She thought about tapping her way across this lot at a snail’s pace. “Maybe one day.”

“Right. I can’t believe there’re so many people here this early.”

Out of her car, cane in hand, Jordan waited for Avery to come around and offer her elbow. Like it or not, the new routine burrowed deeper into her life.

The whoosh of revolving doors announced their approach to the front entrance. Avery led her to the single side door reserved for anyone not able to use the revolving door.

Inside, the familiar sounds of chatter, footsteps, and ringing telephones echoed in the main lobby.

“Where do we go now?” Avery asked.

“We stop at information and get a badge for you.”

“What about you?”

Jordan removed her police badge from her pocket and slung it around her neck. “They still haven’t taken it, yet.”

At the information desk, Jordan showed her badge and explained that Avery would need to escort her to the autopsy suites. Avery produced a driver’s license, but the receptionist did not sound happy about this exception.

“I’m not sure that’ll be enough,” the receptionist said.

Jordan recognized the woman’s voice. It was Marge, a sixtysomething woman with graying hair and a stern face. She had always been a stickler for rules.

“I’m a detective,” Jordan said. “She’s my sister. Her identification will confirm that.”

“But she’s a civilian,” Marge countered.

Steady, determined footsteps moved toward them. Most cops exhibited a commanding air because the ability to take charge could deescalate tense situations or neutralize potential threats. Some cops, like Spencer, dominated the space around them.

“Sounds like the cavalry has arrived,” Jordan said.

“I can take it from here, Avery,” Spencer said.

“Agent Spencer,” Marge said. “I wasn’t sure how to handle this one.”

“It’s an unusual circumstance,” he said.

Would Marge have questioned Jordan being here a month ago? The thought put her on defense. “I’m still me, and my badge is still good.”

“I didn’t realize you were still active duty,” Marge said.

“I have my badge,” Jordan pressed.

“But you are . . . blind,” Marge said in a lower tone.

“Low vision but still on the team,” Jordan said through clenched teeth.

“Marge was trying to figure out how I fit into the big scheme of things.” Avery’s tone was light.

Her sister’s words carried a bigger message: Lighten up. If Jordan was forever pissed and defensive, she was going to have a long row to hoe.

“She’s right. Thanks for the help, Marge,” Jordan said.

“I’m the one that’s sorry, Detective Poe,” Marge said. “No one likes seeing a cop’s career end.”

Jordan straightened, her fingers tightening around her cane. “It’s not over yet.”

“Maybe Avery will get her guest badge another day,” Spencer said.

Like her sister, Spencer was reminding her to be cool.