“It’s no circus, sir, I assure you,” Midnight replied coolly. She already knew she could not work with this man. “I am very careful about who backs me up.”
“Backs you up?” Moss echoed cryptically, his tone almost a sneer. “You are no longer a street cop, Chief Chevalier. You no longer require backup officers.”
“No, I require someone who knows when and where to make critical remarks, and also knows better than to judge people by their age, sex, or who he thinks their family is.”
“You’re saying I’ve judged you?” Moss replied, looking affronted again.
“Oh, you’ve judged me. You had me all figured out, right up until you knew who I was.”
“I don’t like games, Ms. Chevalier.”
“It’s Chief Chevalier, or Mrs. Debenshire—pick one,” Midnight replied, her voice cold enough to freeze fire. It was her standard answer to anyone that called her Ms. Chevalier. She knew using the term “Ms.” was a way to put her in her place, and she wouldn’t stand for being put anywhere for long.
“I see. Well, Chief Chevalier, I don’t appreciate this kind of behavior from a Chief of Police,” Moss said, determined to make his point.
Midnight looked thoughtful for a few minutes, then said, “Well, I don’t like being talked to like a child either. So I guess that makes us even.”
Moss gave her a sour look and refused to speak again during the drive to the office. Midnight gave herself a mental shake, reminding herself that this was not part of the interview, only a way of seeing what these people were really like. She knew she was going to have a really hard time being objective toward this man now, but that was why she had an interview panel to work with her.
She had selected three other people to be on the panel. One of them was Spider Nguyen, a longtime friend and a lieutenant in her narcotics division. He was an original member of Midnight’s gang task force, and formerly a gang leader himself. He was quiet and reserved, but his mind was always working and the term “still waters run deep” fit Spider quite well. In the years she’d known him, he’d surprised her frequently with his depth of understanding of the human psyche. For someone that had never had any formal schooling in psychology, to Midnight’s way of thinking, Spider was still a master of the science. She also knew Spider didn’t always agree with her way of thinking; however, when he argued with her, he did so with no emotion. It was always a nice change to have one man that actually discussed things with her rather than ranting and raving, as she was used to with Rick and Joe.
Midnight had also selected an officer from patrol, Tim Simmons. He was a ten-year veteran of patrol, and had fairly good insight into what people really meant when they said something. He was used to deciphering verbal skirmishes on the street; his intuition was excellent. Midnight was fairly sure she could get a highly unbiased opinion from him. She also felt it important to have someone from each rank in on the interviews. Midnight knew that different levels in her organization had different takes on the kind of person they thought would make a good Assistant Chief. Midnight wanted the benefit of those differing opinions.
Midnight’s third choice was the person she called her “transplant.” Jessica Ako, who was now married to a member of Midnight’s original task force, Tiny, was a very good addition to the department. Jessica had come to San Diego to “visit” Joe Sinclair during a very rough time in all of their lives when things were in a major upheaval. Rick and Midnight had been separated; Joe and his wife, Randy, had been as well. There had been a dirty cop playing both sides against the middle, and he was winning when he and his drug dealer friends had snatched Joe out of his bed one night. It had been Jessica’s insight that had given them the break they needed in figuring out who was behind the abduction. She had put them on the trail of a cop, and had eventually led them right to Dick Dickerson, a dirty cop working with the drug cartel. Midnight had been forever grateful to Jessica for her help in that case, and had gladly given her a job with San Diego Police Department when she applied. Jessica had quickly worked her way up to sergeant and was now part of the internal affairs unit.
Walking into the interview room, leading a still-disgruntled Moss, Midnight glanced at her panel. She saw Spider’s eyes narrow immediately, and knew he sensed the antagonism from Moss. She introduced each member of the panel, stating their names and ranks and the units they worked for. When she got to Simmons, she could see that Moss was surprised that a patrolman was on the panel. Good, Midnight thought. Let him be surprised.
The interview began, and Moss answered every question, but did so with little or no embellishment. His answers were to the point; he did not give any details of his experiences, merely listing his assignments. When asked what he felt was most important in a work environment, he looked directly at Midnight and said, “I don’t feel that law enforcement should be reduced to a series of games.”
Midnight looked back at him, her face impassive, staring right back into his eyes with no trace of the shame or guilt he obviously expected to see in hers.
Spider took that cue and pursued the issue. “What kind of games would you be talking about, sir?”
Moss glanced at Spider, noting the almost guileless look on the man’s face, and cleared his throat. “I was talking about power plays, young man. When people feel they have an advantage and use it to put others at a handicap. It is a poor way to do business.”
“So you’re saying,” Midnight began, leaning back in her chair, “people should always proclaim themselves, so mistakes won’t be made in judgement?” Now she leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table, folding her hands together, her gold-green eyes piercing his. “Wouldn’t you say it is the responsibility of the individual to moderate themselves, with all levels of people?” She smiled then, a wintery smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I mean, today’s gang leader could be tomorrow’s Chief of Police, right? One never does know.”
Moss stared back at her, obviously taken aback by her attitude and the fact that she was quite soundly chastising him for his behavior without actually sounding to the others like she was doing any more than posing a philosophical question. It was at that moment he realized he had made a fatal error in misjudging this woman. He had taken her for another token female in a field dominated by men. Granted, this one had done quite well for herself, but again, he had attributed that to the political climate of the time. Hell, there had just been a female United States Attorney General, right? And look what a debacle that had been! It didn’t mean anything. This woman, however, he had misjudged, and in realizing that, and knowing it was too late to change his tune now, Moss merely inclined his head in acquiescence. She was right, after all, to a point. Besides, she was the Chief of Police; no matter why he thought she was there, she had the final say over everything in the department. Moss knew he wasn’t getting that job, but he had gained a new respect for the chief of the San Diego Police Department.
Later, Midnight sat in her office, thinking over the interview. She knew that in the end Moss had conceded defeat, and while she felt he had sorely needed the setting down she’d given him, she hoped he understood that his attitude wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t getting the job. She intended to call him at a later date to explain. Reflecting on it now, she knew that Moss, given time, could come around to her way of thinking, but Midnight didn’t think she could be patient enough to take the time to dispense with all of his mindsets and prejudices. She realized he had thought her a simple piece of fluff, part of the department as “window dressing,” to make the city council look good. She appreciated that in the end he had obviously changed that thinking, but it was still only a first step. She knew it would take a lot of time to make him believe that she really did know how to run her department, and that she needed someone to back her all the way on issues, or offer valuable opposing opinions, without prejudice or malice. She didn’t think Moss would be ready for a partnership like that for a long time, and she didn’t have time to wait. She needed help now.
&n
bsp; Her next interview was with Barbary. He was a salty dog, which Midnight had no problem with. He didn’t recognize Midnight when she picked him up at the airport, but he made no off-color comments either, nor did he speak down to her. When she pulled into her parking space at the department, marked with a sign that said “Reserved for Chief Chevalier-Debenshire,” he glanced over at her and said, “Don’t you think the chief will get mad you’re parking in her space?”
Midnight laughed in spite of herself, and said, “No, I won’t get mad at me.” It took Barbary a moment or two, but then he started to nod as if he finally got it.
“So you’re the chief, huh?” He sounded nonplussed, which to Midnight was a good thing.
“Yes, sir, I am,” she replied, getting out of the car. He followed suit.
“Heard you looked young for your age,” he said, his tone not depreciating at all.
“Well, thanks, I think,” Midnight said, laughing a little. He seemed nice enough, but a bit on the colorless side. Of course, she thought, all the men I know are so colorful most of the time it’s blinding! Normal might not be a bad thing.
They went into the interview room, and again, Midnight made the introductions. Barbary gave no indication of having a problem with the ranks in the panel. The interview began, and Midnight was quickly disappointed in his lack of enthusiasm for law enforcement. When asked what he felt was most important about the job, he said, “It’s a paycheck.” Midnight cringed inwardly. Now she knew why he was still only a captain after so many years with the department. He had no real drive. She wasn’t sure what had motivated him to apply for the Assistant Chief’s job, but she knew it wasn’t a desire to improve things.
In truth, Barbary had applied because his wife, Edna, had told him she thought San Diego would be a nice place to eventually retire in, and wouldn’t it be nice if he could draw a bigger pension. Barbary would do anything for Edna, even if it meant being stuck as some Assistant Chief in a big department. He knew the suits never really did any of the work; they always had someone to do it for them. Ever since he’d made captain at Sacramento PD it had been a free ride. He had lieutenants that did all the work. All he had to do was sign the paperwork they put on his desk and kick back the rest of the day. How much harder could Assistant Chief be? It would be a bigger check, and probably even less to do.
After the second interview, Midnight went back to her office feeling rather despondent. She was halfway through her candidates and so far there was no hope whatsoever. As if he could sense her need for support, Rick appeared in her doorway.
“Lunch?” he asked lightly.
Midnight looked up at him, and he could see her despair instantly. He walked over and pulled her out of her chair. He hugged her close, nuzzling her temple with his lips.
“That bad?” he asked softly.
Midnight nodded against his chest.
“Come on,” Rick said, taking her hand and walking toward the door. He led her out into the outer office, where her secretary sat. Cassandra looked up and smiled. Rick grinned back at her, silently thanking her for calling and telling him that Midnight “needed” him. He said, “The chief is out to lunch for about two hours.”
“Yes, sir.” Cassandra smiled. She absolutely adored Midnight Chevalier, and she thought Rick Debenshire was the best man on the planet for a husband. She envied the love that they shared, and hoped to find that for herself one day soon. In the meantime, she enjoyed helping out when she could, like the call she’d made to Rick’s office a few minutes ago. She’d seen immediately when Midnight walked into her office that she was very unhappy. Cassandra knew how important hiring an Assistant Chief was for Midnight’s own well-being, but she also knew how difficult it was going to be to find anyone able to handle Midnight’s independence, quick wit, intellect, and work ethic. Cassandra hoped the next two interviews would go better, and that Rick could get Midnight back in a better frame of mind.
In his Mustang, Rick didn’t say much, just drove. He knew Midnight was busy thinking things through and trying to get a game plan for the next two interviews. He could see how desperately unhappy she was, and he knew eventually she’d tell him all about it. Rick knew his wife well enough to understand he didn’t need to push her to get her to tell him what was wrong; he just needed to give her time to assimilate it first.
They were seated on the outside deck of an ocean-side restaurant when Midnight finally started talking. Rick listened to the entire story without comment. He’d ordered her wine, and watched her drink two glasses while she talked. He also ordered their food without asking her, knowing her preferences as well as his own, and that she needed to get some actual food into her stomach before the wine hit her.
“So, now I’m down to two, Rick. Two!” she said miserably, taking note that his eyes were trailing over to the wine glass in her hand, which she had just drained for the second time. “I’m okay,” she said, but even as she did, she felt a bit light-headed. Oh good, Chevalier. Get blasted before your next interview—that’ll go over big! she thought morosely.
“Uh-huh,” Rick said, his grin showing that he was unconvinced, and she knew he could tell she wasn’t okay. “So, Moss sucked, and Barbary sucked worse?” Rick summed up in his usual fashion.
Midnight laughed at the simplistic statement. “Well, Barbary didn’t suck, he just… he was kinda lifeless, ya know?”
“Doesn’t sound like he’s in it for the job,” Rick stated, aware that that was what was bothering Midnight.
“Nope, and I just can’t work with that. Now, Moss I might have been able to work with, but he would need a lot of substantiation to show him I know what I’m doing before we could ever work as a team.” She scrubbed at her face in frustration. “I don’t have time for that!”
“No, you don’t,” Rick said, looking thoughtful for a long minute as they food arrived. After the waiter had walked away, he said, “But if worse comes to worst, he might be a good choice. He’s already shown you that he can change his attitude. That’s pretty good for someone that set in his ways.”
“True,” Midnight said, taking a bite of the fish he’d ordered for her. “Oh, this is good.” She smiled at him. It was amazing that he knew her so well that he knew exactly what she’d like, even though they’d never been to this restaurant before. “So, do you think I should change my tactics with the next two?” she asked, worrying that she was putting the candidates off.
Rick thought about it for a minute, then shook his head. “No, because I think that knowing they don’t know who you are, or do, gives you a feel for how interested they are in the department versus just the position itself. It doesn’t sound to me like you’re doing anything that makes them act any differently than they normally would.”
Midnight laughed and shook her head. “Well, I’ll tell you, for a minute there I was ready to shoot Moss. I haven’t been talked down to like that since I was a rookie.”
“Well, he probably thought you were the young, beautiful secretary to some high-up official, getting light goof-off duty,” Rick said, grinning.
Midnight smiled. “Oh, sure, butter me up now.” She loved that he always complimented her, even if she never seemed to know how to handle it. She reached for the carafe of wine and saw his eyebrow rise. “I’m okay now,” she said, and he grinned. “What?” she asked with mock indignation.
“I thought you were okay before,” he said, his grin widening.
“Oh, shut up, Debenshire!” She laughed. “Guess I shouldn’t, huh?” She looked so appealingly contrite he wanted to pour her the glass himself.
“If you think you can handle it, but eat more of your food first.” He knew she was relying on his judgment here, and didn’t want her to overdo it when she needed all her wits about her for the next two interviews.
“Yes, dear,” she said, grinning.
They talked about other things then, enjoying the chance to spend some relaxing time out of the office in the middle of the day. After their lunch, they took a wal
k on the beach, holding hands like teenagers. They were a good-looking couple, and people’s heads turned as they passed by. When they reached a jetty, Rick leaned against the rocks, pulling her back against him and wrapping his arms around her waist. They stood watching the waves and the seagulls diving into them.
“Feel better?” Rick asked after a long while.
“Much,” Midnight replied, leaning her head back against the hollow of his shoulder. She glanced up at his profile, and he tilted his head down to look at her. “Thanks for this.”
He leaned down and kissed her temple gently. “Anytime, babe,” he said softly against her hair, his lips lingering.
“What do I do if the next two interviews are as bad as the first?” she asked, voicing the concern she’d had all along.
Rick shrugged. “Then we go back through the applications till we find the right one.”
“That will take so much work,” Midnight said, dejected again.
“Okay, we’ll blackmail Joe into taking the job,” Rick said, with a smile in his voice.
Midnight laughed. “You have blackmail material?”
“Oh yeah. I’ve known him a long time, remember?”
“You are evil, Mr. Debenshire,” Midnight chided, smiling up at him.
“And you are beautiful, Mrs. Debenshire,” Rick replied, moved by the look in her eyes. There were still so many times when he looked at his wife and could not fathom his good fortune at not only finding her, but having her actually fall in love with him as deeply as he’d fallen for her.
Her arms were over his, which were wrapped around her waist, and he took her hand and turned her around. He cupped her face, looking deep into her eyes. Midnight felt her stomach flutter at the look in his eyes, even as his lips descended slowly on hers. Midnight reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her as they kissed. His arms went around her waist again, one hand sliding up her back, his fingers splaying wide to hold her against him. When the kiss ended, his lips trailed across her cheek.
Past in the Present (MidKnight Blue Book 9) Page 2
