only person he’d told about his problems had been Lana. And the only reason DeMarco had finally decided to confide in her was because he’d trusted her. Respected her. Liked her.
He didn’t feel the same way about her replacement.
Not that the new staff psychiatrist was a bad guy, at least DeMarco had no reason to think that, but he was a stranger nonetheless.
No way was DeMarco going to admit to nightmares and fucking impotency to a man he didn’t know. Even with Lana he’d held back. Still, talking to her about what had happened in New Orleans six years ago had helped.
Until, that is, he’d gotten the call last year.
Now, the nightmares were worse than ever.
Sometimes, when the horrible images wouldn’t leave his mind, he wished—
He looked in the direction that Simon had disappeared.
Sometimes he just wished he could talk to one of his friends about what had happened. About how much it was messing with his head. But the timing to talk to someone, someone who knew him and cared about him, was always off.
Last year, when DeMarco had been called to New Orleans for his “family emergency,” Jase and Carrie had been smack-dab in the middle of a complex serial killer case. And afterward...after that same serial killer had murdered Lana...well, everyone had been on edge.
DeMarco would have felt like the biggest pussy in the world if he’d gone crying to his friends after that. He’d told himself he’d start to feel better. When he hadn’t felt better, he’d told himself he’d reach out eventually. Only too much time had passed. Reaching out now seemed foolish. Weak.
His friends had problems of their own without having to deal with his shit.
No, he was fine. Tired. Stressed. But he’d deal.
Just like he always had in the past.
With a sigh, DeMarco punched the coins into the vending machine, grabbed his chilly soda and started to walk away.
He paused, however, when he heard Simon’s angry voice coming from the break room.
* * *
NINA STARED AT THE ANGRY man looming over her and inwardly cringed. A cup of coffee before driving home had obviously been too much to ask for. Calmly, she set her coffee cup down. “I assume you’ve spoken with Commander Stevens?”
“Are you trying to prove something here?” he all but snarled.
“Not at all. I’m assuming you’re talking about our new partnership? Because that wasn’t my idea.”
“This crock of shit program you’re trying to institute sure is.”
Nina took a shallow breath and urged herself to remain calm. “It’s not a crock of shit. We’ve been trying to get this program in motion for months. I talked to the chief of police about it before I ever met you.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s not supposed to make you feel anything. But I am wondering why the thought of working with me bothers you so much.”
“Two reasons. One, I don’t like you.”
He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. Yet she couldn’t help it—his words hurt her. Why? She barely knew him and his dislike was irrational, not based on anything she’d actually done. “You don’t know me well enough not to like me. You don’t like what I do. There’s a difference.”
“Not a big one.”
Nina crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your second reason?”
“You’re right. I don’t like what you’re trying to do. Force your mumbo jumbo beliefs on cops. We know what we need to do. We rely on our training and our instincts.”
“And being more educated about what is motivating other people can’t help you with those instincts?”
“When someone’s dangerous, it doesn’t matter what’s motivating them.”
“But it matters how you treat them, doesn’t it? If you knew someone was being coerced into doing something, wouldn’t you treat them differently than someone who is intentionally causing pain to others?”
She could see her words gave him pause. For all of two seconds. Then he shot back with, “It might impact how I feel about doing something, but it’s not going to change what I’d be doing.”
“I think you’re lying to yourself about that. You really think you would have been objective and neutral with Michael Callahan if you’d questioned him? No. And he would have retreated. Closed up. You wouldn’t have gotten the information that you needed to find Rebecca Hyatt.”
“I disagree with you. I would have gotten it.”
“By force?”
“If necessary.”
As she stared at him, she wasn’t sure she believed him. She had little basis for how she felt, but she had some. Before he’d known she was