Free Cry Havoc by Baxter Clare

Sooner or later she’s gotta fall. May as well be on this sword.”
    Frank grinned at Lewis, knowing right where to drop the bait.
    “That’d be a helluva feather in your cap, huh?”
    “Want us to run an interdiction on Carrillo?” the rookie asked.
    “Can’t hurt. I’ll ask the doc when we can expect the post.”
    “Yeah, catch her in between arias,” Noah cracked.
    Frank punched his shoulder. Hard.
    Next morning Tracey Jantzen flew across the mall into Frank’s arms with the force and emotion of a SWAT team taking a rock house. Frank laughed as she wrapped her arms around Noah’s wife.
    “For Christ’s sake,” Tracey cried, “Where the hell have you been?”
    Holding her at arm’s length, Frank pleaded that work was the culprit.
    “That’s no excuse and you know it. I’m starting to think you don’t love me anymore, now that I’m big and fat.”
    “Impossible. That day’ll never come.”
    Tracey smiled up at her, saying, “I’m so glad to see you.”
    “Me too.”
    Linking an arm through Frank’s, she commandeered her toward the Nordstrom entrance.
    “Come on, girlfriend, we’ve got shopping to do! So the opera, huh? That’s pretty hoity-toity.”
    “I don’t want to get all glammed up, I just want to look… nice.”
    “Nice, huh? Like gold lame with a thigh-split and plunging neckline?”
    “A little more modest.”
    “You know,” Tracey teased, “I’m awfully jealous. I thought I was the only woman of your dreams.”
    “You are,” Frank insisted, “but you’re taken. What am I supposed to do?”
    “You’re right,” Tracey agreed sensibly. “It’s time for you to move on.”
    She paused to feel a flimsy neon-pink blouse and Frank said, “I was thinking something a little more sedate.”
    “Not for you,” Tracey chided, holding the blouse up, “for me.”
    Frank nodded approvingly, but Tracey put it back. She tucked her arm into Frank’s, steering her through the store with practiced assurance.
    “So tell me about you and this coroner. Noah says she’s a babe. When do I get to meet her?”
    “We should have dinner. Invite us over. I haven’t seen the kids in months.”
    “Yeah, we’ll do that, but what’s she like? You’ve got to tell me all about her.”
    “Like what?” Frank stalled.
    “Everything. You must be gaga for her if you’re going to all this trouble.”
    “You gotta look nice for the opera. It’s the Pavilion. Opening night.”
    Tracey planted herself in front of Frank, arms crossed, and one brow arched high.
    “Everything? she demanded. “How am I supposed to dress you if I don’t know what your objective is?”
    “I’m not busting a Colombian cartel,” Frank laughed. “I don’t have an objective.”
    “Of course, you do,” Tracey insisted. “But you probably don’t even know it yet.”
    “Well, then why don’t you tell me. You and No always seem to know what I’m doing before I do it.”
    “How serious are you two?”
    “I haven’t asked her father for permission to marry her, if that’s what you mean.”
    “You’re evading the question.”
    “You’d have made a helluva trial lawyer. Too late for a career change?”
    Tracey glowered, tapping an impatient foot.
    “We can stand here all day or you can answer a simple question.”
    “Maybe it’s not so simple.”
    “For you, I’m sure it’s not. Do you love her?”
    “Jesus, Trace.” Frank looked for the hole in the ground she could dive into. “It’s only been a couple months. How am I supposed to know that?”
    Tracey tapped a nail above Frank’s left breast.
    “This’ll tell you.”
    Frank knew that was true. And she knew more than she could admit to. Some words were still just too hard.
    “I like her a lot. Okay?”
    “Now, see? That wasn’t so bad. And does she like you?”
    “Yeah, but I piss her off.”
    “No,” Tracey mocked. “I can’t imagine.”
    “What?”
    “Honey, I love you, but I can’t imagine being in love with you.”
    “Why