Dishing It Out. Molly O'Keefe

is better than...”

      “Than?”

      He shifted uncomfortably. This woman put him at some serious unease. Small talk was not something he’d ever excelled at. He preferred quiet. Assess a situation, a person before weighing in.

      He preferred being careful and not making people damn uncomfortable. Tess did not have the same beliefs, it seemed.

      So, turnabout was fair play, right? “Okay, you want to chat? What happened to your arm last night?” Because he didn’t give a crap about her taste in music or her favorite restaurant, but he was kind of desperate to know what the hell happened to her arm.

      As he’d predicted, she closed right up. Gaze hard on the street. Fingers tightening on the steering wheel. “It was nothing.”

      “Sure, everyone goes home at night crashing into things, cursing, bleeding onto the hallway floor.”

      Her mouth quirked at the corner. “Well, I thought so.” She glanced at him again. “So, Mr. Stiffy has a sense of humor?” She closed her eyes, cheeks blotching pink. “Oh, that sounded...not how I meant.”

      Only then did he get what she was embarrassed about. Only then did he feel a matching embarrassing heat flood his face.

      This was turning out to be a hell of a first day.

      “Anyway. I was visiting my dad. Glass broke. Caught me in the arm.”

      He wondered if she had any clue what a shit liar she was. First of all, the story was too vague. Second, the tenseness in her shoulders meant she wasn’t comfortable with the subject. As did the way she restlessly pushed the car into Reverse.

      “Let’s go grab some lunch, huh?”

      He didn’t verbally respond, just gave her a nod. He wondered if his chatty FTO was in trouble, and if it would affect him.

      Unfortunately, he was all out of patience with other people’s lives affecting his, and he had a bad feeling about Tess Camden.

       CHAPTER TWO

      “CAMDEN. FRANKS WANTS to see you.” The radio crackled and then shut off.

      Tess glanced at Marc, who was, of course, still staring out the window. She’d switched tactics from trying to be friends with the guy to focusing on work. Third day in, he still barely said a word and barely seemed to listen.

      He did catch on quick, though, which was kind of a pain in the ass.

      Tess grabbed the radio and muttered into the speaker, “En route.” To Marc she said, “Should only take a few. You can poke around the station. Check out the gym or something.”

      He nodded.

      She really hated that nod. His silence. His stoic blankness. She hated that it made her wonder. No personality? Woman hater? Deep dark secrets?

      She had enough on her plate without trying to figure out Mr. Stiffy. Yeah, she’d said that back on the first day. Jeez. Maybe she needed to practice some of this guy’s stoicism.

      And quick, if Franks wanted to see her.

      She pulled into the station lot, rolling her shoulders to rid herself of the heavy rock of dread knotted between them. Franks rarely called someone into his office for anything positive, and she really hadn’t done anything to garner positive lately.

      “You know where everything is?”

      Another nod, no other verbal response. Seriously, who was this guy? Some kind of monk? Only allowed a certain number of words a day?

      She didn’t have time to think about it. She had to do the dead-man-walking trek to Franks’s office.

      The door was open, but she knocked anyway. She’d never been taken to task before, but she knew. She just knew.

      “Yes?” Captain barked.

      “You wanted to see me?”

      “Camden. Yes. Come in. Close the door.”

      Nope. Not good. But she did it, because, as with a lot of things, what choice did she have?

      “We’ve had a few rumblings after last week.”

      “Last week, sir?”

      “You disappeared fifteen minutes before your shift was over. And you’re behind two reports from last week, as well.”

      Tess tried to swallow the mortification so it didn’t show on her face. “I’ll have the reports turned in tonight before I leave.”

      “Good. Good.” Captain Franks ran a hand over his balding head, looking moderately uncomfortable which was rare. “I know your father is...sick.”

      But because she declined to say exactly what kind of sick, there was skepticism. She hated this treading-water feeling that was creeping up on her. Dad was getting worse and her life was starting to suffer. But the water kept lapping at her mouth, and she couldn’t find a way to swim toward the shore.

      “It’s been a rough month. I’ll get it under control, Captain. I just...we don’t have anyone else.” She didn’t entertain tears, or her voice breaking, though both battled for prominence. Luckily she had a lot of practice fighting those things into submission.

      “I know, Camden. You’re an excellent officer, but we’re also seeing our crime rates rise with the Dee’s Factory closing, and I need to know my men are on top of things.”

      “I am. I am.”

      “No more disappearing then. No matter how close to the end of your shift. No more late reports. I don’t want to have to write you up, but I can’t let things slide just because...”

      Because she was a woman. Because her whole life was spinning plates on poles and she was so damn tired of spinning. But what other choice did she have? “Absolutely.”

      “Have the reports in tonight.”

      She nodded. The reports were both nearly done, but she’d had to leave them unfinished last night when Dad had called, not making any sense, minutes from getting himself arrested or worse.

      “If things get really bad, you can always consider taking a leave of absence, but you can’t slack off when you’re here.”

      “I understand. It won’t happen again.”

      “That’s good to hear, Camden. How’s our new officer?”

      “Good. Quiet, but seems to know what’s what.”

      “Good.” Franks nodded to the door. “I have every confidence you’ll train him right.”

      Tess nodded back and headed for the door. For some reason, Captain’s confidence only made her feel worse. The man had given her more praise in a dressing-down than her father had in years, and yet she was risking this to keep her father out of trouble.

       He doesn’t mean it.

      Tess closed the door behind her and forced stiff legs down the hall. Once she turned the corner, she leaned her forehead against the wall, her eyes squeezing shut.

      She had to find some answers, or she had to let whatever happened to Dad...happen.

       You can’t do that. Not when he’s the way he is because of you.

      She hated that voice in her head. Because it was lies. Irrational lies. Mom had left because, well, who knew? But no matter how obnoxious a kid Tess had been, neither she nor her father had deserved being deserted.

      It wasn’t Tess’s fault.

       Why couldn’t you be a good little girl, Tessie? Why’d she have to leave because of you?

      She hated that voice, too. Dad drunk and weeping.