Free Vigilare by Brooklyn James

to which she responds in kind, as he walks off.
    “Well, if that’s all, I must be going,” Father Trahern asks before standing from the desk.
    Tony and Gina quickly follow his lead, rising to their feet, extending their hands once again. “Thank you, Father,” they speak in unison.
    He ducks his head somewhere between a nod and a bow. “You kids come see me sometime, won’t you?”
    Gina and Tony glance to one another, knowing full well they cannot fib to a priest. “We don’t get down to your area of town much,” Tony replies.
    “But, if we do, we’ll stop in,” Gina adds politely. Tony elbows her in the side.
    Father Trahern smiles and walks away.
    “What’d you say that for?” Tony mutters.
    “I didn’t want to be rude.”
    “That’s just great, DeLuca. Now we have to.” He picks up the file from her desk.
    “Like it would kill either one of us.”
    “Obviously you’ve never been to confession.”
    “Maybe not. Or maybe I’m not as bad as you.” She smiles.
    “Now where’s the lightning going to strike?” He sidesteps her, purposefully giving her a wide berth, as he heads toward the exit.
    “Where are you going?” she calls after him.
    He spins around, holding the file against his chest. “Turns out William Truly’s an ex-Navy Seal. The training he must have,” Tony responds determinedly.
    “Let him have this one, DeLuca,” she coaches herself, resisting the urge to accompany him, compete with him, rather. She sits down at her desk, her hands laced behind her neck, eyes on the ceiling, contemplating the hectic events of the day, wondering just exactly how it all ties together...if it ties together at all.
    The sound of women’s heels clicking on the tiled floor interrupts her thoughts. A purposeful, flawless cadence, click-click-click-click. Oh great , she mumbles internally, while presenting a smile to Dr. Patricia Ryan who stands before her in a perfectly tailored designer pantsuit, accessorized with commanding four-inch heels. Her poise flawless. Gina refuses to speak first, causing Dr. Ryan to do the honors.
    “May I?” she asks, gesturing toward the chair across from Gina.
    Gina nods, her body stiffening from its previously relaxed state. She sits upright. “Help yourself.”
    “Looks like this case has you covered up, Detective,” she refers to the mounds of files and paperwork on Gina’s desk.
    Gina props her arms up on the bulky pile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
    Dr. Ryan scopes out her black eye. “Isn’t helping your beauty regimen, either.”
    “What do you want, Dr. Ryan?”
    “So much for pleasantries.” She smirks, meeting Gina’s ante, propping her arms up on the desk, her body language leaned forward and intense. “I know what you’re trying to do.”
    “Do tell.” Gina leans into her further, looking around, and continues with a sarcastic whisper, “That way I’ll know too.”
    “You and your boy . The department is coming down on you for answers. You need a fall guy for this case. Who better than the psychologist? ‘A bitter woman who is subjected to the vile scum that is a rapist. Poor lady, has to sit day in and day out listening to the truths of those pigs hearts, until she can’t take it anymore. Until she is forced to take justice into her own hands.’ Is that the way it’s going down? Does that about sum it up, Detective DeLuca?”
    Gina crosses her hands one into the other. “Ya know, Dr . Ryan, sounds as though you could use some psychological counseling yourself. Does the word delusional mean anything to you?”
    “You want to play word games? Okay. Incompetent. Buffoon. Washed-Up. Mean anything to you?”
    “I’d love to sit here and exchange civilities, but I’m afraid I have to highly recommend you leave.” Gina’s tone has turned icy, her jaw twitches. She files some paperwork, slamming the drawer to her desk shut. “Now.”
    Dr. Ryan smiles. “Well, Detective DeLuca, seems you have quite the temper. Tell me, how do you