satisfying life filled with goals and surrounded by plenty of people who loved her. Arilyn lifted the bunch of sage in the air, closed her eyes, and envisioned a home filled with love, peace, and light. The smoke trickled in thin wisps as she moved from room to room, including the closet and bathroom, paying particular attention to the bedroom and kitchen where most intense emotions were expressed.
Finally, the cottage was properly cleansed. She blew out the flame, moved the small pots containing her herbs to the windowsill for proper light, and grabbed the bottle of celebratory wine in the refrigerator. She deserved alcohol tonight. It would go nicely with her veggie burger and steamed edamame. First, she’d complete her asanas, do some pranayama, and then eat. Tomorrow, things would look better and she’d feel stronger. Peaceful. Back in control.
Arilyn was sure of it.
two
WE’VE GOT A problem, Petty.”
Stone sat in the battered chair and tried to look unconcerned. When the chief called him in and shut the door, he knew he was screwed. The question was simple. How screwed was he?
Since the incident, he’d been whispered about, endlessly questioned, and judged from his past. Devine backed him up and denied he beat up the husband, citing self-defense. Of course, the blood, bruises, and almost concussion were pretty good evidence. Seemed no charges were filed, though, due to the domestic abuse problem and the child who ended up in the hospital close to having brain trauma.
Thank God, she’d finally been discharged, and she and her mother had disappeared into a women’s shelter.
Basically, the whole incident was a clusterfuck of mega proportions. All because he didn’t wait for Devine and lost his infamous temper.
Chief Will Williams, aka the Dick, stared hard at him from behind a mess of paperwork, pizza plates, and empty Big Gulp Dr Peppers. He despised paperwork, investigations, and anything that brought any tarnish to the small Verily police force. Till now, Stone had been clean, especially with Devine backing him up. The Dick looked upon Devine as the golden boy on the force. As Devine’s partner, Stone had crept up on the chief’s approval ladder.
“I’m sorry, sir.” He kept his voice low and respectful. “I screwed up, I know I did. But he almost killed his daughter, and I had to move fast.”
“Oh, you moved all right, you son of a bitch. Do you know what would have happened if the jerk had sued the force? I’m talking newspaper headlines. Page one. We’d be done. Understand?”
“Yes. It won’t happen again.”
“I can’t risk it happening again.” Williams rubbed his forehead, and Stone got a bad feeling in his gut. He’d figured on a tongue-lashing, maybe probation, but this looked more serious. What would he do if he got fired? Panic flared, but he fought it back down. No way. He’d do anything needed to stay. “Look, Petty, you’re a good cop. Thorough, badass, and I still think a good addition here. The guys like you. But this anger scares the crap out of me. It’s the reason you left your last precinct, and I don’t need baggage following you here.”
“I’ve been here a year already, sir, without incident.”
“All you need is one incident to banish all the good. If you want to stay, I have some new terms.”
Relief hit. Okay, this he could deal with. A few sessions with the shrink, maybe. A slap on the wrist. Forced vacay. Whatever he got hit with, he’d do it with a smile and show his boss he could be trusted.
“Of course. Whatever you think is best, I’ll do it.”
Williams choked out a laugh. “Let’s hope. You’ll be enrolled in a six-week anger management class.” He pulled out some papers from a thick manila folder and threw them on the desk. “Suspension for two weeks. Devine has already been briefed. He’ll remain your partner when you return, but he’s lead and you follow.”
Stone winced. He hated playing second when they’d been equals, but, hell, he’d swallow it. Two weeks with no work was scary, but he’d swallow it, too, since he had no choice. But anger management? Yikes, that was a new one. He grabbed the paper and began scanning the document.
“And don’t think you’re gonna show up at these classes and breeze through. From what I’ve heard, she’s hard-core and incorporates an array of unorthodox treatments. In other words, it’s gonna be hell.”
Private counseling sessions. Yoga? No way. What did yoga have to do with anger management? Charity and community service?