Page 79 of Fighting For You

"Good. Keep me posted if anything shifts."

That was it. That was how it worked between us now. He gave orders, I followed them, I updated him on the patient's progress. Nothing beyond what the job required. After the dinner at his house, after what I overheard in the library, I stopped expecting anything warmer.

"Look at them."

Gracelyn held her phone out to me across the break room table. On the screen were four kids lined up on a concrete path outside a school building. They were smiling so hard their faces looked ready to split. Each one was dressed in a different traditional costume, bold colors and embroidered fabric, some with woven sashes, one of the girls in a dress with wide butterfly sleeves.

"These are your siblings?"

"All four of them. It's Buwan ng Wika. The schools celebrate it every August. The kids dress up in traditional Filipino costumes and do presentations about the culture, the languages, the history." She zoomed in on the youngest, a boy of about seven in a barong with sleeves that went past his fingertips. "That's Jun Jun. He told my mother the barong was too itchy and he wanted to wear a basketball jersey instead."

I laughed. "There are so many different costumes. Are they all Filipino?"

"They're all Filipino, but they're from different regions." She scrolled to a closer shot of the oldest girl, who wore a long skirt with geometric patterns in red and black. "That's my sister Mary Joy. She chose Cordilleran weaving because she studied it for a school project last year."

"That's beautiful."

Gracelyn looked at the photo once more, then locked her phone and slipped it back into her scrub pocket.

I watched her put the phone away with a smile still on her face. Four siblings, all in school, all dressed up and proud of where they came from.

That made me think about Ian.

School started in a few weeks. The last time we talked about it, he said he would think about going back. He never brought it up again, and I let him not bring it up because I was afraid of what the answer would be.

My phone buzzed on the table. I glanced down.

"Andy?"

"Nora, I need you to come to the precinct."

Her voice was calm, but it was her detective voice. Measured, controlled, professional.

"Is everything okay?"

"Nobody's hurt. Ian is here and he needs you. I'll explain everything when you get here."

My stomach dropped. "Andy, what happened?"

"Just come, Nora. I'll be here when you arrive."

The drive took twenty minutes. The parking lot at the precinct was full, so I parked across the street. My hands were shaking when I pulled the keys out of the ignition.

The front desk officer pointed me down a hallway. Andy was waiting at the end of it, standing outside an office with her badge on her belt and a folder in her hand. She looked like she did on the floor at CCMC when she came in for a case. Professional. Composed. Except her eyes were softer than that.

"Andy?"

"Nora."

"What happened?"

"Gang Crimes executed a search warrant on Rudy's Auto Shop this afternoon. The shop was running a chop shop operation. Stolen vehicles, VIN tampering, trafficking in stolen parts. Everyone on site was arrested."

I heard the words. I understood them individually. They didn't form a sentence that made sense.

"Ian was on site when they went in. He's one of the arrestees."

The hallway tilted. I put my hand on the wall.