Dad installed it.
Mom insisted the green color looked better than black.
We argued about that for fifteen minutes.
Then she won.
She always did.
When I returned home after the swearing-in ceremony, I changed out of my formal uniform and into clothes suitable for the warm afternoon.
My white blouse was lightweight but layered over a pale-yellow lace-trimmed top. I wore a fitted white skirt and green-strapped heels, with gold jewelry and my favorite patterned designer handbag.
My hair was short, thick, and naturally curly.
I hadn't worn it that way for most of my early police career.
For years, I worried that appearing too feminine, too fashionable, or too visibly different from the older male commanders around me would make people take me less seriously.
Then one day, I realized I was spending too much energy trying to resemble a version of leadership that had never been designed with women like me in mind.
I could be professional in uniform.
I could be decisive during emergencies.
I could manage budgets and difficult personnel decisions.
And I could still enjoy beautiful clothes when I was off duty.
Those things weren't contradictions.
I had spent too many years proving myself to people who moved the standard every time I met it.
At home, I wanted to be Camille.
Not Chief Brooks.
Just Camille.
I was expecting my parents at six.
We planned to cook dinner together, open a bottle of sparkling cider, and talk about everything except work.
At least, that was my plan.
Dad would probably ask a hundred questions about the department.
Mom would insist I eat more.
And my younger brother, Marcus, would arrive late with some ridiculous excuse involving traffic.
I was looking forward to it.
At one-thirty, I stepped outside to check the flowers.
The afternoon was bright.
The air smelled faintly of warm stone and citrus.
I bent to examine a rosebush near the front path.
Then noticed a police cruiser turning slowly onto the street.
I glanced up.
At first, I assumed the officer was responding to a call at another house.
The cruiser passed two driveways.