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TWENTY

“So, what do you think?” Erin asked after Adrian left.

“He believes us.”

“How can you tell?”

Kaely smiled. “Body language. When someone is being honest, they lean toward you. Adrian’s legs were relaxed, and he met our eyes. Remember when he first sat down, he leaned back in his chair and seemed rather jumpy?”

Erin had noticed, but she’d concentrated more on what he’d said. Kaely was right. In fact, when he changed his body language, she’d felt more relaxed. Must have been an innate understanding that his attitude had changed.

“Okay, I get it,” she said. “I learned to read body language when I was on the force, but only the more obvious reactions. We had to anticipate someone’s actions in case they were getting ready to pull a gun or a knife. But we weren’t taught the more subtle signs.”

“While we’re together, I’ll try to teach you more about it,” Kaely said. “I’m sure you could use it in your books.”

Erin shook her head. “Not sure there will be any other books.”

“You still haven’t decided what you want to do?

“No. My agent keeps calling, and my editor has left several messages. The publisher has even offered a larger advance and an increased royalty percentage. It’s a great offer. I just don’t know if this is what I want to do with my life.”

“You enjoyed writing the first book, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” Erin said. “But like I told you, it was a way for me to live out my dream.” She shrugged. “That dream was to be a behavioral analyst for the FBI. Not to be an author.”

“You told me that writing the book helped you.”

“In some ways, yes. I had nothing else to do. I needed something to fill my days. Working on the book accomplished that. But it wasn’t everything I’d hoped it would be.”

Kaely stared at her for a moment, making Erin feel a little uncomfortable.

“Can you explain that? I’m not sure I understand.”

Erin frowned at her. “Did they train you how to interrogate suspects in the FBI?”

Rather than look offended, Kaely laughed. “Actually, we didn’t do that at the BAU. About the only interrogation we administered was to each other. Sometimes it helped us to write a profile if we picked each other’s brains.”

Erin was sorry that she’d snapped at Kaely and grateful that she didn’t seem upset. It wasn’t Kaely’s fault that she had certain sore spots.

“Like I said, working on the book helped me in several ways,” she said. “But it also made me realize that I had no chance of ever living out the life I was writing about. That made it harder.”

“You know, it’s true that leaving the police department could hurt your chances of joining the FBI—and becoming part of the BAU. It depends on whether or not you received counseling. If you required heavy meds. A doctor would probably have to provide a written assessment stating that your symptoms were minimal. You might even have to pass a psych evaluation administered by a Bureau psychiatrist.”

“So simply being a coward isn’t a problem,” Erin snapped, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

“You’re not a coward, Erin,” Kaely said gently. “You went through something horrific. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t have been affected by what you experienced that night. I’ve known agents with the Bureau who took their own lives because of the pressure of the job and the things they saw. You’re still here. And you’ve become a bestselling author. These aren’t the attributes of a coward.”

Erin bit her lip. They’d just ventured into dangerous territory. She felt closer to Kaely than to anyone she’d ever known, but she wasn’t ready to talk about the locked box she’d been keeping in the closet at home. The box that was now upstairs in the bedroom. Although part of her wanted to tell the truth, she just couldn’t do it. Kaely told Adrian they were both armed, but it wasn’t really true. She’d told Kaely she’d brought her gun, but she hadn’t told her that she hadn’t picked it up since that night. Or that it was locked away because she was afraid she might use it on herself. She may not ever be able to ever share that shameful truth with anyone. Not even Kaely.

“Thanks, but I barely leave my house. I jump every time the phone rings or someone knocks on my door. I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“I’ll say one other thing, and then I’ll leave this alone,” Kaely said. “I’m certain there are a lot of police and former military who have applied to the academy and who have dealt with PTSD. There’s a process for evaluating the severity of their symptoms and determining whether it would interfere with decision-making and job performance. If you want, I can check it out. Find out if you’d be a viable candidate.”

Erin shook her head. “No. At least not for now, anyway. I was in pretty bad shape when I quit the department. I’m fairly certain the FBI wouldn’t be interested in taking a chance on me when there are so many other qualified people who apply to the academy.”

“Well, let’s table that conversation for now,” Kaely said. “But you didn’t answer my other question. Was writing that book so unsatisfying that you have no desire to do it again?”

Erin sighed. “No, it was satisfying. In fact, I actually enjoyed it. Especially the research. I loved that part. I enjoy learning, and you were so helpful. I truly couldn’t have written the book without you. And making up stories? It can be exciting. But I learned that writing the book is the easy part. After that comes the editing... again... and again. But that’s still not the worst part.”

Kaely grinned. “The worst part was all the money you made?”

Erin grunted. “No, the promotion. For crying out loud. I hoped people would read the book and just... like it. Tell other people about it. But it was this interview and that podcast and a book-signing tour—which I refused to do, by the way. I’m a very private person, Kaely. I don’t want to...”

“To let people get to know you? To realize that your book meant something to your readers, that they want to connect with you?”

Erin clasped her hands together. “Look, being a police officer is one of the toughest jobs in the world. Over the last several years, we’ve seen more and more distrust and animosity toward the police—the people out there putting their lives on the line to protect others. The police should be heroes—not villains. Trust me, no one in uniform hates the bad apples more than the officers who work with them. But to many people, one abusive officer means they are all like that. It didn’t matter that most of them face danger, death, and the destruction human beings can visit on each other in an effort to keep them safe. I’m only bringing this up to emphasize the difference between being a police officer and a writer. The men and women I worked with should get accolades for what they do. But for the most part, they don’t. And that’s fine. That’s the job. But I write a book, and suddenly I’m in the spotlight? It doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s like I’m suddenly on display. Not just my story, but me. ” She sighed. “I’m not saying this right.”

“You said it just fine,” Kaely said with a smile. “I get it. As a police officer, everything was focused on your job. You were a public servant. As a writer, you feel exposed. Vulnerable.”

Erin shook her head. “I take it back. You do get it.” She shrugged. “I’m not used to it, Kaely. I just hate the attention. Don’t get me wrong. I like people...”

“Are you sure about that?”

Shocked, Erin could only stare at her.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” Kaely said softly. “Did you have any friends besides your fellow officers?”

Erin’s mind drifted back to her previous life. It seemed so long ago. She had no family except for a sister who was probably dead. The police department had definitely become her family. And now, that was gone. Several of her former friends on the force had tried to stay in touch, but one by one she’d pushed them away. Once she was published, it seemed as if they’d given up.

“I guess not,” she said finally.

“So the only human beings you were around, outside of your fellow officers, were criminals. I’m sure there were people who appreciated you, Erin, but like you said, many didn’t. You had to deal with people who hated the police. But those who want to connect with you on social media or who come to a book signing don’t hate you. They’re not criminals nor are they the people who don’t trust the police. They love your books, and they love your characters. Law enforcement characters. Do you understand?”

“You’re saying I think everyone out there is against me, right?”

“Is it true?”

“You know, if you keep answering my questions with other questions, I might start getting a little irritated,” Erin said.

“No, you’re not.” Kaely grinned at her.

“Okay, I’m not. And I get it.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “I enjoyed writing the book, okay? And I guess I could get used to the rest of it, but goodness. Why can’t I just write books and still have a personal life?”

“I’m sure you can. But why not just give it a chance? Who knows? You might find out you like people after all. I mean, you like me.”

“Let’s not get carried away, okay?”

“Very funny,” Kaely said.

Erin smiled at her. “Now, if you’re through giving me the third degree, can we get to your profile?”

“Sounds good. I told Adrian I’d have something ready for him by tomorrow. I wouldn’t normally rush this, but my main priority is spending time with you. And with a possible storm coming in, I think getting it done tonight would be best.”

Erin nodded and brought the pictures up on the TV again while Kaely gathered their notes together. As she clicked through the photos, Erin tried to concentrate on what she was seeing. But her mind was full of the questions Kaely had asked and the answers she wasn’t certain she was willing to accept.