"I can think of all kinds of things. She's got green eyes, and that snug little body. And she went out on that roof. Guy's sitting out on the ledge with a gun, a guy she's never met in her life, but she goes out."

"And you find that attractive?"

"I find it fascinating. And hot. You met her, right? What did you think?"

"I found her brisk and to the point, well bred and canny. And in possession of an excellent ass."

"I got her stuck in my head. Well, I think I ought to go see her, try to figure out why. You can give me a ride in, I need to pick up my car anyway."

After running a two-hour training session, Phoebe sat down at her desk. Her hair was pulled back, rolled at the nape of her neck, mostly to keep it out of her way. In addition, she thought-hoped-the style lent her some authority. A lot of the cops she trained-the male ones-didn't start out taking a woman very seriously.

They all took her seriously by the end, or they were out on their ass. She might have had an inside man in Dave to help crack the door open for her in the department. But she'd shoved the door wide, and earned her rank, her position.

Now, due to that rank and position, she had a pile of paperwork to push through. And she had to spend the afternoon in court, testifying on the circumstances of a domestic dispute that had gone south into a hostage situation.

After that, she needed to come back and finish up what she could. And after that, she needed to go by the market.

And after things settled down at home, she needed to hit the books, to prep for a lecture she was due to give on crisis negotiation.

Somewhere in there she needed to squeeze out time to balance her checkbook-long overdue-and see if there was any way she could afford a new car without robbing a bank.

She opened the first file, and got down to managing her little corner of the Savannah-Chatham PD.