|
|
|
|
|
|
|
ing D.J. with the youngest crowd. Another teacher hovered in the hallway, watching to make sure D.J. behaved. She swallowed the lump in her throat and focused her attention back on the boy. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I'm not a policeman; I'm a woman. We like to call ourselves police officers. Saves confusion." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Not on me. I'm off duty, so I left it at home." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Awyou're no fun." He scrunched up his nose in disgust. "I thought we'd at least get to see your gun." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Guns are dangerous. I don't know if Cindy would appreciate having one in her day care." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"She's no fun neither. Always tellin' us what to do and how to do it. I wanna be a police officer. Then I'll tell everyone else what to do. And if they don't listen . . ." The towhead shaped his hand into an imaginary gun and pulled the trigger of his thumb. "Pow! Right between the eyes." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Bloodthirsty little cuss," D.J. muttered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Did you ever shoot anyone?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
D.J. started. Her mouth opened, then closed. Curious eyes surrounded her, waiting for an answer. She had no idea what to say. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She'd put the shooting out of her mind, burying the memory in that part of her where she buried all incidents in her life requiring an emotional response. She'd learned if she didn't think about things, they went away. She was very good at ignoring anything she put her mind to ignoring. But the little boy's question brought everything back to her in a rushthe cold night, the hot rush of adrenaline, the screaming kid on the pavement. |
|
|
|
|
|