There was a coating of dust on his monitors. He wiped them clean and took a breath. It was always hard coming back. To shift gears from life and death and monotony of a war zone to pushing papers and dealing with the whims of an aggressively creative architect or wading into the murkiness of township ordinances. Always hard. Always surreal.

But this was the first time he’d sat down at his desk in his office with only one leg. The scars were on the outside this time.

His thoughts drifted to Gloria. To the confrontation last night. Her scars were on the outside now, too, in the form of public embarrassment.

His hackles rose again, recalling Glenn’s mother spewing her abuse in Gloria’s face. He closed a fist around the arm of his chair. That family had their chance to tear her down for ten years. Enough was enough.

Mind made up, Aldo clicked on the icon for the network and got back to work.

* * *

Aldo glanced up from his monitor when a whistling uniformed deputy strolled into the office.

“Ya ready for lunch?” Ty called, his thumbs tucked into his belt.

“Bring me back a pastrami,” Jamilah called from her desk.

Aldo shot her the pistol fingers on the way out. Together, he and Ty tromped down the stairs, and Aldo was suddenly grateful his injury hadn’t been worse. He could still manage stairs, still access his office, his home.

He had a lot to be grateful for these days.

“So, what’s with the lunch date?” Ty asked, slipping his sunglasses on as they stepped outside into the summer heat. The man might talk slow and be affable as hell, but there was still a cop brain under the nice.

“Mrs. Diller,” Aldo said.

“Had a feelin’.”

“Do I need to worry about her?” Aldo asked as they turned down the block, heading toward the sub shop.

“I can tell you that I may have perused our records this morning. I wasn’t in law enforcement when Glenn Diller, Sr. was alive and beating the hell out of her. According to records, she never put up much of a fuss then, and there were a lot of calls from neighbors.”

“Didn’t seem to have any qualms about standing up for herself last night,” Aldo observed.

They stepped into the air-conditioned deli and got in line. Five minutes later, sandwiches in hand, they crossed the street to the edge of the park. Settling on a bench in the shade, they unwrapped their lunches and ate in silence for a minute.

“Sure you’re not just upset that she yelled at your girlfriend?” Ty asked.

“She is my girlfriend, since you’re fishing for info,” Aldo told him. “And I’m not going to say I wasn’t upset about it.”