Nanny 911. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ climbed. And…jumped.” She plucked a clump of cobweb from her hair, glancing toward Quinn and her commanding officer with a questioning plea before pointing a finger at his daughter. “But, you shouldn’t try that. It’s too high. I’m, you know, taller. And a grown-up.”

      But the explanation had taken too long and Fiona had moved on to her real concern. Quinn’s hands curled into fists at his sides as Fiona walked right up to Miranda and held up her doll. “Petwa falled.”

      “Oh. Um, well…” She snapped her fingers. “That’s exactly why you shouldn’t crawl through ceilings.”

      Fiona stared.

      Quinn gradually relaxed his protective stance. Not everyone got small children, nor knew how to communicate with them—and he suspected Miranda Murdock was on that list. But he could see she was doing all she could to allay Fiona’s worries.

      “Not that your dolly—Petra, is it?—would do that. She needs to stay close to you. On the ground.” Seemingly as flummoxed by his daughter’s fascination as she’d been with Louis’s idle flirtation, she looked to her captain for help. “Sir?”

      Michael nodded a dismissal. “Prove to me that you can get back out through that heating duct, and I’ll have Trip check the sensors there to see if they’ve been triggered by anyone else in the last twenty-four hours.”

      That, apparently, she could do. Needing no more encouragement, the twenty-something female officer climbed up on the desk and pulled herself back up into the ventilation duct in a skilled combination of pull-up champ and gymnast.

      “She’s…different, isn’t she?” Quinn observed.

      “Like I said, Murdock is gung ho. She’ll get the job done.”

      “Michael.” Quinn usually found his instincts about people to be unerringly accurate. “I have another favor to ask of you. Just how much faith do you have in Miranda Murdock?”

      Michael’s blue eyes narrowed. Perhaps he’d just had a similar brainstorm. “You’ve supplied my team with nothing but the best equipment since we first started working together. Your vest design saved my life from a bullet once. I figure I owe you.”

      “Then I have a proposition for you.” Quinn scooped Fiona into his arms, drawing her attention away from the dusty blonde angel and the grate that had closed over their heads. “We do.”

       Chapter Two

      Miranda stilled her breathing, calmed the twitchy urge to blink and squeezed the trigger of her Glock 9 mil, landing five shots, center mass, through the paper target’s chest. Then just for good measure, and because the accuracy score of her shooting range trials was one thing she could control, she angled the gun and put a hole through the paper target’s head.

      “You shouldn’t be alone at Christmas,” Dr. Kate Kilpatrick advised. The police psychologist was always full of advice during their sessions. “If your brother is still over in Afghanistan—”

      “He is.”

      “—then maybe you could volunteer at one of the city mission shelters, visit a shut-in in your neighborhood or invite a friend over for lunch.”

      And just which of her friends would be available on Christmas Day? Certainly none of the men on her team. They all had families—wives, children, in-laws. They’d be real gung ho about giving up holiday family time to keep the “odd man out” on their team from being alone on Christmas Day. Lonely was one thing. Pity was another.

      Miranda pulled off her earphones and pushed the button to bring the hanging target up to the booth for a closer inspection. Instead of heeding Dr. K’s recommendation to find some company after her mandated counseling session that afternoon, Miranda had come to KCPD’s indoor firing range in the basement of the Fourth Precinct building to blow off steam.

      All that touchy-feely stuff Dr. Kilpatrick wanted her to talk about got stuck in her head and left her feeling raw and distracted when they were done. Randy Murdock was a woman in a man’s world. Her brother, John, a KCFD firefighter who’d reupped with the Marines after the love of his life had married someone else, had raised her to understand that when the job was tough—like being a part of KCPD’s SWAT Team 1—that what she was feeling didn’t matter. Four other cops, and any hostages or innocent bystanders, were counting on her to get the job done. Period.

      No warm fuzzies allowed.

      Nodding with satisfaction that her kill rate had been 100 percent, Miranda sent the target back and cleared her weapon.

      “What are you thinking?” Dr. Kilpatrick asked after a long, uncomfortable silence.

      “That I’m not the only person with such a nonexistent home life that I’m available for an appointment the afternoon before Christmas.”

      “Ouch.” Observant though it was, Miranda regretted the smart-aleck remark as soon as she’d said it. But the therapist let it slide right off her back with a poised smile. “There you go deflecting the focus off yourself again. Deftly done, too. I could write an article about your classic avoidance tendencies. Always striving to please someone else instead of working toward your own goals. Using work or physical activities to avoid thinking about your feelings or dealing with the loneliness.”

      Sharp lady. Miranda hated that the police shrink might be onto something there. “So why are you here at four o’clock on Christmas Eve, Doc?”

      “To see you, of course.”

      “Sorry about that.” Miranda pushed herself up out of the cushy seat. “We’d better wrap things up then, hmm?”

      “Miranda, sit.” Dr. Kilpatrick wore a maternal-looking frown now. And though she’d never known her own mother, or maybe because of that, it made Miranda feel so unsure of how she should respond that she sank back into her chair. “You’re just as important as any of the other officers, detectives and support staff here in Kansas City.”

      “Yeah, that’s why I’m the low man on the totem pole on my team.”

      The maternal vibe became a supportive pep talk. “That’s nonsense. You’re a highly qualified sharpshooter. You passed all the same rigorous physical and mental exams as the other members of your team. Other than chain of command, you know it takes all five of you working together equally and complementing each other’s strengths to make SWAT Team 1 the success it is.”

      Miranda released the magazine from the Glock’s handle and pulled out the remaining blanks. Then she reloaded the clip with 9 mm bullets from the ammo box on the shelf in front of her and ensured her gun was in proper working order before returning it to the holster strapped to her right thigh.

      She was in the locker room showering when more of the conversation she’d had with the psychologist started replaying in her head.

      Dr. Kilpatrick had the patience of a saint. She could ask a question and wait. But the ongoing silence in the psychologist’s office finally got to Miranda, and she blurted out one of the few things that scared her. “Holden Kincaid is coming back.”

      “Kincaid? I know several Kincaids on the force. Which one is he?”

      “He’s the guy I replaced on SWAT Team 1 when he went on paternity leave. СКАЧАТЬ