Patricia entered her sergeant’s office slowly and sat down in the chair across from his desk. It had been weeks since the shooting, but its toll was evident in her shadowed eyes and pale, drawn face. She knew how she looked. Sleep had evaded her, allowing guilt to eat away at her, reminding her every second of her failure. She had been beaten on her own turf, in her own home, leaving Erin all alone to fight the demons that had come knocking. They were both extremely lucky to have survived, no thanks to her. Patricia cringed at the thought and raised a weak hand to her temple, unconsciously fingering the location of the throbbing in her head. Her tired eyes met her sergeant’s and she shifted slightly, realizing he was patiently awaiting her answer. “I’m fine, sir,” she lied, clearing her throat to allow her voice to sound stronger than she felt. “How’s the head?” Patricia’s hand quickly lowered from her temple. “Much better.” She offered him a soft smile, determined to hide the frequency of her headaches.
