“Hey lady,” I said into the phone.
“Finally,” she blurted. “What is going on, Ellie?”
“Huh?” I asked, rinsing my coffee cup in the sink.
“The Calaveras.”
“Who?”
“Ugh!” Misty sighed. “The Calaveras family. It’s all over the news. Jesus fucking Christ, Ellie, you’re supposed to be a cop.”
“I am a cop,” I said, a little too coldly. It wasn’t fair to be hard on Misty. She didn’t know the shit that went down at the precinct the last few days. And I didn’t want to talk about it.
“I know you are,” she said. “It’s all over the news. Something about a drug bust and a few people got shot last night. You didn’t know about this?”
I shook my head, not realizing Misty couldn’t see me. “It’s my weekend off.” I waved my hand in the air. “And I’m taking every last second of this weekend for myself. Fuck work.”
Misty laughed. “Glad to have the city’s finest keeping me safe.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like I’m hunting down criminals,” I grumbled. I had applied time and time again to go into the field, to actually chase down criminals, to do something more than sit at a desk and direct traffic. I was a good cop. I followed the rules, I led by example, I did everything right. I knew I wanted to be a cop since I was just a kid. I wanted to be like my dad, who happened to be the chief of police.
You’d think he’d be proud, right? His little girl wanting to follow in his footsteps. Most fathers would be. But not mine. Mine resented the fact that I went against his wishes, that I got a degree in criminal psychology instead of something “feminine,” as he called it.
He was always critical of me, telling me how I could do things better. He always had the stupidest reason for not promoting me. Being 99.9% perfect wasn’t enough for him. And he had no problem pointing that out and finding my flaws. It didn’t help that my older brother was one of the head detectives on our unit. Ugh. Talk about picking favorites…
“I remember the Calaveras now,” I said as I opened the pantry. I was in desperate need of grocery shopping but was low on funds. Meh…my meager supply could last me until payday…I hoped. “We’ve been watching them for years.” By “we,” I meant pretty much every law enforcement agent on the planet. “They’re getting brazen shooting people like that.”
“Yeah,” Misty agreed. “The last thing we need is more drug dealers.”
“Right,” I said, not telling her that the Calaveras trafficked weapons as well as drugs. Misty was innocent and carefree. She didn’t like to think about the bad things in the world. She was one of the happiest people I knew. Sometimes, I was jealous. Not really jealous of her, but jealous of the way she could let things go. I wanted to be like that but was so rigid it was hard for me to let go and feel free. Had I shoved the stick so far up my ass it was impossible to pull out?
“Anyway,” Misty continued. “Pick me up after work and get drinks?”
“You can’t drink,” I said, stating the obvious.
“No shit,” she retorted back. “I’ll order a virgin-something and enviously watch you have a glass of wine. Four more months until I can hit the bottle again.”
“I thought you were breastfeeding,” I added with a smile.
“Dammit,” she laughed. “Well, anyway, just pick me up. I have something to tell you, and I want to say it in person.”
My stomach twisted. “Is it bad?”
“Depends on how you look at it. I gotta get back to work now, Ellie. See ya later.”
I hung up, apprehension growing. I’d been friends with Misty for a little over three years now, but it felt like I’d known her forever. She was my only friend, really. I didn’t think I was hard to get along with, and I always thought of myself as friendly, but I still had a hard time making friends. I was shy, as much as I hated to admit it. And I didn’t like breaking the rules or doing anything that could get me in trouble. Not everyone was okay with that. Most people called me a prude. I guess I wasn’t fun to be around. Sometimes I wondered why Misty put up with me.
I straightened up my apartment. It was small and crappy but nicely decorated at least. I liked things neat and tidy. Messes gave me a headache. Then I got dressed with enough time left over for another episode of Doctor Who before I left to pick up Misty.
Chapter 2
“Turn on your lights,” Misty said, hand resting on her stomach. She leaned forward against the seatbelt, staring at the bumper-to-bumper traffic. “We can get through this.”