by Lori L. Lake
“No.”
“That’s exactly what I figured. So don’t worry about it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have a good Christmas, okay? I’m off the next few days, so be good.” He smiled at her.
“No problem. Merry Christmas to you, too, sir.” She hiked down the long highway and out into the icy air to her truck. Snow was falling again, small frozen clumps, and the recently plowed streets were already covered over. She started the engine and popped in the CD as she wheeled out of the lot. A funky bass and percussion beat began, and she listened to the smooth jazzy voice singing about searching for and finding love. Dez frowned. Happy music. Everybody’s so goddamn happy. She accelerated down Dale Street, her eyes taking in every movement, every light. The song continued, the powerful voice sexy and self-assured.
She ejected the CD, one-handedly tucking it back in the case. The singer seemed to have a terrific voice, but she couldn’t take any more sappy happy stuff. Completing the rest of the drive home in silence, she parked in the garage out back and plodded up to the house which was alight, golden streamers of illumination causing the stucco house to look a little like a Christmas ornament. Dez didn’t notice. She plodded through the swiftly accumulating snow, climbed the back stairs, and with a weary sigh crept up to her apartment.
Right on time, Tim was waiting for Jaylynn behind the police station. She tossed her gym bag in the back seat and climbed in front.
“How was your night?” Tim asked.
With a sigh she said, “Not bad, not good, not really anything. Yours?”
He gave her a wide smile and peeled out of the lot. “The chef gave me a bottle of Cabernet, and the boss slipped me a card with a hundred bucks in it.”
“Tim! That’s great.”
“And we have a new maitre d’ who started last week. Kevin. I just met him, and oh my, Jay, he is so sweet. Whoo-wee!”
She rolled her eyes. “Do tell.”
“Blond. Slender. Beautiful hands. Blue eyes. About twenty-five. He looks fantastic in the tux. My heart skips beats just thinking about him.”
“Is he available? Hell, is he gay?”
“He for sure registers on my gaydar. I invited him to come share the Cabernet with me, and he accepted! He hasn’t got any family here in the Twin Cities, so I hope you and Sara don’t mind if he comes along. Hey!” He turned up the radio. “Have you heard this new song? It’s fabulous. Listen.”
A nice driving bass beat started and when a sultry female voice sang about a cool, mysterious blue-eyed woman, Jaylynn couldn’t help but smile a bitter little smile. Sounded exactly like Dez. “Who is this?”
Tim said, “I couldn’t believe it—Blondie! Remember them from back in about grade school? I saw her—Deborah Harry—in a movie a while back and she’s older than my mom. But man, what a voice.”
Jaylynn agreed as she continued to listen to the quick beat of the song. I think I’ll be buying that CD. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as they parked at the house. I wonder if Dez will like Lisa Stansfield? She was one of Jaylynn’s favorite musicians. She liked how the singer could go from jazzy tones to upbeat funk to solid love ballads. All three of her CDs were so sexy and full of emotion. She couldn’t help but feel happy listening to even the saddest of the songs.
They got out of the car, and she grinned as Tim nearly danced up the snow-strewn walk to the back door. It was hard to feel sad or out-of-sorts around him. He had a way of cheering up a person without even knowing he was doing it. She decided there was no use fretting about things she had no control over. Smiling as she felt the cool snowflakes on her face, she took his arm and they high-stepped into the house.
In the middle of the week following Christmas, Jaylynn went to her final classroom meeting with Sergeant Slade and her fellow rookies. The tests were over, the rigorous physical regimen was complete, and all thirteen recruits were scheduled to move on to the next phase of training.
Slade said, “You’re all done with the ‘grin and wave’ part of this training. Now you get down to the real thing. For the next six weeks, you’ll all work closely with your FTOs, and you’ll be expected to perform with exemplary skill. Think about what you’re doing. Use your best judgment. Talk to each other and share information. And please feel free to call me or come by the western precinct any time. I have an investment in your successes.”
After class, each recruit shook Slade’s hand and filed out, everyone talking and animated as they departed. Jaylynn hung back and waited for the others to leave. She shook Slade’s hand. “You’ve been an excellent teacher. I’ve really appreciated what you’ve done for all of us.”
“Savage, I know for a fact that you’ll be a very good cop. You’ve got a lot of talent.”
“Thank you, sir. But could I ask you a question?”
“Sure! Any time. My door is always open for you. I hope to hear great things from you in years to come.” He looked closely at her face. “Hmm, what is it?”
She wasn’t sure how to put it, so the words tumbled out. “I’m working with an FTO who’s like, perfect, sir. She can handle anything. She walks in a room and just by looking at people she can control the situation. She intimidates the hell out of anyone moving. I walk in the room and people don’t even notice me. How can I be a good cop when I don’t have that kind of presence at all?”
He pursed his lips and squinted at her. “Your FTO is Desiree Reilly, right?”
“Yes.”
“You’re right. She’s imposing. She’s a lot bigger than you. She’s gotta be—what?—six, eight inches taller?”
Jaylynn nodded.
“Bad news, Savage. I don’t think you’re gonna grow any taller.” He grinned at her as she gave him a rueful look. “Seriously, you’re never going to work a room like she does. You’re not the strong-arm type, and you look far too sweet to threaten and compel the way she can.”
Jaylynn let out a sigh of defeat and sat down in one of the desks. “That’s what I mean, sir. What am I going to do?”
Slade swung a leg over the desk chair in front of Jaylynn and settled down facing her and the rear of the room, his arms resting on the chair back. “You obviously don’t appreciate that you have something Reilly will never have.”
Startled, she looked at him, her hazel eyes intent. “Sir?”
“Use your own talents, Savage. You have a whole different set of skills, and they’re just as effective as Reilly’s tactics.”
Jaylynn was confused. How could she be as physically imposing, as daunting as her FTO without those same skills?
His brown eyes looked at her sympathetically as he leaned in and tapped her forehead twice with his forefinger. “Use this.”
“But, Sarge, she’s also very smart. She’s got it all.”
At that, a hearty chuckle burst out of Slade. “Savage, it’s so apparent. Hey, you’re totally overlooking the obvious. You’ve got a God-given gift of quick wits and fast talk. Use your head. Use your mouth. You’ll never bully your way out of bad situations. You’re gonna talk your way out. And believe me, you’ll be every bit as effective. You go out on patrol now, and instead of thinking about all the ways you don’t measure up to Reilly—or anyone else for that matter—think about how you can use your own particular style. Be loud. Be flashy. Be yourself. Will you do that for me?”
Jaylynn sat feeling stunned. She felt like a dummy, but at the same time, a bubble of gleefulness rose inside her because what Slade was saying felt exactly right. All her life, what she lacked in stature she always had to make up for in cleverness or perseverance or sheer dint of will. Why would this job be any different?
She rose from the desk smiling. “Thanks, Sarge. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She reached for his wiry hand and when he stood up, she gave him a half-hug, too. “I’ll check in with you every so often.”
“You make sure to do that, Savage.”
She picked up her bag and with a smile headed out the door feeling lighter than she had
for days. She didn’t look back, so she missed the shake of her instructor’s head and the bemused look of respect he cast her way before he gathered up his own things and got ready to leave.
New Year’s Eve was always a hopping night, and Dez figured it would be busy what with everyone on earth wanting to party hardy ’til the dawn rolled in. She had reluctantly offered to let Jaylynn drive and, to her dismay, she’d agreed with excitement. Dez hated riding along, but she also knew Jaylynn needed experience behind the wheel, so she sat in the passenger’s seat, arms crossed, feeling exceedingly crabby.
The first six hours of their shift were spent dealing mostly with drunks: drunks on the street, drunks in bars, and drunken brawlers beating on their wives in their own homes. When dispatch put out the next call—another threatening drunk—Dez snapped a reply at the dispatcher, her temper frayed at the edges from the repetitiveness of the situation.
When they arrived in front of the Castlewalk Bar on University, another unit was already there. Neilsen, the surly rookie from Jaylynn’s class, was getting out of the car with his FTO, Alvarez, with whom Jaylynn had ridden her first observational rotation. Two men stood blocking the doorway to the bar, but both appeared skittish. Another man, a scrawny mope in his late sixties, stood several feet away from the bar door screaming to be let back in. His tan jacket was tattered, and his jeans, greasy with age, drooped on his hips. Dez exploded from the cruiser as Alvarez and Neilsen approached, and the three closed in on the screaming man.
Jaylynn got out of the car, shivering in the cold breeze. She was glad the streets were cleared of snow and ice. Even after five years in Minnesota, she still didn’t like to drive on ice. As she came around the nose of the car and stepped up on the sidewalk, Alvarez said, “Hey there, sir. Can we help you?”
The drunk wheeled around, saw the three huge officers, and fumbled in his jacket. All three cops pulled weapons, but not before the staggering man revealed a dull Bowie knife. He waved it out in front of him as he teetered and lurched. “Get the hell ’way from me. I had ’nough of p’lice brut—brut—you know.” He took another step and shook his head from side to side as though he were dizzy.
All three officers trained their guns on the swaying man. They looked up, startled, when Jaylynn shouted, “Wait! Stop! Yoo-hoo. Hey, Mister!”
This distracted him. He wheeled her way and squinted. Now the four officers formed a box around the drunk who was inebriated beyond the point of fully understanding what was happening. She opened her hands and held them up, palms out. “Sir. No need to be afraid of me. I won’t hurt you.”
“A little girl cop?” he asked. He brandished his knife her way, his back to the other officers.
Jaylynn looked over his shoulder into ice-cold chips of blue and gave Dez the slightest toss of her head. “Mister, I may look little, but I’m the boss of those three right now. Look at them.” He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. “Officers, back up,” she said. “Give this man some room.”
They took two steps back, though Neilsen had to be waved back by Alvarez.
“See?” She smiled at him. “They’ll follow my orders. Now listen. Nobody’s going to hurt you, but you have to give me the knife. Then how ’bout you and I go get a nice nightcap?”
“Say,” the wobbling man said. “You’re kind of cute.”
“Thank you.” She gazed across the sidewalk and smiled at Dez who didn’t seem to be seeing any humor in the situation. Turning her attention back to the man she said, “What’s your name?”
“Denny.”
“I’m Jaylynn. Glad to meet you, Denny.” She stepped close enough to see tendrils of steam coming out of the man’s mouth and wafting around the steel glint of the knife. Her three coworkers tensed and stepped forward. She gave them a stern look. “Well?” she asked. “Is that any way to treat a lady, Denny—waving a knife at me? Is that your style with the girls you date?”
“Oh no, I c’n be a gentleman,” he slurred. “I’ll put it away.”
“I’d like to get a better look at your knife,” she said suggestively.
“You would, huh,” he mumbled, leering at her. “Here.” He turned it in his hand so the handle faced her. She moved one step closer to accept it from him. Before she could take it, her colleagues grabbed him. Neilsen cuffed him and shoved the old coot, who was now screaming, over to his vehicle. Jaylynn picked up the knife from the ground and handed it to Alvarez.
“Nice work, Savage. It’s good to see you doing well.” Alvarez walked toward his car. “See you later when the next drunk call comes in.”
Jaylynn stood near the car, feeling elation flood through her body. Slade was right. Maybe she couldn’t bully her way through a situation, but she could bluff and use bravado with the best of them. She hadn’t felt anger or uncertainty, and she hadn’t been a bit afraid. She reacted, and it felt so natural that every atom in her body was alert and singing throughout the entire altercation. She felt wonderful.
And then Dez grabbed her sleeve and strong-armed her over to their car. She opened the passenger side, gesturing for Jaylynn to get in.
“Hey!” Jaylynn said. “I’m driving.”
In an ominous voice, Dez said, “Not anymore you’re not. Give me the keys.”
Jaylynn took them from her pocket and handed them over, stepping into the car, brow furrowed, and her heart pumping faster now than it had during the confrontation with the drunk.
Dez went around to the other side, and in a whirlwind of motion started the car, threw it into reverse, and squealed away from the curb. Once the car accelerated to the speed limit she said, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Jaylynn turned in her seat and looked at the side of Dez’s face, pale in the moonlight. “Let me get this straight. I just subdued a drunk, and you’re mad about it?”
“No,” she said in tense but measured tones, “but you put yourself at risk.”
“Oh, come on! The three of you would have shot that man to death if he’d made the tiniest move. I’ve never felt so safe in my life.”
“I’m the senior officer. You take orders from me. You don’t tell a crazy drunk you’re in charge unless you are.”
Jaylynn knew she should feel cowed and put in her place, but she didn’t. Instead, a streak of stubbornness rose up in her. “I was in charge. At that particular moment, I was in charge, and my actions were appropriate. We four worked as a team. I never lost sight of him or any of you, and I never compromised anybody’s position, much less my own. Went down by the book.” She twisted in her seat to face forward and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Dez didn’t respond at first. When she did finally speak up, she said, “You’re in training, Savage. There’s still a lot you don’t know.”
“You’re the Field Training Officer, but respectfully, I beg to differ. How exactly do I get any training if all I do is hang back and watch you handle all the calls? How do I gain your trust if I never show you I’m trustworthy?” When she got no response to that, she fired her last parting shot. “Fine. Go ahead and put it in your report to the lieutenant, and I’ll deal with it with him.” She turned away and looked out the window.
Dez lapsed into silence, which was broken only by yet another dispatch for—what else—a fight at a bar. At that call and the remaining few for the night, Jaylynn hung back and let Dez handle everything, taking direction as it came, and following the instructions precisely.
When they returned to the station at the end of Tour III, Jaylynn couldn’t wait to get out of her uniform and go home, but before she could sign out and hit the stairs, Lieutenant Malcolm came around the corner.
“Hey, Savage,” he said. “I hear you did a nice job tonight with some drunken pirate.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the glowering form behind her. “How’d you hear that, sir?”
“Alvarez gave you high praise.” He clapped her on the back. “Good job to both of you,” he said, including Dez in his smile. “Keep up the go
od work.” He started on down the hall, tossing over his shoulder, “Happy New Year, ladies.”
“Happy New Year to you, too, sir.” Jaylynn couldn’t help herself. She gazed pointedly at her FTO, only to find the blue eyes gentle and thoughtful. She cleared her throat, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she stepped past Dez and headed for the stairs.
Dez took a moment to sign out, stopping to think in the hallway before slowly descending the steps. She hated to admit it, but maybe Jaylynn had been right tonight. If Jaylynn were Ryan and the whole thing had gone down the same exact way, wouldn’t she have congratulated him for his quick thinking? Hmmm, so why was it any different with this rookie? One hand on the stair railing, she paused on the last step and thought back to the night’s scene. She closed her eyes and remembered the crisp breeze in her hair, sensed the eyes of two men standing at the tavern door. Knees bent, heart beating madly, she sighted down her arm, over the barrel of her gun, keeping the laughing, hazel eyes in her line of vision.
Fear. She’d been afraid. The man waved the shimmering knife, and he was going to use it on Jaylynn. Some badly dressed loser drunk, stinking of booze and out of his mind, threatened her partner. From somewhere, deep in the far recesses of her memory, a vision of fire, blood, and pain leapt out at her. Not again. I can’t lose a partner again, especially not this one.
An unexpected, intense pain clutched at her chest, and for a moment she thought she might cry. Dez opened her eyes and shook her head vigorously. She decided she must be even more fatigued than usual. Taking the last step down, she walked toward the locker room. This must be about Ryan more than anything. I feel she is under my protection—sort of like I was under his protection and he was under mine. She reached for the locker room door only to have it whip open and away from her.
“Uh—hi,” Jaylynn said. “Sorry.” She opened the door wider and stepped back to allow Dez to pass. She’d already changed into jeans and was wearing a huge, dark brown down coat. She held a pair of brown mittens in one hand.
