own realities and the rest of the world. They were men who didn’t know what to do with themselves or the disasters they’d become. Men who didn’t know where to turn.
Men like Ryan Lukas.
“If you put me on some kind of bogus leave, that’s exactly what you’ll be doing!” He glared at her. “I want to work and I should be working. The team needs me. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“If that’s really the case, then you can return to active duty in record time. Until then, because of the tests I conducted during your routine assessment last week and the talks we’ve had so far, I feel the need for further evaluation of your situation. As soon as I’m comfortable with your progress, I’ll release you.”
“And Lena agrees with this bullsh—”
“Lieutenant McKinney and I have discussed the matter, yes.” Lena McKinney was Ryan Lukas’s boss and commander of the SWAT team. Maria didn’t envy her the job. “Lieutenant McKinney believes, as I do, that you need some time off. That’s why she moved up your yearly evaluation. She was concerned about you and wanted me to assess you before things got out of hand. Taking everything into consideration, Lieutenant Lukas, surely you can understand the conclusion—”
“I understand one thing,” he said icily. “I understand that you’re screwing with me…and I’m going to pay the price. One way or another.”
Maria looked out her window and tried to gather her thoughts. The office faced the Gulf of Mexico, and in the distance, the sparkling water glinted. Generally she didn’t argue with her patients, but Ryan Lukas wasn’t like most of her clients. She turned back to him.
“Lieutenant Lukas, anyone who went through what you have would need to talk about it. Anyone. If you don’t believe me, look at the problems you’ve experienced lately. Emotions escape any way they can, even if it means more trouble for us. Don’t you think you should deal with these feelings in a more productive fashion?”
“I am dealing with them.” His eyes locked on hers. “My way.”
She waited for him to elaborate but he wasn’t going to—it was his way of taking control. During his initial visit, he’d sat without saying a word for more than half the session. It was the first time she’d had to break a client’s silence. She’d never been outwaited before.
“Well, your way isn’t working. Ignoring your problem is not a good solution.” She paused a moment. “And don’t try to convince me you have no feelings about what happened. That’s impossible.”
At his sides, his hands clamped into fists. She wondered if he was conscious of the movement.
“I never said I had no feelings about what happened.” He stopped for a second, then seemed to gather himself. “I do. But I don’t intend to share them with you or anyone else.”
“Even if it means your job?”
“My wife’s…situation had nothing to do with my job.”
She noted the word he used; he couldn’t even say death. It was time to be blunt.
“That’s a lie, Lieutenant, and you know that as well as I. You’re one of the most important members of the SWAT team. You have to be sharp, on your toes. What happens at home impacts your ability to think and to make decisions. Everyone understands that. Surely you do, too.”
His eyes glittered, two black sapphires, dark and hard. “Do you perform marriage counseling?”
The unexpected question took her by surprise and she answered without thinking. “Of course. That is a primary focus of my practice.”
“Are you married?”
She saw the trap too late. There was nothing to do but answer him. “No,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’m divorced. But my personal situation isn’t pertinent—”
“And neither is mine. I can do my job, just like you can.”
“That’s not a fair comparison. I don’t shoot people for a living.”
He waited a moment to reply, but somehow it felt longer to Maria. When he finally did speak, his voice was deliberate, each word distinct. “And do you have a problem with what I do?”
“You’re a valued member of the team and your job is necessary. How I feel about that is not important. What matters is how you feel about it.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s not relevant.”
“It is to me.”
“And why is that?”
“I need your approval. You’ve already told Lena I can’t do my job right now. If you have some kind of hang-up with what I do—”
She interrupted him, something else she rarely did with patients, her exasperation getting the upper hand over her professionalism. “Lieutenant Lukas, I assure you my evaluation of your situation will not be influenced by your position on the team. I’m paid to look at you as an individual and that’s exactly what I do. What I think about your career choice simply isn’t germane to this.”
“Then let me do my job.”
“I can’t.” She made her expression flat, her voice unequivocal. “Not until we’ve talked more and I feel confident you’ve recovered from the stress of your wife’s death.” She pulled her calendar toward her and ran a pen down the edge of one side. “I have this same time open on Thursday next week. I’d like to meet with you then, but if that’s not convenient, you can check with my receptionist on the way out for a different time. One way or the other, I want to see you in here this coming week.” She put down her pen then picked up one of her appointment cards and held it out to him, her hand in the air a full ten seconds before he finally took the offering.
Rising to his feet, he clenched the card without looking at it. “You’re making a big mistake.”
Even though he was giving her a hard time, behind his rage, his gaze was so full of pain and grief a wave of sympathy hit her. He was hurting.
“I’m sorry you see it that way,” she said quietly. “But I believe if we work together, I can help you.” She stood and held out her hand. “I really can.”
He ignored her outstretched fingers. “And if I don’t want your help?”
She dropped her hand. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Lieutenant.”
He gave her a look that would have quailed another woman’s resolve. Maria simply stared back. A second later, he pivoted sharply and stalked out. As he reached the outer hallway, she heard the sound of paper ripping. The scraps of her card fluttered gently to the carpet and then he was gone.
MARIA EDGED her five-year-old Toyota into the traffic on Highway 98 and headed west. It was the first week of May, the beginning of tourist season in Destin, and the town was already packed. Families in minivans, college kids in Beetles, retired folks in Cadillacs—everyone was on the road and trying to get somewhere else. Up until the seventies, Destin had been a sleepy little fishing village; then its clear
