Page 2

“You have thirty seconds to get off my bus and stand on those yellow footprints!”

Felicity stood.

Softly, under her breath, she said it once more, “Felicity Graham.”

Then she stepped off the bus and left the girl she used to be behind.

*

Five years later …

The squad room buzzed with low conversation and smelled of burnt coffee.

Six new uniforms lined the wall.

She stood at the end of the line.

Across the room, law enforcement personnel moved in and out of glass offices. No one paid much attention to the rookies.

Until the door to an office opened.

A stocky sergeant stepped out, folding clipboard in hand. His gaze swept over them. “Alright, rookies,” he said. “Let’s see what the academy sent us.”

He glanced down at the list. “Adams.”

“Here.”

“Bennett.”

“Here.”

One by one the names echoed across the room.

Then—

“Graham.”

Felicity snapped to attention. “Here.”

The word came easily. The name fit now.

The sergeant made a mark and closed the clipboard with a sharp click. “Welcome to the Denver Police Department.”

*

Twelve years later …

As senior detective, Felicity Graham now occupied one of the glass fishbowls the Denver PD called offices. The burnt coffee smell of the squad room no longer reached her. Her mini coffee pod machine had replaced it.

A fresh line of rookies stood waiting outside the sergeant’s office, stiff in their new uniforms.

She’d done her time. Walked the streets. Paid her dues.

Even trained a few recruits herself.

Now she was lead detective in Major Crimes.

Fair but tough, they called her. Worked hard. Played hard.