* * *

The vast majority of the LAPD—not the elite brass or the top-level pencil pushers and executives but the actual cops who worked the streets and cases—couldn’t afford to live in Los Angeles. Last year, almost 85 percent of the LAPD lived outside of the city. By the end of this year, that figure, Ellie had been told, would be closer to 90 percent, thanks to a salary cap and another round of budget cuts.

Which was why a lot of cops now lived in Simi Valley, in Ventura County. It was thirty miles from downtown LA, right next door to Santa Barbara, surrounded by the Santa Susana mountain range. The biggest selling point was that it was cheap. “You should check out the Clara Anna Woods Mobile Home Park,” one of her academy instructors had told her. “It’s real affordable.”

Ellie had lived her entire life in small, cramped apartments. Moving into a trailer wasn’t exactly a step up in the world. She had checked out several apartments in Simi Valley, and at the last minute decided to drive by the mobile home park. She was glad she did.

The Clara Anna Woods Mobile Home Park consisted of actual homes, not trailers, each unit a tiny yellow house with white trim and tandem parking for up to three cars. The little village—and that was what she considered it—was flat and open and had fresh, clean air and she had a wonderful view of the mountains from her back porch. Most important, for the first time in her life, she had privacy. It surprised her how badly she wanted it.

It was coming up on nine when the cruiser pulled up against the curb. Ellie wished she could have driven home herself, but regulations dictated that an officer involved in a shooting wasn’t allowed to get behind the wheel. Her car, she’d been told, would probably be delivered to her tomorrow, Sunday at the latest.

It didn’t really matter. She was on a mandatory five-day paid leave.

Cody’s black Ford F-150 truck wasn’t there—which surprised her. Maybe it was just as well. This was the first moment she had when she didn’t have to talk, to answer questions. Now she had the opportunity to just be, and see what happened.

The last of the sunlight was still visible over the mountains when the patrol car pulled away. A gold and purplish color washed across the lemon tree planted in her front yard and the crushed white stones she had instead of a lawn. Ellie, dressed in the gray hoodie, sweats, and flip-flops brought from her locker to the hospital, forced herself to take in the beauty around her—the sunset and mountains. All it did, though, was make her feel small and insignificant.

She knew why. The reason she was standing here right now and breathing this air and enjoying this view and listening to Claire Leddy’s yellow Lab, Greta, barking three doors down was simply because today she had gotten lucky. That was it, no other reason. Sparing her life wasn’t a part of some divine grand plan. Things in life didn’t happen for a reason or because you were good or bad or indifferent or all of the above. It all came down to luck, and didn’t you know that was out of your control, and trying to sit with that knowledge and accept it, well, that was a hard thing to do when you believed you did, in fact, control every single aspect of your life.