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“I’ll pass that along to Liz,” he says, with a smirk. “But you should know she almost never listens to a thing I say when it comes to the calendar.”
I shake my head. I’m starting to regret moving back here.
Donoho chuckles. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about.” His face turns serious again. “You know we could use a new lieutenant.”
“Nah,” I say. “I tried that once. Didn’t go my way.”
He eyes me. “I read the file.”
“Then you know I’m not lieutenant material.”
“Says who?”
“Everyone in Macon?” I say this harshly—harsher than I want.
He sits back in his chair, and I feel like he’s sizing me up.
“I hear things,” he says. “Including things about your former captain.”
I frown. “Oh?”
“Baker? Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Guy’s a class-A jerk. Probably deserved the punch you threw.”
He. . .what? He’s on my side?
“Punches,” I say.
He folds his arms. “Even better.”
“That’s not how the chief saw it.” I have no interest in reliving this.
As if last night’s rehashing of the humiliation of being left at the altar wasn’t enough.
“Talk me through it,” he says. “Your side.”
I sigh.
“Humor me. It’s a slow morning.”
“You have my file,” I say.
He nods.
“So, you know—”
“I know about the learning difficulties, yes.” He studies me.
I pause. I don’t like talking about this stuff.
I give my head a slight shake. “Baker knew about it too, apparently.”
“And. . .?”
I grit my teeth, and I can feel my muscles tense.
“I overheard him talking about another guy at the station. Some kid, just a probie, who’d asked for accommodations. He was diabetic and needed a service animal.”
Donoho nods, seemingly getting it.
