone.
Ryan sat on the edge of my desk and crossed his long legs, staring at me with a poorly hidden frown. I think he was trying to get me to talk about something—something I hadn’t caught on to yet. I slid the water bottle onto the desk and looked down into the Styrofoam coffee cup, which warmed my hand. There was nothing to do but change the subject. Did Ryan believe I did something wrong in the interview, maybe I reacted someway he thought was worrisome? My squad was a team of protectors, especially Ryan. We’d gotten close over the last few months, and I was happy to call them my friends—but the whole thought of talking about feelings and stuff, about interviewing that disgusting pedophile? I just wasn’t ready to go there—not now—it would have to be done in a few days over some beers and a half-assed game ofpoker.
A change of topic was desperatelyneeded.
“Hey, so I totally forgot, ” I said, switching gears. “What time is the party tomorrownight?”
Ryan was hosting a huge get-together for his younger brother, Cameron. The squad was set to give him an award for helping to save one of our officers’ lives. Officer Brooke Fury, to be exact—Dean’s sister, and Ryan’sgirlfriend.
“Six.” Ryan’s tone was lighter as he smiled. “You should bring someone,” he urged, winking atme.
“Yeah,” Dean said, poking me on the shoulder. “I heard you were dating that squad boss from ManhattanNorth.”
