DISCLAIMER: Women's Murder Club and its characters are the property of James Patterson, 20th Century Fox Television and ABC. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Lyn for the quick beta!
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
It's My Job
"You're not going to shoot me." An ugly grin distorted his features. "You would never risk her."
The seconds ticked by as Lindsay evaluated the situation, the knife Kiss-Me-Not was pressing against Cindy's neck, already drawing a crimson line. Her eyes wide in utter terror.
"You're right. I'd never risk her," she said, and pulled the trigger.
Cindy shrieked as blood and other matter splattered against the side of her face, the chokehold finally gone.
Still, it was a relief to hear her voice. Lindsay took a moment to reassure herself that the killer was really dead, then rushed to her friend's side and pulled her into her arms. Cindy held on with a strength that was surprising after what she'd just been through, but Lindsay didn't mind a bit. "It's all right. You're safe. He can't hurt you anymore." She kept up with the phrases until Cindy wasn't shaking so hard anymore, never loosening the embrace, not even when Cindy rested her head against her shoulder, and started to cry.
At that moment, Lindsay fell silent, vowing that she wouldn't let go. Not ever again.
Lindsay hadn't known that it wasn't her call after all, but she realized it pretty soon when Jamie Galvan, 'cute' Jamie, came to visit Cindy in the hospital. She saw the two of them smiling at each other, saw their blushes, and she knew. What had she been thinking anyway?
When Jamie gave her that serious expression, saying "I've got so much to thank you for", Lindsay knew it was time for her to leave. Not just to give them their privacy, but because she couldn't stand to be there any longer; not with all those foolish hopes she had been harboring over the past few weeks.
"It's my job," Lindsay said, trying a smile and knowing she was failing miserably.
"Linds, I'm going to call you," Cindy called after her, and Lindsay made the mistake of turning around to look at her.
It was even worse. Lindsay could tell from the look on her face that she *knew*.
"Sorry, I'm not going to be home tonight. I'll see you."
//Maybe not too soon, though, because I can't believe how much I've made a fool of myself - again. And I don't want your pity.//
She had all but fled from the hospital, sitting in her car, waiting for the urge to cry to pass - taking a look at the facts of her life. Kiss Me Not was gone. He could never be an explanation or an excuse... for anything, any longer. Job done.
It was back to being all alone for her now, but Lindsay could handle pain. She'd proven it.
Before she started the engine, her fingers lightly curled around the handle of her weapon, the thought briefly flashing in her mind, and then vanishing.
She had to go home; Martha would be waiting for her.
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