Before leaving the counter, Jack glanced through the front window. He wanted to see what was waiting for him when he exited.. Habit. Noting nothing out of the ordinary, he stepped out and walked to the curb. He uncapped the beer and chugged it down in one delicious gulp. Jack licked his lips and wiped them with the back of his hand. He put the empty bottle back in the paper bag, tossed it in the trash and stepped off the curb just as the walk signal turned green.
Jack rarely drank more than one drink anymore. When he and Lizzie had first begun dating he made the mistake of having one too many at a party with some of her friends. They had gone to a bar for dinner and Jack drank more than he thought. He babbled some really scary stuff in front of her. True but scary. The next day Lizzie asked him about it and Jack mumbled something about his undercover persona. She had been too hung-over to doubt him. He never made that mistake again. He knew he couldn’t let his secrets come out. He was finally happy and he would do whatever it took to keep it that way.
Jack arrived home and began the task of cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Running hot water in the sink he grabbed a clean sponge from under the counter. Turning on the radio to distract him, Jack set about his domestic goddess duties and laughed. If anyone would’ve told him three years ago that he would be doing dishes and living with a cop and a kid he would’ve split their head open on principle alone.
Chapter Nine
Joel Barnes pumped the stolen Honda’s brakes at the red light. Feeling the down coming on, he rummaged through the dirty ashtray for a half-smoked cigarette to at least curb one of the cravings beginning to make their mark. Good lord the sun was like knives in his eyes.
Joel fished around in his pocket for a lighter and lit the crusty butt of the cigarette he had found. He inhaled the acrid smoke and coughed a little. Tasted like crap. He stubbed it back out and rummaged through the center console to see if he could come up with enough change for a fresh pack. He found a quarter, some sticky skittles, a few fries and some straw wrappers all crumpled up. Whoever owned this car was a slob. He reached over and opened the glove compartment. Well, what do we have here he chuckled as he pulled out a small revolver. Nice! He rarely messed with guns. Just having one could get you in a mess of trouble with the cops and what he didn’t need was more trouble with the cops. He decided the little piece might come in handy so he put it in his coat pocket. It fit nice and snug. Maybe he could sell it for cigarette money or even better, a motel room for the night.
Joel looked up as the light turned green. As he pulled into the intersection, a man standing on the curb caught his eye. Joel blinked in disbelief as the man on the sidewalk took a bottle of booze out of a paper bag and put it to his lips.
“Well, I’ll be damned” he chuckled.
A full beard and a few more muscles accessorized his six foot two frame but Big Bro still had that certain snarl that even ten years couldn’t erase. A honk behind him shook Joel from his reverie.
“Keep your tighty whiteys on” Joel grumbled. He made a left and one hundred feet later, a tight U-turn. Pulling up to the curb where he could keep his brother in sight, Joel examined him; watching him chug a beer. His brother could always out drink him. He looked good. He looked like he had stayed off the sauce. Joel saw his brother throw the empty bottle away, step off the curb and start across the street.
They played “spy” as kids and Joel always won. Big Bro came up with the game so they could steal food, money or valuables. The cat and mouse came in handy when they wanted to avoid the other kids in the group home. Joel decided he wanted to play it now.
Wanna play ‘spy’, Big Bro? Let’s see what you’ve been up to since you ditched me. Joel left the car at the curb and got out on foot. It was always more fun to stalk your prey in the natural way. It was easier to duck into doorways and behind concealment. No tons of metal to hide. Besides, this stolen Honda needed to be ditched. He couldn’t risk getting caught again. Taking a rag out of his pocket, Joel wiped down the steering wheel and the rest of the interior. He wiped the door handle and threw the half-smoked butt into the gutter. No DNA, no prints.
Joel walked against the red light. He wasn’t worried. This was Martinville. Nobody paid attention. He kept half a block between him and his prey. He ducked and dove in the shadows even though it was unnecessary. Big Bro never looked back.
Joel started to get a little angry. Bro, you aren’t even playing right! No counter surveillance. Nothing! Joel could see his brother had gotten comfortable.
Three blocks later, Joel watched his brother let himself in through the front door of a building of flats. Four floors with a yellow exterior. It looked like it had been built in the twenties but would never survive the next big quake. These old buildings were monuments to architecture but if the state fell into the bay as predicted by all those weirdos, Joel was sure the whole of the bay area would plunge, man-bun first.
Joel paused across the street and scoped out the building. Brick on the outside and little flower gardens on every windowsill. Suburbs and stroller moms. Gag. He hated the suburbs. They reminded Joel of everything he wasn’t and would never be.
These people had money. Maybe his brother did too. That would be helpful. He wondered where his brother had gotten the scratch to live in a place like this. What kind of con was he pulling? No way he had gone straight and had a legit job. If he had, he wouldn’t be home in the middle of the day drinking beer, that’s for sure.
Ok big brother let’s see what you got going on here
Joel cautiously entered the foyer of the apartment building. He examined the bank of small mailboxes that lined the foyer wall. He found a name he recognized and grinned devilishly. Well, well, well, you sneaky bastard.
Joel elected to climb the four flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator. Less chance of being seen that way and he could duck into another floor if someone came his way. He entered the fourth floor through the door from the stairwell and turned left down a long corridor. Little plant stands stood sentry outside each door and everyone had those dumb mats welcoming visitors to knock. Joel hated it. These people were such posers and apparently, his Big Bro had decided to enter mainstream suburbandome along with all the other sheeple.
Joel found the door to number 4D. A wreath on the door signified Fall was here. Stupid plastic pumpkins and colored leaves hot glued to a circle of straw. Some craft project a third grader could do. Gag me again. His brother was into this life good. Well, he was in for a surprise and Joel couldn’t wait to see the look on his brother’s face when he saw Joel had come home.
Joel grumbled under his breath, “Always leaving me to move on to bigger and better, aren’t you? Leaving my ass behind. You’re caught now brother dear. ‘Spy’ is over and I want my prize.”
Chapter Ten
Officer Dekker opened his locker and stared inside. This was the first time he had put on a uniform in over four years. He absent-mindedly ran his hand over his freshly shaved face. Working narcotics could sport a nice trashy beard and long hair. Now he was back in blues and the regulations mandated short hair, clean-shaven.
These past two years had been a jumble tumble mess and Dekker’s chest tightened just thinking about what happened. He was lucky to have survived the stress of it all. The humiliation, the public and private scrutiny, the doubt.
Dekker frowned at the sergeant chevrons on his class A uniform jacket. Even though he had been demoted to a training officer he kept the chevrons on his formal jacket. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe he just needed a reminder of what he used to love. Maybe somewhere inside he held out a little hope of sewing those chevrons back on his regular uniform once again.
Dekker counted himself fortunate that he hadn’t lost his job during the last investigation. He skated by with just a demotion. He couldn’t believe they would let him train rookies after all the accusations he survived.
Dekker was still in the dark about what happened in that last operation but someone had died and another someone got away with a
ton of dope and cash. He took the fall for it. The accusation of “failure to supervise” and subsequent criminal investigation put him out of commission for quite some time. When cash and drugs go missing and a drug dealer gets shot and killed during a routine buy bust– heads will turn. When they did, the eyes were looking right at him.
Dekker wasn’t even there when it happened but he couldn’t justify that with Internal Affairs. Narcotic’s was Dekker’s unit after all so he took the hit. He hadn’t necessarily lied about where he was and what he was doing. Dekker just hadn’t been prepared to admit he had been sleeping off a bender from the night before and hadn’t even known about the operation. He realized too late that Werner had gotten in over his head. Dekker knew he should have been there. He should have been supervising and making sure nothing went south. He mentally kicked himself every time he thought about that day.
Dekker had retained a good lawyer. With half-truth and circumstantial evidence on his side, there wasn’t enough to put him off the force completely. Losing his sergeant status was painful but at least he still had his job.
Dekker’s team had backed his play and taking the hit had gone a long way with them. At least most of them. Dekker winced at the knowledge that Werner was now not only in charge of his old squad but an even bigger jerk than ever.
So here Dekker was. Getting ready to hit the streets with a rookie. A female no less. He was only five years from his pension so he could ride this gig to retirement if he stayed under the radar. As long as his rookie was easy and he could manage not to make any further mistakes, he just might make it.
“First day back, huh?” A deep voice penetrated his trip down memory lane. Werner walked in with his hulking frame and attitude to boot. This man was the most arrogant man Dekker knew.
“They let you come back after all, hey? Back on rookie duty.”
“What do you want, Bill”
“Nothing, old man. I just came by to wish you good luck in all your new endeavors. Sitter to the baby cops.” Werner smirked in derision.
“Yeah? Well thanks. Your well wishes are enormously uplifting”
“Maybe this time you can keep your rooks from getting their butts in a ringer. And just maybe, you don’t get anyone killed”
“Maybe this time I can train a new boot to have some integrity and a little more humility.”
“I’m sure if you had integrity you could teach it.”
“I know you had something to do with that missing money. What happened to your informant? I bet you had a little something to do with his disappearance as well.”
“You can’t prove a damn thing. Dirty cop, you’re lucky you only got a suspension and demotion. Come after me and see what happens. You think your career bump is painful just watch me burn you to the ground. You had your chance to get on board and you blew it. Wanna be a whistleblower? Be very careful about that decision or you may get bagpipes instead.”
Dekker threw the punch before he had even thought it, knocking Werner square in the jaw.
Werner recovered from the cheap shot almost immediately. Catching Dekker’s outstretched wrist, Werner twirled him around and put him in a chokehold. Werner outweighed and out-muscled Dekker by at least fifty pounds and was lesser in years by ten. More fit, more agile and angrier.
“Listen here, old man. That little love tap was nothing. You can't hurt me. You can't even scratch me!”
Dekker struggled unsuccessfully to get out of the hold but he was losing consciousness. Werner’s muscles flexed against Dekker’s carotid artery a little tighter making the empty locker room grow fuzzy around the edges. “Screw you” Dekker muscled through clenched teeth
“Not until you say ‘Uncle’” Werner chuckled in his ear.
“Not a chance.” Dekker could actually feel his facing turning reddish purple.
A group of officers going off duty pushed through the locker room door with a bang. Werner quickly released Dekker.
Officer Camden quickly evaluated the scene in front of him. “What’s going on here gentleman?”
“Nothing” Werner said, a smile encompassing his white teeth. Werner released his grip on Dekker’s throat and dusted of his shoulder exaggeratedly.
“A little wrestling match for old times' sake is all. Me and old Sarge here are just catching up.”
With that, Werner clapped Dekker on the back with a hard thump that made him lurch forward. Dekker bent over at the waste catching his breath and his hand stabilizing him on the bench in front of him.
“Uh huh. Doesn’t look like he needs anymore of your well wishes.”
“I was just on my way out anyway, kiss-ass.”
Werner jostled his way through the rest of the officers who were pretending not to notice the mini squall. With a few fist bumps Werner sauntered out of the locker room door.
“You ok, Sarge?” Camden asked as he opened the locker next to Dekker’s and began undressing.
Dekker sat on the bench catching his breath.
“Yes. I’m just not as young as I used to be.”
“That guys an Adam Henry.”
“Guys like him are a dime a dozen. Just stay away from him. He's trouble.”
“I know Sarge. I’m sorry you ended up here but at least you still have a job”
“You think I did what they say”
“No” Camden looked down and away from Dekker’s gaze. He was a little embarrassed to realize that maybe he had believed some of it.
“Don’t worry, kid. It's old business and you don’t have to choose sides. Just keep your own nose clean.”
“Look, I wasn’t there and don’t know all the details. I know if Werner had anything to do with it, it was nothing straight up. I’ve been around him enough to know that guy works in the gray.”
“Camden, you’ve only been here six months. Do yourself a favor and do your own thing. Don’t align with anyone. Me or Werner. It can come back and bite you.”
“Noted.” Camden gathered up his belongings and secured his locker. Dekker glanced up at Camden’s outstretched hand. He smiled a crooked smile as he shook it.
“I’m out of here,” said Camden. “Have a good shift. Be safe.”
“Will do.”
Dekker got up heavily and finished getting dressed. Great way to start off his first day back. Everything that happened in his career over the last two years threatened to overshadow this next chapter. He had to let it go somehow. Dekker slammed his locker door shut. The slam echoed loudly his sentiment on his entire police career.
Chapter Eleven
Lizzie stood in front of the full-length mirror in the women’s locker room, listening to the good-natured rough and tumble sounds coming through the shared wall of the men’s locker room. She smiled and straightened her gig line. The city of Roland was nothing like the sleepy town of Bodega where she had grown up but the 52 miles of shoreline Roland boasted had seemed as close to home as she could get. Roland garnered the title of “most dangerous city per capita” but even that hadn’t deterred her.
Another loud thump from the men’s locker room shook the mirror in front of her. If the guys letting off steam next door were anything to go by, she wondered what they would think of her. Gathering her long blond hair into her fist she twisted it tightly into a bun on top of her head and slicked back all the fly-aways. She glanced one more time in the mirror. The smattering of freckles across her nose didn’t help her look older than her twenty-six years but in fact made her appear almost like a kid playing dress up. Would anyone take her seriously? Shaking off the self-doubt that was creeping in, Lizzie gathered her duty bag. With her head held high in an effort to minimize the lack of confidence she felt, she made her way to the briefing room.
Lizzie stopped just inside the threshold of the briefing room. She took a minute to surveille the room and get her bearings. About 700 square feet, the room was filled with tables lined up end to end in rows of five. They all faced the front of the room where two large desks sat on a raised platform.
A bank of windows opposite the entrance gave view to the north parking lot where rows of patrol cars were backed into their assigned spots. Lizzie could see several motor officers polishing up the chrome on their bikes.
Lizzie knew the front row of seats were set aside as “rookie row” but she wasn’t sure what etiquette dictated. Did she grab a seat? Stand in the back until told to take a seat? She was early but being the first one in the room meant she had no one to ask. The combination of first day nerves and hair pulled up tight produced the beginnings of a migraine.
Lizzie decided to take a seat in rookie row. She put her large gear bag down with a thump. Lizzie found her penal code and her ten codes. She figured if she was studying when everyone else came in, she might reduce the chances of getting hassled. She heard from other rookies that the first day could be tough and to expect some good-natured hazing. Being a woman in a man’s profession was tough. This may be the 20th century but some of the guys still didn’t believe women should be doing “their” job and made no secret about it. Lizzie set her teeth in defiance at the thought and tried not to make herself look smaller. The local church bells began to ring, signaling four o’clock and officers started to trickle into the room.
Chapter Twelve
Lizzie needn’t have worried. The officers entered but no one even glanced her way as they took their seats behind her. She glanced up from her codebook as an older cop sauntered into the room. He stared at her as he slid behind her chair. He took a seat at the end of her row and crossed his ankle over his knee.
“Hey Superman what’s up the red socks?” Laughed an officer from the back. Lizzie couldn’t tell who was making the comment and she dared not turn around to see. She could still feel “red socks” eyes on her.
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