Ready to Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

“No, it won’t.” Jeremy stood two feet away, glaring at her. She met his gaze over Bianca’s shoulder as he declared, “It wasn’t ‘okay’ when Dad was shot, and it’s not okay now.”

Don’t do this. Don’t engage with him. He’s hurting. Reliving his own loss. “I meant to say we’ll get through it, no matter what happens.”

“You really believe that? If Grayson dies, everything will be the same?”

“Oh, no, it won’t be the same.” She shook her head, felt Bianca’s tears on her shoulder. “It’ll never be the same.”

Pescoli called Santana less than an hour after explaining to her kids that the festivities she’d planned for Christmas would have to wait. She wasn’t about to rush through opening presents and a quick meal only to race back to the office. When things calmed down, then her small family would find some way to celebrate.

“So, are you calling me to tell me you’ve got an answer and we’re flying to Vegas for New Year’s?” he asked, sounding surprised and optimistic.

“Oh, God . . . no . . . I mean that’s not my answer, but, no, I don’t have one yet.” She took in a deep breath to calm herself. “Look, Santana, there’s been an attack . . .” Her throat closed for a second.

“An attack?” His voice was suddenly filled with concern. “What are you talking about?”

“Someone tried to kill the sheriff.”

“What? Grayson?”

“Shot him at his cabin this morning. Oh, hell, Nate, I saw it all . . .” She launched into the story, her voice wavering a bit, tears tracking down her cheeks. She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt as she related what had transpired, finishing with “. . . so after I got the okay, I left to come home, talk to the kids, and change.”

“I’m coming over.”

“No, not now. Everything’s crazy right now. I can’t even spend Christmas with the kids. I’ve got to go back to the office.”

She thought he might argue, but he understood; knew she wouldn’t back away from this kind of fight. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice softening.

“Fine.”

“You just witnessed—”

“I said I’m fine.” She let out a long breath. “I’m not going to rest, you know. Until the son of a bitch who did this is either dead or behind bars, I’m after his ass.”

“I know.”

God, she wished she could lean on him for just a second, feel his strong arms around her until she could pull herself together. Instead, she said, “I have to get back to work.”

He hesitated and she imagined the shadows chasing across his eyes. “I know. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do. Can I do anything?”

“Don’t think so.”

He waited a heartbeat, then said, “Look, Regan. I’m sorry. I’d like to help.”

“You do,” she admitted, her throat hot. “Let’s just leave it at that. Okay? I’ll call you later.” Before he could argue, she hung up, only taking the time to change her clothes before she left her kids with bowls of canned soup, crackers, and their cell phones in front of the television.

Cisco ran around her feet, sensing something was up. She patted him on the head, then called, “See you all later,” as she opened the door to the garage.

Jeremy looked her way. “Okay.” His face clouded, reminding her again of Joe and how much she’d loved him at nineteen.

Bianca didn’t lift her head, but she did mutter thickly, “Bye,” as she concentrated on her phone.

I’m sorry, Pescoli thought, knowing she’d disappointed them but aware they were getting old enough to understand that this year, Christmas would have to wait.

Hattie Grayson’s knees threatened to give way. She dropped onto her unmade bed and, with her free hand, held on to one post of the frame. “No,” she whispered, her voice a strangled cry as denial swept over her. Phone pressed to her ear, she said to the officer on the other end of the line, “You must be mistaken. You have to be.”

“I know this is a shock, but it’s true, Ms. Grayson. The sheriff was seriously wounded in the attack against him,” Detective Selena Alvarez was saying, her voice sounding as if it were coming from the end of a long, echoing tunnel. Hattie heard her heart pumping in her eardrums and, for a moment, blackness started edging into her peripheral vision. Not Dan. Oh, please, please not Dan.