“Tell the shooter that, Kate! Tell the guy who had you in his sights and pulled the goddamn trigger! All it takes is one bullet and one lucky shot!”

“It’s part of the job! You know that. You have to accept that, or this isn’t going to work.”

“That’s the problem! It’s not working, Kate!”

“You’re being unreasonable,” I say, but my voice has gone breathless.

“Am I? Tell me you don’t think about something happening every time you make a stop. When you’re out on some back road in the middle of the fucking night and you have no idea who or what you’re walking up on. Does he have a warrant? Does he have a weapon in the waistband of his pants? A shotgun on the floor? A knife on the passenger seat? Is he willing to use it to stay out of jail? Tell me you don’t keep your hand over your .38. Can you tell me that? Honestly?”

“Of course I think about it. Every cop does if he’s smart. It’s called caution and training, and those are the things that keep us alive.”

He stalks toward me. “Yeah, Painters Mill is a small town. It’s safe. It’s a regular fucking lovefest. But let me tell you something: It’s the rural cops in towns like Painters Mill that don’t have backup when they need it. Even if you can get to your radio, how fast can someone get there to help you if you get into a jam?”

“I’m aware—”

“You could have been killed today, goddammit!”

I don’t even realize I’ve taken a step back. I’m not afraid of him. I trust him with my life. But he’s formidable when he’s angry. “I wasn’t.”

“Is that all you have to say about it? ‘I wasn’t’?”

“You’re out of line,” I tell him.

“You’re goddamn right I’m out of line,” he says. “I’m worried about you.” He taps his finger against his temple, snarling. “How can you not get that?”

Neither of us speaks for the span of several heartbeats. I absorb everything that’s been said, and I struggle to settle my emotions and put my thoughts in order. “Okay, Tomasetti, everything you’ve said is true. I know sometimes things go bad. But it’s a worst-case scenario. Chances are—”

“I don’t want to take those kinds of chances!”

“This isn’t just about me and my being pregnant. It’s about you and your past and what happened to you. What happened to your family. You’re letting that get in the way, and it’s not fair.”

His laugh is cold. “Don’t bring them into this.”

“You’re overreacting—”

“I’m overreacting because I love you!” he shouts.