rested heavily on him, but he tried to ignore it as he took his own chair. “So, have you done a ride along before?”
She paused, then nodded. “I have. In Charleston. Not over the course of several days, the way I’m going to do here. But I did a day here and there.”
“Did anything interesting happen?”
She shrugged. “Not really. Some traffic stops. Nothing terribly dramatic.”
And had that disappointed her? he wondered. Had she been craving excitement? Adventure? Was that what this was really about? But no, she hadn’t been any more thrilled with this partnership than he’d been. And despite their kiss, or maybe because of it, she probably still wasn’t.
“We’ll head over to SFPD where you can watch some of the intake procedures. We’ll also keep track of specific calls and respond to the most interesting ones. We’ll just be observers. Patrol will handle the action. I know you’ve got a job to do, but so do I. The main thing we’re going to be focused on is your safety. You’re not going to do anything to endanger yourself. Is that clear?”
She raised a brow. “I had no plans to do so, so that’s comforting.”
“I just want to make it clear—this isn’t about you trying to save anyone.”
Now she frowned. “The program I’m advocating is all about preventing harm and saving lives, but I wasn’t planning on diving in front of a bullet for anyone today. Not even you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“Then whom, exactly, are you worried about? And what makes you think I’d endanger myself to help a total stranger?”
When he didn’t immediately answer, her gaze flickered down to his desk and the papers there. He knew the instant she figured out what they were—old press coverage of her sister’s suicide—when her face paled. He didn’t like the flash of pain on her expression and immediately wanted to shove the papers into the trash. Away from her view. But he forced himself not to. He had a point to make. An important one. Her past was painful, but it was best he knew about it. Best she knew he knew about it.
“I’m sorry about your sister,” he said softly. “About Elizabeth Davenport, too.”
“But?” she asked snappishly.
“But a woman on a crusade is a dangerous thing. That’s why we need to discuss these things now. Before we hit the road.”
She said nothing else. She refused to say anything else. And he refused to give in to his sudden urge to shift guiltily, as if he’d done something wrong. To counter the feeling, he went on the offensive.
“You told me about Elizabeth. Don’t you think you should have told me about your sister, too?”
Her eyes widened. “Why? The only reason I told you about Beth was the threatening note. It was relevant. Rachel’s death...isn’t relevant to anything at all.”
She was lying. He knew it and so did she. Something like that would be relevant to everything she did, but before he could respond, she stood. “Besides, telling you would have been too easy. It would have deprived you of the pleasure of doing your little detective thing, right? I knew you’d look into it anyway and find out yourself.”
But her last words didn’t ring true. She’d been truly blindsided by the fact he’d dug up information on her sister. Or maybe she’d just been blindsided by the fact he was making her talk about it.
“My little detective thing, huh?” he asked softly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s really nothing little about me.” She blushed and he’d bet she had to forcibly stop her gaze from dropping to his crotch. Not so much to admire him, but to put a curse on him. “Besides, sounds like rationalization to me.”
“I’m nothing if not rational. Believe me, your warnings are unnecessary. I don’t have a death wish and I don’t plan on endangering myself to help strangers in some misguided attempt to save my dead sister. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Yes,” he said quietly.
“Great. Then how about you tell me something now?”
“What is it?” he asked warily.
“Who in your past endangered herself to help others? Your mother? Your sister? No, your girlfriend.” He stiffened and she nodded. “Was she a psychiatrist? Is that why you hate my profession so much?”
“Yes, she was my girlfriend. Well, ex-girlfriend, but still. And yes, she was a psychiatrist. And while hate is too strong a word, I admit I’m leery of those in your profession because she died and she