Again, Brielle thought Faith sounded strange. “Anything you’d like to share?”
“No, nothing dramatic or important,” she answered. “Just promise you’ll be careful out there on the street.”
“I always am. When can you come out for a visit? I know Tex would love to see you. He and Melody are here for a while in their beach house.”
“Soon. Maybe within a couple of weeks or so. We’ll have to see.”
“You know you can trust me, right?” Brielle reminded her.
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, then, we’ll talk again soon, okay? I’ve got to run. I have a class starting in an hour and a half.”
“Yeah, sure.”
* * *
She knew it was a mistake to reach out to Brielle. She never could fool her. Faith gazed at a wall in her office filled with pictures and notes, the emerging story both unbelievable and bone-jarring frightening. Her skin turned icy, and she glanced behind her, as if expecting someone to creep up on her in the apartment. Faith transfixed her eyes on the wall. Her legs buckled beneath her, and she sank hard into her office chair. What she’d accidently stumbled onto while investigating why a prominent American businessman and his family disappeared off the grid made her physically sick with fear. Leaning over a wastepaper basket, she vomited.
Oh, God! How could something like this, something that threatened the very fabric of America, be happening? Wiping her mouth, she focused on her map. The west coast of the United States. Laguna Beach.
Brielle had no idea what was occurring right beneath her nose. And she couldn’t tell her. Not even Uncle Patrick.
* * *
Brielle’s badge hung from a chain around her neck. She shoved her Glock into a shoulder harness, strapped her department issued service weapon to her ankle, and grabbed her motorcycle helmet, her keys, and backpack. Her parents hated the fact that she rode a motorcycle, but since Malcolm threw her out of his apartment, she’d had to commute a little more than an hour to get to her precinct every day. The motorcycle came in handy during rush hour traffic as she was able to slip between lanes of bumper to bumper cars or ride on the shoulder, waving her badge for proof of right of way. And, she had to admit, she enjoyed the exhilaration of letting out the throttle and flying down the open highway.
Heading north, she thought about Faith. Her friend didn’t sound like herself at all. She didn’t even protest when Brielle never asked the name of the man she was supposedly dating but allowed her to change the subject. In the past they used to gush with excitement whenever there was a new man in either of their lives. No, something was definitely wrong, something Faith didn’t want to share with her. Well, she’d just have to pry it out of her the next time they spoke.
As soon as she arrived at the LAPD police academy in Elysian Park, Brielle sent her parents a quick text:safe and sound at PA. She knew if she didn’t keep in touch with them, they would worry about her, and her father wasn’t above calling out the entire police force to look after her.
After securing her motorcycle, she took a deep breath and entered the sacred halls of the academy which always filled her with awe. So much history had occurred inside these walls.
She located her classroom and took a seat. Eyes constantly watched her. Half of the men in the SWAT program hated and resented her for daring to apply and make it this far into a male-dominated elite unit. They treated her roughly, physically, and often made crude remarks that their instructors never heard. She knew their behavior was part of the reason Edie Perez gave up. However, as soon as they discovered Brielle’s family had deep pockets and connections to other wealthy families and to the White House, they toned down their attitude toward her. The other half welcomed her, albeit reluctantly, and treated her like she was their kid sister or one of the guys. With four older brothers, she was used to both. Sometimes, after their training sessions, she joined them for drinks or dinner when she wasn’t working out at the gym.
One of the officers, Howie Macklin, leaned over and whispered, “Any plans tonight?”
“Swimming laps and sparring with my PT.”
“Don’t you ever take a break?”
“Can’t afford to.”
“Wanna go out Saturday night?”
She had to give him kudos for persistence. He asked her the same question every day. “Sorry, Mack, I can’t.”
He grinned, not the least bit put off or disappointed. “Maybe next time.”
Brielle smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”
Officer Marcus Finnigan, Brielle’s biggest detractor, turned in his seat and glared at them. “Shut the hell up, Mack, and stop humiliating yourself. Andyou,” he addressed Brielle with a sneer, “I don’t want you on my team. You screw with our heads and that makes you a danger to all of us. I don’t trust you, and certainly don’t want you next to me in a life or death situation.”
Mack murmured, “Fuck you.”
At that moment their instructor strode into the classroom. He greeted them and got down to business. After two hours of instruction on tactical maneuvers, they spent another two hours running the obstacle course. At one point Finnigan bumped so hard into Brielle that she took a hard fall. Macklin held out his hand to assist her.
“Finn is sabotaging you,” he commented as he jogged next to her.
