�Well, I have a little tree at home. On Christmas Eve, I usually cook a nice turkey, heat up some apple cider with cinnamon, crawl under a blanket and watch �A Christmas Carol� or �Scrooged� or �It�s a Wonderful Life,� whatever the networks are airing that night.�

�And on Christmas day?� Baldwin asked. Everyone was fascinated, because Claire kept to herself, and this was the first insight that anyone but Diane had been given into the secret life of her new partner since she arrived two weeks ago.

�Well, usually I go serve food down at the shelter,� Claire said self-consciously.

�St. Claire, that�s very noble of you,� Greg smiled. She stared daggers at him for that one. His smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. He was clearly scared of her, too.

The squad room emptied for the weekend. The detectives hoped the spirit of peace would envelop their neighborhood, and they would not need to return to work until the day after Christmas. The holidays, unfortunately, tended to bring out the worst in people. Dysfunctional families gather together, drink too much, and stage dramatic fights that highlight the conflict they have lived with during the entire year. Domestic violence cases usually drag the detectives back into the office at least once or twice during the holidays.

Diane hated to work those domestic cases. Every time she did, her own life flashed before her eyes. All those hated holidays, all the abuse. Everything intensified during the holidays, and by the time she was twelve, she had learned that Christmas wasn�t any celebration for her family; it was an annual conflagration. She hated the smell of pine needles, despised ornaments, and averted her eyes from twinkling lights. Her mood was dark when she finally left the station. She was the last one to leave, as if she could delay the start of the hated holiday weekend before her. The relaxation from her recent vacation was completely gone. In its place remained the unique stresses she experienced each year at this time.