Brown, Sandra-Friction

“That building is crawling with officers of every kind, all day, every day.”
“Well, the only officer immediately on hand was Chet, and he was dead.”
“What did you say to the shooter?”
Crawford had spent the last several hours answering Neal’s questions about that encounter. He
resented getting the third degree about it now from his father-in-law. On the other hand, he hoped to
avoid creating a rift with Joe and recognized the value of treading lightly.
“I’ll be happy to recount it for you later, Joe, but right now I’m bushed. Thank you for arranging
my visit with Georgia. I needed to see her. I also wanted to check on Grace. Now that I know they’re
tucked in and all right, I’m going home to my own bed.”
When he pushed back his chair and stood up, so did Joe. He said, “It’s time we took the gloves
off.”
Crawford raised an eyebrow.
“You know what I’m talking about,” Joe said.
“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. But you’ve had years to get things off your chest, and you
chose tonight? Now? Lousy timing, Joe. Can’t your grievances keep for at least one more day?”
“No, because I don’t want to be blamed later for not giving you fair warning.”
“Of?”
The older man propped his hands on his hips in the stance of a victor. “You played my ace for me
today. You scored a goal for the opposing team.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ve been trying to come up
with a way to beat you on this thing, and damned if you didn’t do it for me.”
“This thing being the custody dispute?”
“What dispute?” he sneered. “There won’t be a dispute after your grandstanding today.”
“I wasn’t grandstanding. I was trying to prevent—”
“What you did was take a loaded weapon off a fallen officer and chase after a crazy man. Those
courthouse employees that you encountered on your way up to the roof? They interviewed two of them
on TV. Neither saw the man in white, but both said you scared the bejesus out of them.”
Crawford turned toward the door. “Tell Grace I’ll check on her in the morning.”
“Hear me out.”
Crawford came back around.
“I didn’t like you from the minute Beth brought you to meet us.”
“That’s not exactly a news flash.”
“I disliked you on sight.”
“On sight? Why? You didn’t even know me, so what did you have against me? That I was younger
and stronger than you? Mr. Top Gun suddenly had competition for Beth’s affection?”
“I saw right off that you weren’t a man I would want to command.”
“No,” Crawford said. “What you saw right off was that I was a man you couldn’t command.
That’s why you formed an instant dislike.”
“Beth saw dashing and daring. I saw reckless. And I was right. Your recklessness got her killed.”
Crawford had said as much to himself during booze-fueled self-analyses. More recently, he’d
confessed his corrosive guilt to the therapist. But it was devastating to hear the words from his fatherin-law’s
mouth and to know with certainty that, although he and Grace hadn’t openly condemned him,
they held him responsible for the loss of their only child.
Joe aimed his index finger at him. “Your derring-do robbed me of my daughter, but it’s going to