Diane rubbed the stress out of the back of her neck while she waited for Claire to return. She made more calls, first to the TRO Clinic, then to the DV shelter. No beds available. People were in sleeping bags in the hallways. Diane envisioned the city filled with an army of angry, intoxicated men in stained undershirts holding fort in their apartments, forcing their wives and children to flee for their lives in the middle of winter. Her face was burning, and her hands were shaking.

�Are you all right?� John asked.

�NO!� Diane snapped.

John jumped back in shock when she yelled. Claire walked into the squad room in time to rescue poor John.

�Whoa, Diane! You need to back off the caffeine today,� Claire said, cheerfully flipping her red hair behind her ears as she set down her pocketbook and hung her coat on her chair.

�Claire, we have a DV case in the field. Let�s suit up and go,� Diane said, heading for the locker room.

�What the hell kind of bug crawled up her butt?� Claire made a rude face at John, who blushed, as usual. This was getting too easy, and she was almost bored of shocking him. Almost.

�DV hits too close to home, I guess. She gets really mad.�

Claire shrugged and followed Diane into the locker room. �Kevlar, it is.�

Normally, Claire would let Diane�s mood go. But on a DV case like this one, she didn�t need her partner flipping out. In the car, Claire laid down the law.

�Listen, Diane. One psycho perpetrator per response call is enough for me.�

�Yeah. So, what are you getting at?�

�I�m saying we get a shit load of DV cases this time every year. So why are you all bent out of shape on this one?�

�I�m not bent out of shape,� Diane growled.

�For God�s sake, listen to yourself,� Claire said, her voice barely above a whisper.