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“But, Lib, no one has ever thought that about you… except you.” Alex shifts on the edge of my desk and makes himself comfortable. “Hayes was in this very fucking station, but no one thought it had anything to do with you. We had his case boards filling the war room, but did you hide what you knew of that man?” He sits back and shakes his head. “Nope. You dug in deep and gave us everything–even your memories as a child. Cruzwasin here, and he wasn’t exactly on the up and up. He wasn’t a bad cop, but he was sneaking. Who suspected it first?” Blue eyes bore into mine. “Wasn’t me. It was you. You’re so attuned to the station and everyone’s behavior, you called Cruz long before I did. You near ripped his head off when he said you’d taken his lunch. You thought he was dirty, and you were ready to take him out. But the second he was proven innocent, you admitted you were wrong and apologized. You treated him fairly, when I guess I was still caught up in my anger. He wasn’t dirty, but he still lied, and that messed with me. You’ve proven yourself, Lib. Not all children are their fathers, not everyone grows up to carry on the family business. You’ve done your job, you continue to do your job. You demand our respect and belief, but you don’t believe in yourself.” Standing, Alex gives a sad little shake of his head. “You’re a good cop, Libby. You’re one of the best. Don’t get so caught up in someone else’s behavior that you forget your own.”
I walk away from my station with a little less weight on my heart, if not a smile. My chief believes me. He believesinme. And really, as the daughter of a crooked cop serving life in prison for multiple counts of murder, corruption, embezzlement, theft, assault, drugs and gun-related crimes, that’s all I can hope for.
I slide into my car and sit for a moment.
I’m so straight I’m going to break.
Well, ifthatain’t the truth.
A yawn overtakes my body and forces my mouth so wide that my face aches. My eyes water, and when I look at my hand, I huff at the spots of dried blood that flew from Donohue’s face.
“Shit.”
I switch on the ignition and pull away from the curb. I need to go home and reset. I need to stop freaking out about every little thing at work. I’m thirty-one years old, not nine, and I don’t have to apologize anymore for my father’s actions.
He’s in prison, he was proven guilty.
I’m free, I don’t have dimples in my knees anymore, and I have the respect of my CO and colleagues.
I’m a good fucking cop, and there’s not a soul on this planet that can take that away from me.
