Free Anything You Say Can and Will Be Used Against You by Laurie Lynn Drummond

she leaned in close to him, each time she laughed. And he would have still tasted the aftereffects of the adrenaline rush from earlier, that need to feel again how alive he could be.
    At some point she would have reached out a hand, slid it along his cheek and up into the hair above his ear, her fingers gently raking his scalp; then she’d have smiled that liquid smile and pulled his face toward hers, told him, “Don’t think, cowboy, just kiss me.”
    And who among us could have said no, her body pressed up against ours, hands traveling down our back pulling us closer, the sweet intoxication of her tongue deep inside our mouth, the feel of her breasts, her hands fumbling with the buckle, then the snap, then the zipper on our pants, that quick shucking of clothing, the headiness of flesh wedded to flesh, slow and fast and again and again.
    Who knows how long they stayed there, talking and kissing and touching, Katherine playing with the hair on his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, his hands stroking the skin on her waist and hip, how very white her skin was under that uniform. And no one knows what he said to Ellen, his fiancée, when he returned to their apartment later that day—or even if he did return.
    We do know Richard arrived at the precinct that night looking tired, subdued, his eyes tracking every move Katherine made. She sparkled, laughed loudly and frequently, said, “Come on, cowboy” to him when roll call ended.
    â€œJesus H. Christ, Katherine,” Sanderson said as we walked to the back lot, a large bandage covering the hollow of her cheek. “Keep a lid on it.”
    â€œOh, Beth,” Katherine said, her voice light and playful, “go home and kiss your kids.” And she handed Richard the keys, brushing upagainst his shoulder as she told him to do the unit check before they left the lot. He smiled at her, a slow smile both tender and defeated.
    Later that night, after another impromptu shift gathering in an abandoned gas station parking lot that Katherine and Richard attended only briefly, Katherine seemed so soft and giddy that Boudreaux told Denux after they left, “She’s something when she’s happy, isn’t she?”
    â€œEven when she’s not,” Denux said. “Seems a little wired at times.”
    â€œThat’s Katie. Comes and it goes.” Boudreaux shrugged. “You won’t find a better cop, though. She killed a man once, didn’t blink an eye about it. Tough gal. Damn good training officer too. She used to train only rookies, but a couple years back, she started working with cadets.” He gave a short laugh, shifted in his seat. “That woman was a cop from day one, even as a cadet. Johnny and I knew.”
    â€œHer husband Johnny?”
    â€œYep, he and I were partners out of Broadmoor. Katie rode with him during thirteenth week when she was in the academy. You didn’t know? That’s how they met. She was so sweet and so fierce at the same time. She adored him. He trained her when she came out of the academy too. Hell of a cop, Johnny was. Never should have died.” Boudreaux flicked his cigarette out the window. “Let that be a lesson to you, boy. It can happen to any of us, no matter how good you are. And he was one of the best.”
    Denux was tempted to ask more, but he resisted. As he told us later, “It was just all too frigging weird.”
    The following week we returned to the academy, feeling even more constrained by the classroom after our time on the streets, bursting with the desire to be done with this. The next ten weeks dragged on in some ways—hour after hour in our seats, taking notes, trying to listen, the sky so blue and promising outside the high, small windows. But it also became more intense and focused as our goal grew closer. Richard mingled with us more frequently, despite seeming distracted. He came alone to some of our parties and drank heavily;