5:30am: I’m awake before my alarm goes off. Call me crazy, but I love early mornings. When you’ve got a stressful job, you need some time to center yourself, and early mornings do that for me. It helps that my husband, Douglass, does most of the cooking, and he makes breakfast for our kids, Martin and Mercy. Martin takes after me and gets up early; Mercy needs to be wrestled out of bed. I’m an NYPD detective and I can tell you I’ve had an easier time subduing violent suspects than I have waking my eight-year-old daughter up.

7:00am: I’m in my car heading south. My family lives in an apartment in Washington Heights, which is near the northern tip of Manhattan, though it’s a world away from the shiny skyscrapers and bright lights that most people think of when New York comes to mind. Mercy’s eight years old and I drop her off at her before-school program in Harlem. That gives Martin and me some time to talk. He’s fourteen and tends to communicate in exaggerated eye-rolls and sighs at home, but one-on-one, he opens up. I drop him off at Hunter College High School. Yes, my boy is a smart one.

8:00am: I work out of the Midtown North precinct on West Fifty-Fourth Street, which is a pretty crazy place. Best way I can describe it is this: we’re a stone’s throw from the infamous Studio 54, and we cover Times Square and Hell’s Kitchen. If you think there’s ever a quiet moment, you’re dreaming. It’s not unusual for me to walk in and find costumed characters duking it out over a stolen tip from a tourist. There’s usually an Elmo involved, and this is something I hide from my daughter, who still adores that furry red character. Elmos are bad news.

9:00am: Yes, I’m watching the clock and wondering where my new partner is. His name is Rafael Mendoza and he’s transferred in from Los Angeles. He’s. . . very different from my last partner, Sandy Reilly. Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about him yet. Sandy and I worked together for a decade before he retired and he’s like family to me. He can drive me nuts, and we argue, but we’re on the same wavelength. This new guy, I’m not so sure about. He plays his cards close to his vest.

9:10am: Rafael’s still not here. We’ve got a witness we need to talk to and you know what? I’ll do it myself.

11:00am: I’m back at the precinct and the first thing my new partner says is, “Why didn’t you wait for me? We’re supposed to be partners, right?” I tell him that’s true, which is why he needs to drag his butt in earlier in the morning. When Rafael snarks back at me I roll my eyes. Then I realize where my son gets that tendency from. Oops.

12:00pm: Lunch at my desk from the taco truck at the corner. To be fair to Rafael, when he’s at work, he works. We’re drowning in data from a big case—phone records, bank statements, Internet history, witness statements—and he’s meticulous as he goes through it. Maybe there’s hope for him, after all.

2:00pm: There are parts of my job I love, and some I don’t. This afternoon, I have to testify in criminal court. When you see this on TV, it looks exciting. In reality. . . it’s a lot of hurry-up-and-wait. I bring work with me and Rafael and I text back and forth. When I’m finally called up to testify, I’m ready.

5:00pm: In theory, I’m done with my workday, but this isn’t the kind of job you clock out of at a set time. Ever since I got my gold shield over a decade ago, it’s been like that. Rafael and I meet up at the Medical Examiner’s office regarding another case we’re on. TV cops get to work on one case at a time. In real life, it’s never that simple. For example, I’ve got my eye on a suspect from a case a year ago; a friend of his died in a fall from the roof of his building. Sandy and I couldn’t prove it was murder, so the suspect skated. For now.

7:00pm: By the time I get home, the rest of my family is finishing dinner. Did I mention that my husband’s a terrific chef? Evenings are for family, whether that means homework or unwinding together. My kids are sci-fi fans, like me. By 10pm, I’ll be in bed, and I get to do it all over again tomorrow. I can’t wait.

You can read more about Sheryn in One Small Sacrifice, the first book in the NEW “Shadows of New York” series, released June 1, 2019.

NYPD detective Sheryn Sterling has had her eye on Alex Traynor ever since his friend Cori fell to her death under suspicious circumstances a year ago. Cori’s death was ruled a suicide, but Sheryn thinks Alex—a wartime photojournalist suffering from PTSD—got away with murder. When Alex’s fiancée, Emily, a talented and beloved local doctor, suddenly goes missing, Sheryn suspects that Alex is at the center of a disturbing case. Sheryn dislikes loose ends, and Cori’s death had way too many of them. But as Sheryn starts pulling at the threads in this web, her whole theory unravels. Everyone involved remembers the night Cori died differently—and the truth about her death could be the key to solving Emily’s disappearance.

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Meet the author
Hilary Davidson grew up in Toronto, but moved to New York in October 2001 because of her (very persuasive) husband, Dan. She has won two Anthony Awards as well as the Derringer, Spinetingler, and Crimespree awards. She is the author of the Lily Moore series—which includes The Damage Done, The Next One to Fall, and Evil in All Its Disguises—as well as the hardboiled thriller Blood Always Tells, and a short-story collection called The Black Widow Club. Her next novel, One Small Sacrifice, was published by Thomas & Mercer in June 2019. Hilary is also the author of 18 nonfiction books.

To learn more about Hilary, visit her website at hilarydavidson.com, or find her on Facebook, on Twitter, or Instagram

All comments are welcomed.

Tell us, who’s your favorite fictional police detective? Thanks to Hilary Davidson for donating a print copy of One Small Sacrifice. Giveaway ends June 11, 2019 and is limited to U.S. residents. Please leave comment in box below. The winner will be notified by email (so check your spam folder). Good luck everyone!