Her intentions were creditable, equally willing and prepared to alter her course and to challenge her limits. She had chosen a path, however, that was curious, given the fact that criminal investigation was not previously an avocation of hers, nor was it something for which she had been formally trained.

Nevertheless, it was appealing to her, if for no other reason than it offered an opportunity to escape the monotony and drudgery of her desk, to solve the worst of crimes, and to put her share of bad guys behind bars.

Having dutifully considered the reassignment, the key question had become what her betters would think about her desire to move. The way she had it figured, Ordinales would take his cue from Crosby, who would, after some initial internal debate, rest on the notion that retaining her employment was better than losing her, even if it meant transferring her out of her current position.

Or, likewise, Ordinales could summarily deny her request without giving her a proper explanation, in which case she would be left with a personal choice, either remaining in charge of the mental health of Crosby’s staff or moving on to another new and challenging opportunity elsewhere.

As she moved briskly down the hallway toward the boss’s office, she considered her chances of success to be very good, somewhere in excess of seventy-to-eighty percent.

She entered and approached his desk, ignoring the fact that Crosby was sitting on the sofa behind her. Her attention was on Ordinales, who offered her a suggestion to sit.

She backed up, careful to avoid a stack of papers on the floor, and sat beside Crosby on the sofa, with the idea in her head that she did not want to risk being outflanked. Ordinales smiled in recognition, though he had not planned it to play out that way. Dispensing with the social graces, he was the first to speak.

“So, Cheryl, I understand that you have something you’d like to discuss with us?”

“Yes, and thank you. I’ll get right to the point, which is, I want to move full-time to C.I.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“This is something you’ve been considering very carefully for some time, I take it?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I see. What is your rationale?”

“Simply, it is in my best interest, meaning, it’s what I’ve come to believe is in my best interest in the short term, and I want to do it full time going forward.”

“What about your role ensuring the emotional—.”

“Promote my assistant, Jean Shaffar!” Dewing blurted out.

“Is she qualified?” asked Crosby. “We haven’t seen much of her.”

“She can handle the job, and she can handle you!”

Crosby smiled at what he considered to be a backhand compliment, however misplaced it might have been.

“She has an excellent background. She’s worked for me for two years now, and she’s ready.”

Ordinales toggled his head, weighing up the selection of her understudy, before encouraging Dewing to move on.

“That was the second piece, actually. First piece involves assigning me indefinitely to Williamsburg.”

“Hmm.”

She waited, as neither of the men immediately responded. So, she summarized her proposal once more.

“I’d move to detective work in Williamsburg, and Jean would then replace me in Med-Psych.”

“That’s a pretty good imagination you’ve got there,” Crosby replied, after some time.

“I’ve been brewing this one for many months, Charles. This is not a snap decision, and ... well, to be perfectly honest ... it keeps me in-house,” said Dewing, hesitating slightly, before slamming the case shut.

Ordinales recognized her position well made, and he grinned knowingly to make his own point to Crosby.

“What do you think, Charles?”

“I could say ‘no’, you know?” he said, glaring at Dewing.

“You won’t,” she advised.

“We would be losing a precious resource.”

“On the contrary, Charles, you will be keeping one!” Dewing said with a winning smile.

“So, the world turns,” said Crosby.

“Is that checkmate?”

Ordinales actually chuckled aloud this time, enjoying the fact that Crosby had been cornered and was getting his lunch handed to him. There was still time, and Crosby rested his hopes on one more retort, which Dewing was ready for and pounced on accordingly.

“You’d need someone with you. I don’t have anyone to give you right now. We’re full-up in the field.”

“You have one man,” she confirmed.

“Nope.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Who?”

“Your retiring right hand!”

“Jack? You think Jack would elect to chase you around the town of Williamsburg at his age?”

“He chases me now,” Dewing said, smartly.

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“No, Cheryl, why don’t you ask him.”

Ordinales again chuckled, enjoying the exchange.

“Well, okay, Charles, but you know, if you leave it up to me to persuade Jack to do something I want him to do, well, that’s not much of a challenge!”

Crosby threw his hands up into the air in mock surrender, dropping his chin to his chest. After a couple seconds of silence, he stood and quickly left the room, leaving Dewing staring quizzically at Ordinales, hoping for an explanation.

“His way of exiting before the match is over,” he explained.

Dewing shook her head in disgust.

“He’ll claim the discussion never concluded and therefore he never agreed to it, should anything go wrong.”

She smiled.

That sounded like the Charles Crosby that she had known now for going on ten years.

“Have you talked to Bass about this?” asked Ordinales.

Her face immediately turned solemn at the mention of their former boss, who had been lying in the hospital with a staff infection in his leg for several days. The most recent prognosis had not been good, indicating that the infection had spread to other parts of his body.

“No,” she said. “I’m sure he’d counsel me to do whatever I thought was in my best interest.”