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If there had been a shower, she’d have used it. But there wasn’t, so she had to make do. Despite her gloves, she had blood specks on her face and arms. She stripped to her bra and underwear, making sure there weren’t other blood spots she might have missed. Stomach rolling with revulsion, she spent more time than necessary making sure she’d washed every inch of her exposed skin.
And when she was tempted to start over, repeating the process, she forced herself to stop. Sinking onto the commode, she buried her face in her hands.
This—she couldn’t do this!
“Elly?” Joe rapped on the door. “Are you okay in there?”
She pulled herself together with an effort. Rising on shaky legs, she blotted the tears from her face and quickly pulled on her jeans and sweater. Then she removed the ponytail clip from her hair, letting the auburn strands hang loose. She still looked awful, but there wasn’t anything she could do to improve her appearance. She opened the door and tried to smile. “I’m ready.”
“Hey, you don’t have to suffer through this alone.” Joe wasn’t fooled by her brave front. He pulled her into a hug, patting her back the way Rhy might have done. “After we get the sketch done, I’ll take you home.”
“Sounds good.” She slipped from his arms and returned to the bathroom to pick up her discarded uniform. The one perk of the job was that the company laundered their uniforms if they were stained with blood. She stuffed the items into a basket, then returned to her locker for her coat.
“Take care, Elly,” Derek said as she and Joe headed for the door.
“You too.” She nodded at her colleague, then followed Joe outside. Oddly, the air seemed colder now, or maybe it was just a delayed reaction from the earlier adrenaline rush. Shivering, she slid into the police cruiser.
“He seems like a decent guy,” Joe said as he put the car in reverse to back out of the parking spot. “Does Rhy like him?”
“Huh?” She glanced over in confusion. “Why would Rhy like him?”
“Oh, I thought maybe you two were dating.”
“We’re not.” She looked away. The only guy she was interested in dating was the one sitting next to her. The one guy who would never ask her out. “He’s too young.”
“I see.” Joe’s tone was noncommittal.
She sensed he was trying to take her mind off the horror of the shooting. Normally, she’d have loved some private time with Joe. But not now. Not under these circumstances.
“The sketch artist is meeting us in fifteen minutes.” Joe broke the strained silence. “Her name is Bethany Shear.”
“Okay.” She struggled to remain focused. “I’ll do my best.”
“She recognized your last name,” Joe said. “Apparently, she worked with Brady and Grace back when Caleb was missing.”
“You mean when he was kidnapped and basically rescued himself?” She had to smile at how Caleb had been brave enough to run away from themean manas he’d called the kidnapper.
“Exactly.” Joe smiled, and his craggy features became that much more attractive.
Talking about Caleb’s bravery at the ripe old age of six helped give her the strength to pull herself together. This was hardly the time to fall apart. The danger was over. The sooner she worked with Bethany to identify the shooter, the sooner he would be arrested and tossed behind bars.
The entire city would sleep better when this guy was safely in police custody.
“My siblings have faced a lot of adversity over this past year.” She glanced at him. “It seems the Finnegans are magnets for trouble.”
“Funny, I would have said Finnegans were magnets for love the way everyone is getting married, engaged, and having kids.” Joe shrugged. “There’s trouble everywhere, Elly. It’s how you manage it that counts.”
Maybe he was right. She fell silent as he pulled into the district six Milwaukee Police Station. There were several districts for their large city, and she assumed this one had jurisdiction over the shooting incident. Rhy and his team primarily worked out of this district, while Alanna’s fiancé, Reed Carmichael, worked out of district five.
Swallowing her nervousness, she climbed out of the squad and followed Joe inside. The bright lights made her squint until her eyes adjusted. The clock on the wall read nine thirty at night, making her realize she’d spent hours at the scene of the parade.
“You must be Elly.” An older woman with dark hair threaded with gray came over to meet them. “I’m Bethany. Are you ready to get started?”
“Yes.” She injected confidence into her tone, lacing her fingers together to hide the tremors. This sketch was important. Maybe the most important thing she’d ever do, other than warning Joe about the shooter. She could not mess it up.
“Great, this way.” Bethany led her through a maze of cubicles. They stopped in one cubby where there were already two chairs set up, along with a sketchbook and colored pencils. “Please take a seat. I want you to be comfortable, okay?”
“Okay.” She shrugged off her winter coat and took the chair across from the one where the colored pencils had been set out. “I’m ready.”
