‘Sure, that was most of it. But also because I had the temerity to rely on instinct sometimes. I mean, I know police work. I know it. I know when something doesn’t feel right, even if I don’t have the proof; even if the evidence says it’s right. But, after a while, I stopped saying stuff like that at the station. I learned that lesson – probably too late, actually.’ Jo came to a halt, not liking the anger rising in her voice. ‘But you know something? Since Rodney King, since the riots, the old guard – the old way of thinking and doing things – it’s starting to get dismantled, and things are slowly starting to change. I don’t want to be some token appointment, have never wanted a job just because some arbitrary quota system says I should have it. But it’s 1993, I’ve eaten a whole hill of shit in the LASD for more than eighteen years because I’m a woman, and probably set my career back another five just by having the sheer impudence to get pregnant, so you know what?’

Barnes shook her head.

‘When I got a call from the LAPD last week and they started telling me they’re pushing for better race relations, as well as more senior female officers, and that they’d admired my work in the Sheriff’s Department, you bet I sat there and let them make their pitch. I listened to them offer me a job in Robbery-Homicide – a lieutenant in RHD, no less – and I didn’t spend one single second interrupting them, even though I knew the whole thing was purely driven by politics. You know why I kept so quiet?’

‘Why?’

‘Because I would deserve every dollar I got.’

‘You sound like you might take it.’

Jo shrugged. ‘I might, or I might not.’

Dr Barnes worked in the Employee Support Services Unit – or what LASD staff more commonly referred to as ‘Psych Services’ – not out on the front lines, so this news was going nowhere: it was all protected by doctor–patient privilege.

It was exactly why Jo kept coming.

Originally, she’d agreed to the counselling because it gave her a chance to vent to someone who knew how the LASD worked, and it got her out of the office a couple of times a month. But now it was more than that: it was an ongoing conversation about life, about her choices, about acceptance and loss.

‘How long have the LAPD given you to decide?’ Dr Barnes asked.

‘A couple of days. I told them I needed time to think about it.’

Jo reached forward and picked up her glass of water.

‘And have you been thinking about it?’

‘Pretty much constantly.’

Barnes was studying Jo, a slant to her face as if she knew something else was coming. ‘Detective Kader?’

‘I think I’ve been coming long enough for you to call me Jo.’