Page 27 of Cross the Line
In my peripheral vision, Carlson's expression shifted from controlled neutrality to something harder. Concern flickering across his features.
Sergeant Chen moved forward. Authority sharpening her words. "That's enough, Sergeant. This is a workplace, not a schoolyard."
But emboldened by his audience, the man talked over her. "Everyone knows why your last partner requested transfer. Couldn't handle how you looked at him, could he? And now they've given you a pretty new toy..."
I moved before I made the decision. One moment at my desk. The next crossing the space in long strides that ate the distance between us. My blank face made officers step hastily aside. Years of boxing had taught me how to move with purpose. How to close gaps efficiently.
"Detective Hawley," Chen warned. Her voice seemed distant beneath the roaring in my ears.
The distance vanished before my rational mind could catch up with my body. My fingers twisted in his collar. Yanked him forward until coffee sloshed over the rim, spattering across pressed uniform fabric. His pupils widened. He registered the cold fury in my face. Good. Let him see it. Let him understand exactly what line he'd crossed.
Silence dropped over the bullpen. Even the phones seemed to have stopped ringing. I was dimly aware that this was exactly the kind of impulsive action that had landed me in this probationary partnership. The roaring drowned out everything except the need to shut that mouth permanently.
"I'd reconsider your next words carefully, Sergeant." Carlson's voice appeared beside us with easy confidence that belied the danger. "Spreading rumors and false information won't make you a hero around here. And on another note, your fixation on Detective Hawley makes me wonder what you're compensating for."
His presence registered as steady. Unexpected. Somehow grounding. Though my gaze remained locked on Saunders's increasingly panicked features.
Carlson moved closer. His smile turned sharp as glass. Words pitched for maximum audience effect. "In my experience, the loudest homophobes usually have the most interesting browser histories. Should we have IT check yours?"
The space rippled with uncomfortable laughter as the sergeant's face flushed dark red. His gaze darted between my grip and that calculated smile. Trapped between two very different threats. The vibration of his swallow registered against my knuckles.
"Detective." Carlson, quieter now. A hand appearing on my forearm. Not pulling. Just present. A point of warmth against the cold fury. "Let's go find Min."
The contact broke my focus just enough for reality to reassert itself. The silent witnesses. Inspector Murphy's office door just meters away. Career-ending implications. I released Saunders with a slight push that made him stumble backward. Coffee dripped down his shirt front.
"Clean yourself up. And if you ever mention my personal life again, what happens won't be suitable for an audience."
His face contorted with humiliation and anger. He said nothing. Smart man. For once.
"We're leaving." I didn't look back. Dangerously calm as I turned away from where Saunders remained against the wall, straightening his collar with shaking hands.
I strode toward the exit. Paused only to collect my jacket and the printout with the PixelLab coordinates. The weight of every stare tracked our movement. The silence had transformed into whispers that followed us like smoke.
A step behind me, Carlson's nervous energy radiated. Nothing was said until we reached the stairwell. The heavy door swung shut, sealing off the bullpen.
"That fucking asshole. Who does he think he is?"
I kept moving. Focused on each step. On holding the rigid control I'd nearly lost upstairs. Fury still simmered under my skin. But I forced it down. The same technique I'd learned for managing every emotion that threatened my professional composure.
We reached the parking garage in silence. I unlocked the car. Slid behind the wheel. Waited for him to occupy the passenger seat before starting the engine. Rain drummed against the roof, creating a layer of white noise between us and the world.
"We should report him. That was blatant harassment. Completely unprofessional. I'm going to speak with Inspector Murphy as soon as we get back."
My attention remained forward. Hands positioned precisely at ten and two on the steering wheel.
"And you should file a complaint too. What he said was completely out of line. That's grounds for disciplinary action at minimum."
The wipers squeaked across the windshield. I adjusted the speed setting.
"Are you even listening to me? Hawley? Why aren't you saying anything?"
At a red light, I watched rain streak down the glass in chaotic patterns.
"I'll speak to the Inspector. But you should consider requesting different accommodations."
His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"You'd be more comfortable elsewhere."
