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predecessor, however. Edward Carson must have been killed too soon after taking office for Bishop to have arranged a photo op.
    The CoD’s pride in his connections was somewhat justified by his years getting bloodied on the streets of D.C., though Nona found pride a repellent trait.
    “Take a pew, Detective,” Bishop said with a sweeping gesture. “Congratulations. Your quick thinking averted a potential crisis and, quite possibly, loss of life.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    Bishop seated himself, shuffling some papers aside, bringing others under his gaze. “I’m putting you in for a commendation.”
    “That’s not necessary, sir.” When he glanced up sharply, she altered her tone. “But much appreciated, sir.”
    He nodded and dropped his gaze again to the documents in front of him. “And cut out the ‘sir.’” Glancing up briefly again, he added, “When you’re in this office.”
    He cleared his throat, then looked up and smiled. He was a rather handsome man, slim, with angular cheekbones, an aggressive nose, wavy silver hair, and brilliant blue eyes, which looked even better when viewed through a camera lens.
    “Today’s heroics only underscore a decision I made this morning,” he said. “As of next week, you’ll be the new coordinator of detectives.”
    “Sir? Uh, Chief Bishop, I’m not sure I understand.”
    The CoD spread his hands. “It’s a promotion, Nona. Two pay grades higher and, six months from now, if all goes well, you’ll achieve the rank of deputy chief of detectives.” His brow wrinkled. “I must say, you don’t look pleased.”
    “Chief Bishop, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t coordinator of detectives admin, a desk job?”
    “Right as rain.” Bishop’s smile broadened. “You’re being kicked upstairs, Nona. No more looking over your shoulder, waiting for the bullet you never hear. And at your age. I had to pull some strings because of that. Some of my colleagues thought you weren’t ready, but I maintained that you are. You don’t want to prove me wrong, do you?”
    “Of course not.” She sat forward, perched on the edge of her chair. “And I don’t want to seem ungrateful—”
    The CoD’s smiled slipped. “Then accept the promotion, and do it graciously.”
    Nona took a deep breath and let it out. “Look, Chief, I’m a street detective, that’s what I’ve been trained for, that’s what I love. It’s my life.”
    “I understand that completely, who better than I? I came up through the ranks just like you.”
    “I run Violent Crimes; I do it a damn sight better than anyone you might get to replace me.”
    The CoD nodded sympathetically. “I hear you, but times change, and so must we all. You’ll be moving over here.”
    Away from Alan Fraine and all her friends at Violent Crimes. Nona took a moment to settle the disharmony inside her, to calm down, to find a way to walk the fine line it would take to get what she wanted without terminally pissing off her superior. Bishop was one of a handful of powerful men inside the Metro Police. If he had a mind to, he could ruin her career.
    “This is an amazing opportunity, no question about it,” she began.
    Bishop smiled. “That’s more like it.”
    “But I must respectfully decline.”
    “You can’t decline, Nona, respectfully or otherwise.”
    “But the street is where I belong, Chief. It’s where I do my best work. I am skilled—”
    “The time has come to learn new skills.”
    She stood up. “It seems we’re at an impasse.”
    He pursed his lips. “If there’s anything I hate, it’s an impasse.”
    She said nothing, stood primly as a schoolgirl with her hands clasped in front of her.
    He leaned back, his fingers steepled, studying her intently. “Have you done something to your hair? A new style?”
    The silence stretched and yawned, gaping open to a future she could not abide.
    At length, the CoD sighed. “Okay, there is one way to keep the status quo, so to speak, for you to keep your