Page 71 of On a Deadline

The inside of the cruiser smelled faintly of coffee and rain. She turned the key, but didn’t drive. The radio played fragments of dispatch chatter, the kind she’d normally monitor. Tonight it just sounded like noise.

She could still hear Jamie’s voice in her head, smooth and professional, saying Lila Grant’s name out loud. Saying the thing she wasn’t supposed to say. The thing Erin had handed her like a loaded gun.

Her chest tightened. She’d spent her career building trust with the department, proving herself to men who never thought she belonged in the first place. One mistake, and it was all gone.

When she finally started the engine, her hands were trembling.

The drive back to HQ blurred together. Streetlights smeared across the windshield, and her thoughts tripped over themselves in useless circles. She replayed every second of the conversation, Jamie’s face, the way she’d saidplease, the silence after. There was no version of it that didn’t end with her own voice sinking her.

The parking lot was mostly empty when she pulled in. She didn’t even remember the drive, just the jolt of her tires bumping the curb. Inside, the building was quiet, but word had clearly spread. Heads turned as she passed through the hallway toward the comms office.

Her desk light was still on. Papers from earlier sat in neat piles, press drafts she’d been proud of hours ago. She sank into her chair, trying to steady her breathing.

Her email was already flooded. Messages from reporters asking for confirmation, the mayor’s office requesting a formal statement, Command forwarding directives. She moved on autopilot, typing, deleting, rewriting the same two lines: “The department can confirm the victim has been identified as Lila Grant. Next of kin have been notified. Further information will be released at the discretion of Command.”

Her cursor blinked at the end of the sentence. She stared at it until theletters blurred. She hit send.

The room felt colder after.

Her phone buzzed against the desk. Collins. She picked up.

“Sir?”

“You still there?”

“Yes.”

“Captain wants you in his office.”

Her stomach twisted. “Now?”

“Now.”

The line went dead.

She straightened her blazer, though her hands were still shaking. The walk down the hall felt longer than it should have. Every sound—the squeak of her shoes, the hum of the fluorescent lights—pressed against her skull.

When she stepped inside, Captain Vega was seated behind his desk, arms folded. His expression wasn’t angry. That somehow made it worse.

“Close the door, Calhoun.”

She did.

Collins stood off to the side, jaw tight. Vega motioned for her to sit.

“I’ll make this quick,” he said. “What happened tonight can’t happen again. You’ve been one of our best communicators, but this is serious. The mayor’s already demanding accountability.”

Erin nodded, throat thick. “I understand, sir. I take full responsibility. It was my mistake.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his mouth. “For the record, we believe you when you say it wasn’t intentional. But that doesn’t change the optics. Effective immediately, you’re being placed on administrative leave pending review.”

The words landed like a physical blow. “Sir, please—”

“It’s temporary,” Vega said, firm but not unkind. “We’ll sort it out after things cool down. For now, hand your badge over and go home.”

Her mouth opened, then closed again. There wasn’t anything left to say.

She slid the badge from her belt, the metal cold against her fingers, and set it on the desk. It clicked when it hit the surface.