Her Last Breath: A Kate Burkholder Novel

business-as-usual meeting. They are, after all, politicians. Best case scenario, they’ll sanction additional budget for overtime. Worse case, they’ll send me off with a pat on the hand and a warning to get my labor cost under control.
    I look at Auggie, but he glances down at the notepad in front of him, pretends to jot something. I let my eyes rest on each member of the council. Dick Blankenship. Ron Zelinski. Bruce Jackson. Norm Johnston. Janine Fourman. They are citizens, like me, doing their best with the resources they have. At least that’s what I tell myself as I wrap it up.
    “We appreciate what you’re up against here, Chief Burkholder,” Zelinski says earnestly.
    “But if the funds aren’t there, they’re not there,” Norm Johnston puts in.
    “We simply don’t have the money,” Janine adds.
    “Hold on.” Auggie steps in, taking control, aware that this is his show and he’s the star. “Kate, let me get with the bean counters, see if there’s anything they can do, okay? I’ll get back to you in a couple of days.”
    Everyone at the table nods, looking pleased with themselves, and for an instant I struggle not to laugh, because they look very much like bobbleheads.
    *   *   *
    On the short drive from the council meeting to the police station, I can’t help but think of all the pet projects to which monies were allocated as a result of political back-scratching, and I kick myself for not pointing them out. But I know it wouldn’t have mattered; it definitely wouldn’t have helped my cause. The last time I took on the council, I was accused of not being a team player. The fact of the matter is, they were right; I’m not a team player. If I can do something better on my own, without having to rely on someone else—especially if there’s a life at stake—fuck the team. If I want to keep Mattie and David safe, I’m going to have to do it myself.
    I’m still angry when I walk into the station. Mona looks up from her place at the switchboard. Her mouth falls open when she notices my black eye. “Whoa.”
    “Whatever you do,” I mutter as I head toward the coffee station, “don’t tell me I look like shit.”
    “Actually, Chief, I was just thinking you look kind of good roughed up. I mean, in a badass kind of way.”
    I can’t help it; I laugh. “I love you, Mona.”
    Lois emerges from the hall with a box of office supplies in her arms. She nearly drops a ream of copy paper when she notices my face. “Janine Fourman didn’t do that, did she?”
    I’m in the process of pouring coffee and laugh so hard I slosh some over the side of my cup. “She would not survive the attempt.”
    Lois reaches the desk and sets the supplies next to the switchboard. “Judging from the look on your face, I’m assuming the council meeting didn’t go well.”
    “That would be an understatement.”
    Passing the headset to her counterpart, Mona meets me at the coffee station. I try not to notice that she’s looking at me with a little bit of awe in her eyes. “There’s ice in the fridge in the back, Chief, do you want me to make you an ice pack?”
    “If you don’t mind, that’s probably not a bad idea.” Armed with coffee, I head toward my office.
    My computer has gone through the lengthy process of booting up, and I’ve just opened my e-mail software when I hear a tap on the door. I look up to see Mona standing outside my doorway, ice pack in hand.
    I motion her in. “Thanks.”
    Waving off my gratitude, she hands me the pack and takes the chair opposite my desk.
    Gingerly, I set the pack against my cheek. “Your shift ended an hour and a half ago,” I point out.
    “I stayed late to work on tip-line stuff.” She shrugs. “I guess I lost track of time.”
    “You know I can’t pay you overtime.”
    “I know it’s not for lack of trying, Chief.” Blushing, she looks away. “We know you go to bat for us.”
    My chest swells with unexpected force. “Thanks for saying that. I needed to hear it.”
    Shrugging off my thanks, she shoves two sheets of paper at me. “I put the tip-line stuff into a spreadsheet. Twenty-two calls so far. I thought you might want a peek.”
    I take the papers and find myself looking at a table with column headings for the date and time, the name and contact information of the caller, and the particulars of the tip. I’m impressed by the level of organization and attention to detail, and I feel a little guilty because she’s good at what she does