“You hid it in the jam,” McCafferty says again, for what has to be at least the fifth time.  The amusement level in her voice edges upward with each repetition. 

We’ve moved back to the kitchen and she’s undertaken the final seasoning of the sauce, rummaging through a spice rack over the stove top seemingly at random, sprinkling and shaking with a practiced hand. 

Jinny is helping Amanda set the table; I’ve been excused after presenting a blank face when requested to fetch salad and dinner forks from the drawers in the butler’s pantry.

“Let’s have Cooper make the salad,” McCafferty said pleasantly, while Amanda peered at me in disbelief. 

“I can wield a knife,” I’d announced confidently, eliciting a snort of amusement from Jinny and another disbelieving look from Amanda. 

What can I say?  Some families throw dinner parties; some throw dinner plates.  The Finns are definitely among the latter. 

“In the jam,” I verify, whacking absolute hell out of celery stalks.  I hate the little fuckers but I’m not going to whine about celery in the salad considering how much McCafferty has agreeably tolerated today. 

She pauses on her way to the fridge and lifts an eyebrow at my handiwork on the cutting board. 

“I think it’s dead, Cooper.”

I indulge in an eye roll once her back is turned. 

I keep thinking she’ll ask me why in the jam but she annoyingly refuses to comply.  Of course, it’s highly possible she’s familiar with Jase’s theory reference searches and goopy food stuffs and gigantic fire proof boxes.  In fact, it’s possible he got it from her since she went into law enforcement long before he did. 

“You miss being on the street?” 

I think I’m as surprised at the question as she is.  She turns half around and knits her brows at me. 

“Where’d that come from?” she asks, squatting in front of the fridge and rummaging through jars on a lower shelf and muttering to herself.  “If she ate the black olives…”

“I have no idea.  I just think I’d be bored to tears.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, shoving herself up with the jar of olives in one hand and a yellow onion in the other.  “Like today for instance.  I’ve got an Inspector captured naked on film with a Senator’s daughter.  Not exactly something to yawn over.”

Well, I have to concede that.  I’m rather surprised by the laugh that sneaks up and bursts out of me though. 

McCafferty deposits the onion on the counter by the cutting board and smiles. 

“Careful, Cooper.  Or you might actually like me.” 

I blink and look up to find I am being intensely scrutinized at very close range.  Gulp.  She seems on the verge of saying something which I am certain will be terrifyingly intimate and Jase-related and probably not a good idea while I have access to a sharp instrument, when I’m rescued by the chirp of my cell phone. 

Or maybe not, I realize, since it could quite likely be my Lieutenant AKA Sarge who since I have now disobeyed a direct order will require me to refer to him as Lieutenant Wayne.  He’ll be in Marine Mode too; I’ll probably have “Drop and give me fifty!” bellowed into my ear drum as it ruptures.

I peer down at my waist where the phone is clipped and when McCafferty clears her throat lift my eyes to hers. 

She doesn’t ask it but she doesn’t have to; her head is cocked to one side, brows arched questioningly.  I sigh and lay the knife down and flip it open. 

If I’d been lucky it would have been Sarge.  I immediately recognize the rather nasal voice the moment it responds to my subdued hello. 

“Yes, hello. This is Dr. Kerry Weaver.  This number was on my pager and taken down by staff who is this, please?”
 
“Oh fuck,” I say and desperately extend the phone to McCafferty who takes it with a bewildered expression which only grows more confused when she recognizes the voice. 

Of course, she’s probably never been seared to the bone by that look of sheer disgust or banished from their house by a white-faced Weaver who can’t even look at you, you’re so loathsome. 

Then again, she’s probably not broken any bones there either. 

“Kerry?  It’s Kate.”  McCafferty holds the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she puts her back to me and returns to the stove and begins stirring the simmering sauce.  I listen apprehensively to her half of the conversation as I feverishly chop and slice and dice innocent veggies. 

“Yes, I did get it.  We got back this afternoon around three, I guess.  Haven’t had time to call you back yet though, I apologize, been a little crazy around here.  No, I doubt she’ll leave tonight.  There’s still a mountain of laundry left… No, actually, this is Cooper’s phone.  I’m assuming they left the number earlier, Jinny tells me they’ve been paging and leaving messages for you two all day.”

She taps the spoon against the side of the sauce pan, shutting off the flame, then turns around, leaning back against the counter top, casting an amused glance in my direction.

“Yes.  Would you believe Cooper has apparently hidden evidence in your refrigerator?  Yes, that’s what I said; in your fridge, in the jar of jam she took over Tuesday morning.  I can send Jinny over for it, if that’s all right.” 

She’s half-smiling, looking mildly in my direction and I know the exact moment Weaver begins the sordid tale of How Cooper Went Berserk On Our Staircase.  There are two slow blinks of the eye and then a rapid flick of them up to my face where they are no longer mild or amused.  She turns half away again, frowning, head ache line back between her eyes and a hand going up to rub at it. 

“I see.  No, neither of them mentioned it.  Is Kim okay? Good.  What exactly did she~~” She stops and looks up at me, frowning.  “Oh, I will be asking Cooper, yes.  Do you want to pursue any sort of~~ Alright.  We can discuss that later if you decide to, you know.  I could take her myself or I can have a couple of uniforms here by the time you arrive, either way.” She swivels to look at me and says deliberately, “Oh, she’ll be here.  She’s not going anywhere.”

Oh, shit.  I lay the knife down and put my elbows on the counter top, then lean my head into my hands and listen as the conversation is wrapped up, my brain churning almost as much as my stomach.

People drop dead all the time; strokes, aneurysms, brain embolisms, blood clots…  I rummage hopefully through a mental list of dead relatives but it’s a futile aspiration.  The Finn clan has selfishly left a legacy of suicides, fratricide, car crashes and liver disease.  No earthquake fairy and no mercifully swift death coming to my rescue. 

Jinny’s returned from the dining room and is eyeing me skeptically, then attempts a grin.  

“Okay; payback time.  Are you going to throw up? Are you gonna vomit?  You going to puke? Do you feel sick?”

It would have been very funny if it weren’t so incredibly likely at the moment. 

“All of the above.” I manage miserably.

“What?” she asks, bending over slightly and putting an arm around my shoulders.  I have an almost overwhelming urge to lay my head on her chest and bawl my eyes out.  You know, there ought to be a rule that once you have accumulated X number of fuck ups you could push a button and just end everybody’s problems.  Oh wait, there is.  Unfortunately I don’t have any explosives handy.  Typical.  Cooper Finn, dismally unprepared for events requiring dynamite.

McCafferty lays my phone down on the cabinet top and then stands there, waiting for me to look up.  Jinny’s hand runs soothingly along my shoulders and down an arm and she asks it again, this time of McCafferty, “What?  What’s happened?”

McCafferty clears her throat and then in a raised voice tells Amanda to feed the dog before Jamie arrives.  Once the door has clicked shut in the distance I can feel every ounce of attention being focused on me and I finally give up, telling myself to not be such a fucking woose and lift my head. 

“Better,” she says, but her voice doesn’t sound like it and her face is grim.  “You want to tell me what you did to Kim to make Kerry Weaver want to talk to me about possible charges being pressed on you for assault?”

I consider an honest “no” but decide it’s really risky right now to piss her off any further.  Jinny’s hushed, “Oh shit,” has already earned her a dagger glance and McCafferty looks like she’s not in the mood to take any more of my crap, even if it’s presented with a dazzling grin which I couldn’t manage right now anyway.

A sudden thought occurs to me though and is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.

“Did she say she’d bring the jam?”

I get the look which could peel paint.  There’s no need for the bellow and roar of a Marine when you’ve got a stare like that.

 Ouch.  I swear there are heat waves rising in the space between us. 

Jinny and I both begin talking at once but I override her voice deliberately. 

“Captain, she was trying to get to~~“

“I broke Dr. Legaspi’s arm.” 
 
It comes out defiantly, not because it’s what I feel at all but because I desperately don’t want to have to endure listening to Jinny spill her guts about the suicide attempt to her Captain.  I don’t think I can handle it.  I’d rather fade the heat over a broken wrist than listen to Jinny crucify herself to explain why I lost control. 

“You broke Dr. Legaspi’s arm.”   It’s repeated as a statement.  Her eyes are round and disbelieving, her voice the same. 

I nod.  “Yes.”  It comes out rather emphatically because behind me I can feel Jinny gathering energy for the next attempt.  There’s a fist thumping rather feebly against the back of my shoulder. 

McCafferty shakes her head and lifts both hands, gaping first at the ceiling and then at me, incredulously.  It’s a definite, “Why me?” to some Higher Power. 

“Did you have a reason?” she asks me finally, striving for calm and succeeding fairly well considering everything she’s been asked to handle already today. 

I search desperately to come up with one but what’s the fucking point?  Weaver’s on her way over anyway.  She was there.  She saw.  This isn’t a black eye on a violator who decided to protest being put in the back seat of a patrol car.  This isn’t me sitting down with a Ranger for a brainstorm/Creative Writing session to explain my firing off a round in the air to scare a fleeing, unarmed juvenile car thief into surrendering because I didn’t want to chase him around a pasture full of cactus and rattlesnakes.  Legaspi wasn’t under arrest, she wasn’t wanted, she wasn’t running; she was just standing on the staircase in her own house telling me she didn’t want me in it.  

So I look at her and shake my head, take a deep breath and shake it again.

“No.  I wanted her to move and she wouldn’t.  So I moved her. “

Jinny’s fist thumps harder and I risk a glance behind me. 

There’s a war going on back there; she can’t bear the thought of telling McCafferty she did something as weak and foolish and predictable as suicide.  She can’t stand the thought of possibly having the miracle of her Captain’s support withdrawn; can’t bear watching the disappointment and disgust she thinks she’ll see in her face.  She looks desperate and haggard as she tries to work up the strength to actually force the words out. And she’s miserable that she can’t bring herself to do it.  Her eyes are full and she ducks her head and swipes at her face shakily, her breathing thick. 

I shake my head at her and put a hand up over the one curled in a fist on my shoulder and squeeze it lightly for a second.   

“When will she be here?” 

McCafferty is gazing at me in sheer disbelief.  It’s obvious she can’t decide exactly how to react or what to do with me.  I’m not one of her officers and yet I am under her supervision while I’m here, so does she ream my ass out or does she remain calm and relay it to my Lieutenant and let him have all the fun?

“Later.  She’s still at the hospital.” She shakes her head in disbelief again and poses the question to me as if I am mentally challenged someway and might misunderstand her. 

“You broke her arm because she wouldn’t move.  That is what you are telling me occurred, is that right?  Because I can’t believe I’m hearing this, Cooper.” 

She’s not even my Captain and I’ve got the prickle-nosed, oh shit, I let her down feeling coming on. 

I make the mistake of glancing at Jinny again.  She stares at me from wide, glassy eyes, takes a huge breath and spills it.  It floods out in a rush as if a dam has burst.

“I OD’ed.  I overdosed.  Magda found me, took me to Kerry’s, Kim was angry because she thought it was Cooper’s fault that I did it because she  we~~“  She hesitates, frowning slightly and sliding her eyes to mine when she realizes she has just blundered into saying more than she intended, but she regroups and forges on.

“Cooper wanted to see me and Kim wouldn’t let her and she just put her down on the stairs, Captain.  She just~~“

McCafferty is frowning at her, eyes widening in disbelief and when she lifts a hand in a sudden motion, we both jump. 

 “I do not want to hear this.  I’m not going to hear this because me listening to it is telling you I condone breaking civilian’s arms when they don’t get out of the way!” 

The last is at a much higher decibel level than I’ve heard from her and at the end of it she leans forward and presses her fingers over her eyes, shaking her head slightly and muttering beneath her breath. 

I’m rather relieved I can’t hear it clearly.  What I’m catching is blistering.  I hear my name several times and the word “asshole” and “idiotic” and a rather loud “what in the name of God was I thinking?”

I peek at Jinny and she winces sympathetically and squeezes the hand she’s still holding.

When she looks up, McCafferty is composed, although furious.

“Have you written a report, Sergeant?  Notified your Lieutenant?”

Ack.  Back to Sergeant.  I shake my head no.  She widens her eyes and lifts her hands again as if to ask a sarcastic, “what was I thinking?” of some invisible deity. 

 “Of course you haven’t.  But you will.”  It’s not a question and I don’t treat it as such.  She waits for my nod and then at the look I am given I amend it to a hasty, “Yes, ma’am.” 

She smiles, rather unpleasantly and unties and tosses the apron she was wearing into the sink. 

“Jinny, I apologize, but I am fixing myself a drink. A stiff one.” 

She’s pulling bottles out of a cabinet when brakes squeal in the driveway and Amanda rushes through, casting flustered, threatening looks at the three of us. 

“That’s Jamie.  I gather some kind of stupid cop shit has hit the fan but I don’t want it ruining my dinner.  This is the first time Jamie’s been here to eat when we actually cooked anything and I’m asking you guys to please save it for when we’re out of here.  An hour.  Hour and a half tops and you can go back to snarling and stomping again and we’ll go to a movie.  Mom?”

“Agreed,” McCafferty says without turning and I hear the gurgle of liquid then the thunk as she sets the bottle down. 

Amanda turns to us, cocking her head to one side with a pleading smile, one hand on her hip. 

Jinny sighs out a tired, “Of course, kiddo,” making her grin happily, then she wheels out towards the garage door with a little skip in her step and hurriedly ducks to check her reflection in a mirror down the hallway to what I assume are the bedrooms. 

Jinny clears her throat uneasily and glances at McCafferty who has turned to face us again, and is leaning back against the fridge door gazing at us, arms crossed, drink propped on the top one.  She’s not frowning exactly but she is most definitely not smiling.  It’s more a level look of evaluation which makes me, at least, distinctly nervous. 

“So… she been seeing this guy long?” Jinny asks, obviously striving to mend things enough to reach that rather impossibly optimistic level of dinner gathering Amanda has requested. 

McCafferty snorts, looking upwards again and shaking her head. 

Jinny and I exchange somewhat concerned, bewildered looks and then are both taken aback at the muffled peal of laughter from McCafferty as she responds quizzically, after a slow sip and a tilt of the head to either side: “Yes.  And no.”

Jinny’s frowning and when I cut my eyes towards her in question she almost imperceptibly shakes her head, shrugging lightly. 

Amanda re-enters the room, beaming, shyly radiant and holding hands with the person she is tugging along behind her. 

“Jamie, this is Jinny Exstead, one of mom’s inspectors at the division and this is Cooper Finn, my cousin Jase’s girlfriend~~  Well, she was his partner too.  Cooper’s a cop.  She’s from Texas!”  She turns an ecstatic grin in my direction and urges me to say something in Texan for Jamie. 

“Ho-lee sheeeyit,” I utter, to the complete and total delight of both Amanda and Jamie, who is at least six feet tall, has a headful of tousled dark red-brown curls, beautiful blue eyes, a porcelain complexion to die for…and rather large breasts I can’t seem to not stare at.

“Holy shit,” I repeat in amazement to Jinny who is peering up at the girl in total consternation with at least fifty emotions flickering across her face in rapid succession as her eyes dart from Amanda to Jamie to me to McCafferty. 

Amanda smiles and shoves Jamie ahead of her towards the dining room, then spins around to frown and shake a finger at the three of us and mouths a stern, “No Cop Shit” quite clearly. 

When they’re safely beyond the swinging door Jinny and I turn to one another in profound amazement, eyes wide, expressions stunned. 

“Did you know?” she asks me in an astounded voice, which provokes me to whack her with one hand on a black leather shoulder. 

“Me?” I hiss, “You’re the one supposed to have that gaydar crap!  Didn’t you know?”

Jinny lifts her hands and shoves her hair back, shaking her head, her grin huge and shocked and rather dazed.  “Fuck no,” she spits out, laughing and we’re both giggling, trying to keep it muffled so Amanda won’t stomp out and lecture us. 

“I personally have always had my doubts about that gaydar,” McCafferty casually observes as she pushes herself off the fridge and strolls past us to the doorway. 

She turns to push it open with her ass and half-smiles at us both.

Then winks. 

 

END OF CHAPTER TWENTY NINE