“A little nervous about it, are you?”
“Yeah, a little. You shot a man before. What does he want to know?”
“He just wants to make sure you’re not having nightmares, that you’re sleeping okay, and that having to shoot someone hasn’t messed with your head,” Shea said. “I shot a guy we attempted to arrest. He was wanted for murder, and he drew down on me. I did what I was trained to do, so did you.”
“I know that, and I’m sleeping okay. Have you heard anything about Benton? Her status?”
“Ah, you don’t know?” He and Collins exchanged a glance.
“No.”
“She’ll live, but the bullet severed her spine. She’ll never walk again. She was transferred to County last night. She’s being held in the hospital ward. Not sure when she’ll be arraigned.”
Lainie stared at him, unexpectedly shocked by this new development. Benton’s driver was dead, and that knowledge hadn’t tweaked her as much as this news did. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“She shot at you, you shot back. End of story.”
Lainie shrugged. “You’re right, I guess. Any luck locating Vine?”
“Not so far. We’ve served warrants at his home, his cigar lounge, and his office with no luck. The Feds are almost 100 percent sure he hasn’t left the country. He has to surface soon.”
“That’s certainly my hope.”
Dr. Reynolds’s office was on the third floor. Lainie left the homicide office and took the stairs. She wasn’t sure why she’d procrastinated talking to the man. He wasn’t a bad guy. She guessed it was just because she, like most cops, didn’t like people digging into their psyche and maybe finding weaknesses. Most cops she knew didn’t like to admit they had any weakness, much less have some doctor probe them.
Would the doctor find her weakness? Before all this happened with Stan, Lainie thought, like Vine, that she was bulletproof. But nearly losing Evie, believing for days that she was dead, had changed Lainie. But the change was good because she had her foundation back. Her perspective on life was no longer tunnel vision on her career aspirations. There was so much more to life than working toward a spot on homicide.
“Detective Jensen?” The doctor’s receptionist opened the door. “Dr. Reynolds is ready for you.”
Lainie stood and walked through the open door. Dr. Reynolds was about sixty years old, short with a potbelly and a big smile. He had a comfortable demeanor about him.
“Detective, you’re looking well, considering all you’ve been through the last few days.”
“I’m feeling well. A lot better than when we last talked.”
He gave a head tilt. “I remember our last meeting well. I consider you a success story.”
“Really?”
“Really. I recall you were ordered to talk to me as part of the settlement with Dallas Vine. You were very angry back then. I feared you’d implode and destroy your career. You didn’t. You followed everyone’s advice and you dug yourself out of a deep hole. I consider it a great success when we had no opportunity to sit down and talk again in all these years. You’ve done well.”
His praise surprised her. She’d never thought what she’d done to stay a cop was heroic, but the doctor made it sound like it was. “Thanks. I have tried to do my job and keep my nose clean.”
He laughed. “Good for you. How are you doing with the recent incidents? Two in a relatively short time.”
“I did what I was trained to do. I’m a good shot, Dr. Reynolds. I’m glad I was able to respond quickly and effectively.”
“I sense abutin what you’re saying.”
“It kind of set me back on my heels when I heard about Benton being paralyzed. I don’t know why.”
“She’ll live with her handicap for the rest of her life and the reality that you shot her. Most likely in prison. That bothers you?”
“I guess. I mean, I think she’s evil, and maybe in my anger I wished something horrible would happen to her, and it did. To some extent, I feel guilty.”
“Understandable. And human, to feel guilt. But, Detective, you didn’t shoot her in anger; your life was threatened. What would have been the outcome if you hadn’t shot her?”
“Ben and I would be dead.”
