17. The Final Tango - 4.

It took us all day to make the plan, June and I sat and went through it bit by bit.

“We have to accept that we probably won't get a hit on the first night,” I said.

“Yeah, maybe not even in the first week.”

“I'm convinced that although the attacks took place in different areas, the distance from the centre was pretty consistent, it has to be the key. If we get Tom to use the same route to and from the centre over a relatively long period, we should lure the suspect out. We have to maintain a covert watch throughout the whole operation.”

“That's the problem. Maintaining a sustainable operation with our small department. The work doesn't keep coming in, and we are short handed at present.”

“With Grimble gone, surely we could recruit some more?”

“We? Does that mean what I think it means?” June asked.

“Maybe. If you'll have me, that is?”

“When you told me you'd get rid of Grimble, I didn't believe you. You want a job, just put it on paper, girl, just put it on paper!”

“Can we get some uniforms to work overtime?”

“I'm not sure the budget would stand for it.”

“If we have some more attacks, the overtime will go through the roof. Ask the Captain, surely he'd approve it?”

“Okay. How many?”

We looked at the map again, trying to work out all the little details and contingencies.

**************************

Grace stood back to take a good look at her handiwork.

Tom looked remarkable. Although an average sized man, he made a statuesque girl. I was reminded of Rue Paul, as there was another big broad.

The Captain had made a passable effort at making it look like a short list selection, so there was little possibility of the poor officer being castigated for his current predicament.

Grace had sensibly gone for a respectable look, and not the cheap hooker look that appears to be so popular with many transvestites.

It had taken them the best part of the afternoon to get him ready. June expressed a concern that she hoped the time factor would improve should the operation stretch on for more than a few days.

“We can't afford having him take four hours just getting ready!” she said.

Grace laughed.

“The first one is the hard one. Now he's had a body shave and knows how to dress properly, we only need to help with the makeup and we should have it down to an hour tomorrow, and even less after that,” Grace said.

Tom was wearing a dark roll-neck sweater, a dark knee length skirt that was quite tight, with a single slit up the back to facilitate walking. Pantyhose and high-heeled shoes finished the clothing, and the whole lot was topped of with a long blonde wig.

“How do you feel, Tom?” I asked, as I could see he seemed transfixed on his reflection in the mirror.

“I can't believe that that's me!”

“How do you feel about what you see?”

He grinned.

“A strange mix, I guess. Part of me is quite excited, another part is sort of ashamed, and some of me feels guilty that I feel excited. The fact that it is all legitimate and I'm here to do a job helps, but I know that, deep down, I feel I belong for the first time.”

“I can relate to that!” I said, giving him a reassuring smile.

He turned his head, enjoying feeling the swish of the long hair. The clip on hoops on his ears shimmered in the bright lights. He looked at his long varnished false nails, and he had an enormous smile on his face.

He also looked embarrassed. I guessed why.

“Why don't you go to the bathroom? You don't know when you'll get another chance,” I suggested.

Tom grinned sheepishly and with some relief, and hurried out. I think I was the only one to notice the telltale bulge in the front of his skirt.

Nothing happened the first night, or the next three.

Tom arrived in a rental car (in case our suspect had access to vehicle and driver records), parked it some way from the centre and walked the three blocks.

To keep in cover, he stayed through the group session, sharing with the others his fictitious life history (not as fictitious as everyone in the station would understand), leaving three hours later, walking back to his car. We had three officers watching. One was keeping watch of the car, one half way and one over the road from the centre. Two teams of two were on the ground, deployed out of sight but seconds away from poor old Tom.

No one was seen, no movement suspected and so I started to feel we might be on the wrong track. I then started to worry that a certain disgraced Lieutenant might fit the frame of our suspect.

On the fifth night, we were a little more relaxed and slightly complacent. Tom was able to get himself ready in twenty minutes, including doing all his own makeup. I could see he was enjoying this experience, but knew that dealing with the issues after it was over may be quite costly.

I was in the O.P. at the midway point with Grant. There was a small Seven-Eleven that had allowed us to use the office above the store. There was a fire escape from the room straight into the alley below, so we could be there almost instantly. June came in to see how things were going.

The radio burst into life.

“Tango Charlie parked, on foot now, over.”

I watched as Tom walked slowly along the sidewalk towards the centre. He didn't look up at our window. He looked good, and his walk was perfect. He looked like a tall and attractive woman.

“Got him, all clear, no one else in sight,” said Grant.

“Passing mid point, still clear.”

“In sight from centre. All clear.”

He entered the centre and we all relaxed. The O.P. at the centre kept alert in case anyone made any obvious move near their position.

I glanced out the window as a dark blue van drove slowly by. It slowed near the centre and then turned right down a side street. A little alarm bell sounded deep in my subconscious.

“Did anyone get the licence plate on that blue Ford Van?” I asked.

No one had.

I circulated the details I had, so we all sat, watched and waited.

It took an hour, but the van returned, taking exactly the same route. It slowed at the same spot and turned right down the same side street. I took the licence plate this time. Grant called it in. It was a Maryland plate, but no records existed.

June looked at me, raising her eyebrows.

“We're in business!” she said.

“It could be an armed robber, casing the Seven-Eleven for a robbery!” I suggested.

“On the other hand, it might not.”

Everyone was suddenly alert and eager for something to happen.

We waited. The van didn't reappear.

“Our man is now on foot!” Grant said.

“How come?”

“The van will be parked up down an alley, ready for a quick escape. He's probably in another alley, ready to pounce. He will want the darkest and most effective point to attack, so I reckon it will be the next alley down. It's a good two blocks from the centre, and a similar distance from the parked car. Nice and dark, and there's that small scrub area to the left.”

We craned our necks to see to where he referred. I agreed, as it was the most effective place to conduct an attack.

“How do we play this?” Grant asked. I looked at June.

“We bide our time. Too early and we lose him.”

“Too late and young Tom gets stabbed.” Grant said.

“He's wearing a vest and he's prepared.”

“Yeah, right!”

“You have a problem with this?”

“No Ma'am.”

“Okay, get ready, he'll be leaving in a few minutes.”

I eased the window onto the escape open slightly, but June frowned.

“The radio, he'll hear it. Shut that!”

I did so, feeling slightly foolish.

“Tango Charlie is leaving the centre, all clear at this time, over.”

“Got him, still clear,” said Grant.

“Passing mid point now. Still clear.”

June looked at me and nodded. I took out my Glock and opened the window. Grant placed an earpiece into the radio and followed us out onto the escape.

Seconds later we were on the street. I saw Tom's back view as he went round the corner. I started to run, and I could hear the others behind me.

“Now! He's been grabbed!” Grant relayed, and we pounded round the corner to see a dark figure dragging a struggling Tom into the scrub.

Suddenly, lights were illuminated from all over the area. The dark figure looked up, the two eyes glinting evilly through the holes in the mask.

“POLICE, STAND STILL!” came over the PA.

The figure stopped trying to restrain the struggling decoy, and turned to run. Tom flung himself at the person and brought him down with an effective tackle.

There was a brief struggle and I saw Tom punch the prone figure just once.

It was over.

I was up to the suspect, with Tom clinging on as tight as he could. His wig was on the ground and he'd a latter in his panty hose.

He pulled the ski mask off.

We were all surprised to see a woman in her thirties.

Her long hair spilled out and she looked up at us with an expression of uncontrollable fury. She was handcuffed and searched. A knife was found in her pocket, similar to the one left at the scene where Chrissie was attacked.

June told Tom to read the woman her rights. We watched as she was led away, she had not said anything.

A feeling of anticlimax settled on me. I put my gun away, grateful that I hadn't had to use it. Grant found the van round the corner, parked in such a way as to afford her an opportunity to make good an escape. Recovery was arranged for forensics.

June looked at me and grinned.

“Good plan, Sherri.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

I picked up Tom's wig. I wondered where that poor kid would end up now.

“I'll go tell Grace that we got her.”

“Okay, I'll see you back at the station,” said June.

The woman turned out to be the ex-wife of a transsexual who'd been through transition and SRS a couple of years ago. He'd changed from Steve to Stephanie, and had originally stayed in the family unit. However, Stephanie decided she was heterosexual, found a man and left her ex-wife, Rebecca.

Rebecca had had a complete breakdown, confined to a hospital for six to eight months. Only the thirst for revenge kept her going, and she managed to fool the psychiatrists into believing she was on the road to recovery, so gaining her release. She'd tried counselling, but had dropped out after two sessions.

She refused to speak at all, returning into her shell and despite all the forensic evidence; she was never going to be sane enough to stand trial for murder. There was a swathe of public opinion that seemed to understand why she did it, even approval in certain ignorant minds, as once again the transgendered were portrayed as non-people.

She would be locked up for a long time, but somehow justice wasn't really done.

I was relaxing with Peejay later when my cell phone rang.

It was Lieutenant John Cowie from Oregon.

“Hi Sherri, how ya doin?”

“Good, we got the person.”

“Yeah? That's great. I'd expect nothing else from you. It's about Jellyman.”

“What about him?”

“He's been sighted in Washington DC.”

“When?”

“I think it was three days ago. I'm not sure of the details, but the FBI seem to have good reason to believe he's in your area, girl!”

“Shit! This is all I need. What should I do?”

“I have a number for you. It's an FBI agent over in D.C. who's been given the task of liaising with you and arranging someone to look after you.”

“I can look after myself, John, you know that?”

“This man is different. Jellyman's special ops and a real bad man, Sherri. You're out of his league.”

“Okay, any pointers?”

“Me? Shit Sherri, I'd be the one to ask you. I don't know. Give the number a call and see what they can offer.”

He rang off and I made the call. An hour, later the doorbell rang.

I cautiously looked before I opened the door. Neither of the people on the doorstep were Jellyman, but they also weren't what I expected.

I opened the door.

“Sherri Brewster?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I'm Special Agent Jane Harrison, and this is Sergeant Russ Murden. He's a US Marine on attachment to a special counter insurgency unit at the Pentagon. May we come in?”

I'd been staring at the Marine, trying to work out what made him so special. He was not that much taller than I was, he wasn't built like Arnold Swartzenegger, and his pleasant face and nice smile didn't strike me as capable of being a special forces kinda guy. With his jeans and tee shirt, he just looked like the ordinary Mr Next-door type to me.

I looked back at the female agent in the trouser suit. She was about thirty and had a no-nonsense air about her. Smartly dressed, she was the epitome of the Federal agent.

“Sure, come on in. I'm sorry, but Sergeant Murden is not what I expected.”

The man grinned, taking no offence at all.

“That's the whole point. I'm trained to blend in, so no one gives me a second glance. I can see that would be a problem for someone like you, though.”

I frowned, misunderstanding him and taking slight offence that he thought me incapable of blending in.

“You're too pretty to blend in anywhere, all the guys would notice you!” he said, pre-empting a strike by me.

I blushed and felt silly.

“Oh.”

Peejay came out of the living room. The two men looked at each other, and I felt the testosterone in the air start to heat up.

I introduced them and Peejay grinned, holding out his hand.

“I'm sure glad someone is gonna look after my girl!” he said.

“That's why we are here,” Jane explained.

Russ turned to me.

“My brief is to keep you safe, but to try to lure him into trying something. The only lead we have is that he wants to take you out, so we're gonna have to use you as bait.”

“Wait a minute…!”

“Peejay, he's right. Just like we had to entrap the killer tonight, this is the same. He can remain hidden forever, so unless we can take him out, we may never get any peace.”

Russ smiled and nodded. I felt he was relieved at my attitude.

“Okay, how do we do this?” I asked.

It was Jane who answered.

“I've spent the last few weeks studying the man. There is no doubt that Jellyman is a control freak. He has an over stretched idea of his own brilliance both as a strategist and in the execution of his own operations. His major flaws are his lack of trust in others, his blindness to the fact he could ever be wrong and the way he underestimates others. The anger he feels towards you for fooling him and trapping him in a very simple way is quite disproportionate. He is a complete psychopath, without scruples, morals or any form of conscience. He is a real danger to society, as he won't worry about killing a hundred if his target is amongst them.”

“You mean he'll try to blow me up with a bomb?”

“No, I think he'll want to be up close, so he can watch you die. In my research, I believe he takes things very personally and may well get off on acts of sadistic violence.”

“Whoopdeedoo! Lucky me. Are you serious?” I asked.

“Absolutely. The psychiatric reports from the army and Department of Corrections concur, this man is very dangerous!”

“So what do we do?” I asked, feeling afraid.

“Outwardly, nothing. He needs to feel in control, so we'll allow him to do just that. All the while, we'll be watching and waiting. We'll let him become complacent and overconfident, and he'll make a mistake.”

“You hope!”

“He will, they always do.”

“Yeah, right! How many of these have you done?”

Jane looked slightly nervous.

“Including this one?”

“If you like.”

“Just one. But the Bureau has handled many.”

“Like that is meant to make me feel better.”

Russ chuckled. A deep rich sound that seemed to dispel the tension.

“Hey Sherri, cool down. I've done about ten of these jobs. It's what I do best, and Jane is right, they always make mistakes, these psychopaths don't give the good guys any credit for being as smart as he is.”

“Are my family in danger?” I asked, thinking of Jellyman using them as bait to lure me down there.

“That's already been thought of. The local FBI have made contact and have someone on the case,” Jane said.

“Somehow, I don't feel better.”

Jane smiled.

“I understand, it is a nervous time, but we know more about him that he could possibly imagine. He has a girlfriend, an Elizabeth Herbert, whom he met when posted in Washington a few years before he was dishonourably discharged. We've had a tap on her phone and that's how we know he's in the area. We believe he's staying with her.”

“Can't you just trap him there?”

“We've had her under surveillance, but nothing as yet. No men have been near the place.”

I suddenly had a thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Just that. She's only had some girlfriends round, and Jellyman's not been anywhere near the place.”

I laughed and everyone was looking at me.

“Don't you see it? My God, how fucking ironic! He's dressed as a woman!”

There was a moment of heavy pause and my words sunk home.

“May I use your phone?” Jane asked.

“Sure, go ahead!”

Jane spent some time on the phone. As a result another agent appeared some time later with some surveillance photographs of some of the women that visited with Elizabeth.

She'd had four visitors over the last three days. Three of them were of no interest, but the fourth was very interesting.

The photos showed a tall woman with long auburn hair under a scarf. She was dressed in a skirt and jacket, and smart but low-heeled shoes. She had quite shapely legs, but hid her face behind large dark glasses.

“That's a man and I'd put money on it being Jellyman. Where did he go from here?”

“They didn't follow her, him, shit, whatever!” the new agent, Brad, said.

“No vehicle, or anything?”

“I don't think so. Let me check.”

He left the room to make another phone call. Peejay groaned and shook his head. I went over to him and held his hand.

“Hey, Sherri, why don't you do the same?” he said.

“What?”

“Why don't you pretend to be a man?”

Russ laughed.

“Like who'd ever believe she could ever be a male. Come on, man, get real, there are some butch girls, but your girlfriend ain't one of them!”

I smiled, as this was getting so surreal.

Brad returned.

“We're in luck, the tall woman got a cab, it was from City-Cabs.”

“Okay, do we know where to?” I asked.

“They're following it up right now.”

This was so frustrating. I wanted to get out there and help. I said so.

“It's best we wait. You don't want to expose yourself more than you need.” Jane said.

“This is bullshit. We need to get some food in, I'm going shopping, anyone coming with me?”

“I will,” said Peejay.

“I will too,” said Russ.

“Put your vest on!” Jane advised.

“Yes, ma'am,” I said and went up to my room. I took off my sweater and pulled on my lightweight armour, replacing the sweater over the top again. It would be fine for a handgun but not for any high velocity round.

I put the Glock into the waistband of my jeans, and a .38 snub into an ankle holster.

We left the house and drove to the mall about five blocks away. Peejay pushed the cart, leaving Russ and me with our hands free. We ranged up and down the aisles in the supermarket and I selected enough to feed four for several days. I had almost forgotten about Jellyman when he made his first mistake.

Women just don't scratch themselves quite like that.

I had allowed my gaze to pass over this particular woman at least twice without registering anything. She looked tall, but not startlingly so, but as her hair was fair and going grey, I hadn't connected her to the photographs.

I saw her hands first, as she scratched her left armpit. The nails were obviously false, as they were long and too perfect to be real. The hands themselves were too big, and had she not scratched quite so enthusiastically, I'd have never noticed.

I placed a couple of pizzas into the cart.

“Damn! Forgot the ketchup,” I said, and trotted back to the previous aisle, muttering to Russ as I passed him, “Three o'clock, in pale blue with the long fair hair!”

My intention to move was to get away from Peejay so he wouldn't be in danger, but the poor fool started following me. I had, however, drawn attention away from Russ, who, I noticed, was already speaking into his hidden microphone inside his jacket.

I was unsure on the contingency plans, but relied upon my own instincts. I knew enough that when the chips were down, I could only rely on what I knew. Help may be on the way, but until they were here, it was Russ and I against him. Peejay was stuck in the middle, and I wanted to get him as far away as I could.

“Peejay, honey, could you go collect some ice cream?” I said.

“Huh?”

“Ice cream, over there, in the freezer cabinets, by the exit!” I said, pointing and raising my eyebrows. He frowned, suddenly and thankfully the penny dropped. Our freezer was busted, so he knew we'd never buy ice cream. To give him his due he was good.

“Sure!” he said, turning and casually walking away from me.

I'd managed to get a good twenty feet from the tall woman I believed to be Jellyman. I began to start doubting my own senses. This would look so embarrassing if it turned out to be some poor TS/TV out on a little shopping jaunt!

Events continued to prove me right.

I watched as Russ, no longer in our target's line of sight, dropped to the floor, drawing a handgun. This sight caused a mother of two little boys to scream.

Jellyman, as it now turned out to be him, turned at looked at the woman, but was unable to work out why she was screaming. I drew my Glock and dropped to the floor, ducking round so a large cooler display was between him and me.

An elderly couple were staring at me and my gun with shocked expressions. I flashed my badge.

“Just leave your shopping and make for the exit, folks,” I said. They nodded, turned and walked off.

I risked a peep round the base of the unit and saw that Jellyman had taken a small submachine gun out of his shoulder bag, which he had now discarded.

Fortunately, the members of the public were all running away from Russ and now the sight of a striking woman with a machine gun.

He caught sight of me. With an expression of frustrated rage, he pointed the gun and fired a short burst in my direction. The bullets impacted into the unit as I rolled out of sight and scurried along on my belly to the next aisle along. This I could deal with. I had been fired at before, and in a strange way, I was relieved that soon it would all be over; one way or the other.

“Come on detective Brewster, show yourself!” Jellyman screamed. He was losing it, I thought. Any scrap of sanity was slowly slipping away, so he was more dangerous than ever.

I didn't reply, as that would give him an idea where I was. I heard two hand gun shots, assuming that Russ had taken an opportunity to open fire.

There was another burst of automatic fire, and I just kept crawling to the next aisle.

“Hey, lady, put the gun down!” I heard being shouted.

The burst of automatic fire was his answer, and I heard a man scream. I looked round the display to see a security guard clutching his thigh as his blood started to seep through his blue pants. His pistol lay on the ground. I watched, helpless, as Jellyman walked over to the man and calmly shot him in the head. He then picked up the pistol and looked round.

“I'm coming for you, little miss cop, you and me have a date with destiny!” He'd lost his jacket and I could see he was wearing heavy duty Kevlar.

Two more handgun shots rang out, followed by more automatic fire. I was now in the kids' toy section. I could hear the wail of the sirens as the cavalry was approaching. But they weren't here yet, and I still had to deal with a madman with a gun and a grudge.

I heard him reload the machine gun. I could tell he was closer, but not how close. The next sound I will remember for a long time. It was a small metallic sound, but as I stared at the hand grenade as it rolled across the shiny polished black and white tiled floor towards me, I thought I was going to die.

Without thinking, I picked it up and threw it back the way it had come, hugging the ground as it went off.

“Naughty, naughty, didn't you like my nice present for you, little miss cop? I have plenty more!”

I was staring at a display of novelty lighters. One was a hand grenade replica, and I got an idea. I rolled behind the counter, grabbed three of the lighters from the display and crawled off to the corner. Jellyman was on the ground too, not wanting to give Russ a clear shot.

I could hear the police and FBI teams as they entered the supermarket from the various entrances. They knew that we were here but not where or what Jellyman looked like. I looked up and saw the CCTV camera and smiled. Maybe they did, as they'd be watching this as it unfurled infront of them. I dug out my mobile and called Peejay.

“What?” He asked.

“Are you safe?”

“Yes.”

“Listen, get to the FBI and get them to the CCTV monitor.”

“They're already there, Jane's with them.”

“Good, go next to them and get them to talk me to within a short distance. I have a plan.”

Within moments Jane came on the line.

“Okay, Russ is in cold meats, Jellyman is in detergents, where are you?”

“Toys and gifts.”

“Okay, we have you. We're getting marksmen up to the aisles behind him.”

There was a burst of automatic fire and another explosion.

“Okay, maybe we're not. He has grenades!”

“Tell me something I don't know. Look, tell me when the marksmen are in a position to get a vision of him when he moves quickly. I have some dummy grenades, when I throw them he'll want to move very quickly.”

I waited for what seemed an age.

“Where are you, goldilocks? Daddy bear has a present for you?” The man was three cents short of a dime.

“Now, he's two aisles away, on the same level with you!” said Jane.

I threw the first grenade, without its pin, I hasten to add. It sailed into Jellyman's aisle, landing with a hard crack on the floor.

Three or four shots came almost immediately and Jane said, “They got him, he's down!”

I sat there, unwilling to move, as I heard the squeaky sound of rubber soled boots on the floor and the SWAT members all advanced towards the stricken lunatic.

“Put it down! FBI!”

“Drop it! Holy shit! Grenade!”

There was another explosion and it all went quiet.

I risked a look.

Smoke and debris from the ceiling swirled in the air. Some black clad SWAT officers were picking themselves up off the floor.

“Anyone hurt?” asked one.

They all checked in.

“Detective Brewster?” someone shouted.

I was still sitting on the floor, unwilling and almost unable to move.

“Here!” I shouted.

Russ came over to me. He squatted down in front of me.

“You okay?”

“I suppose.”

He grinned.

“You did well, that was a neat trick with the grenade.”

“Is he dead?”

“Yup, he's a heck of a mess.”

I let my head go back and rested on the cabinet.

“So, it's over?”

“It looks that way. What are you going to do now?”

“Get married before someone else tries to kill me!

***********************************************

I didn't want a big wedding, but my parents and the Connors conspired against me. It was funny, for although we planned it and arranged our lives around it, until that moment the preacher said, “I now pronounce you man and wife!” I don't think I actually believed we'd ever manage to get to the altar.

I had finished my degree course some time after Peejay graduated. He was now working in a law firm in Baltimore, so Allandale got a new detective. It was a much bigger department than I had been used to, but the new Lieutenant and I got on very well, as June Sanderson was a friend now, so it was almost like coming home. I still contemplated the FBI, but for the moment, this suited me fine.

It was a June wedding. The mayor and police chief offered us the old assembly building by the town hall for the reception, in gratitude for my assisting in the arrest of the TG Killer, but mainly for getting rid of a certain Lieutenant, although this was never mentioned.

Chrissie was through her surgery and looked a million dollars in her pale peach dress. She was my maid of honour, so with a garland of flowers in her hair, she stood grinning with pure joy the whole day. As for bridesmaids - I had two of Peejay's cousins, Bethany and Claire aged six and seven, as well as my good friend Bobbi, the dispatcher in the wheelchair from Roseburg PD. She'd never been a bridesmaid, and kept bursting into tears of pleasure throughout the service.

Dad gave me away, for which I was so pleased. His latest biopsy was clear, so the loaded gun of cancer was taken another few paces away from his head.

Matt was Peejay's best man, and as he was dating the maid of honour, it was really romantic. Chrissie looked fabulous. Her hair was shining, as were her eyes. Matt was so proud of her, and I noticed she was wearing a sweet little ring on her left ring finger.

She had got over her attack, passed her finals, completed her surgery and now was employed as legal adviser to the Transgendered Society in Maryland. There was nothing left of the old Christopher. She looked happy and fulfilled, and as she took the best man's arm as we filed out of the church, she almost collapsed with shock. For there, at the back of the church were her parents. Divorced now, they had come together to witness her declaration of who she now was. I had spent some time on the phone to them both, so I was doubly thrilled to have at least managed to get them here. Her father looked shocked at his new daughter's appearance. I hoped and prayed that some form of relationship could now be possible.

I cried, not because of the wedding, but because Chrissie was almost accepted for whom she wanted to be.

How many of our sisters and brothers are doomed to never be so accepted?

The reception was fun, but it went so fast I can't remember it all. I certainly tried to see everyone who was there, but I know I probably missed some. There were two hundred people in the hall, and I had to sit in embarrassed silence as those making the speeches gave constant references to my job.

My Dad cried as he spoke, as did I.

I had succeeded as a cop. I was blissfully fulfilled as a woman, now I wanted to be a mother. I looked at my husband and smiled. As I sat beside him and our parents, I felt a warm glow. Love really does make the world go round!

I'd come a long way since being that troubled kid. I wondered what was next.

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