by Lori L. Lake
In a tight, controlled voice, Jaylynn said, “It’s good to know I wasn’t a total failure.”
“Listen now, you’re taking this too seriously. Everybody goes through the same thing.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s not talk about it anymore. But you can’t stop me from going to the hospital to check up on her tomorrow.”
“Geez! I’m not an ogre, for God’s sake.” Dez hit her turn signal and took the next corner fast enough to cause the tires to squeal. “Listen to me. You act like you think I don’t care. Well, I do. But we’ve got a job to do tonight. As soon as we’re off duty it’s okay if we go back to being human beings.”
“It doesn’t seem right not to be a human being on the job!”
Dez didn’t answer. She remembered feeling much the same way when she first started, but unlike Jaylynn, she was able to mask her emotions much easier. “You wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“So?” Jaylynn asked accusingly. “Tell me exactly what is wrong with that?”
Dez didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t figure out any other way to phrase what she believed without being blunt and offending Jaylynn. She thought about the fact that most of the job was all about control, about exercising power responsibly, about keeping a tight rein on all emotions: anger, sadness, fear, even happiness. Emotions could be used against you. Neutrality and distance—those were the goals, neither of which her trainee possessed. Dez believed Jaylynn would impulsively jump into any situation, emotions charged, and running ninety miles an hour. She didn’t know if she could train her out of that response. As her FTO, she had to somehow succeed, though, or Jaylynn’s days as a cop would be numbered.
Dez rolled down the car window and let in a blast of chilly air. Reaching over to the dash, she cranked the dispatch radio one notch. After a moment, she clicked on the side lamp and double-checked the vehicle hot sheet. Finally she asked, “What time are you visiting that girl?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Are you saying you would go, too?”
“Sure. If it makes you feel better. But we’d have to go awful damn early. I bet they’ll only keep her overnight and send her home first thing in the morning. Tell you what. You hit the sack right after shift. I’ll come by and get you at nine.”
“All right.”
Dez could tell Jaylynn was still unsettled, but she could think of nothing more to do or say. She knew these kinds of things would either make or break a young recruit. She hoped Jaylynn would persevere. She remembered her first rape call vividly. She had been in training with a male officer, Mickey Martin, who was more at a loss than she. He expected her to take care of everything having to do with the woman—and she only had the book training on what to say, what to do. It was made worse by the fact that the woman was beaten half to death, but conscious, crying, and angry. Dez was stunned and sickened by the physical violence visited upon her.
She looked out the window, her eyes constantly surveying the dark streets. She didn’t guess she’d done much better helping Jaylynn through her first sexual assault call than Mickey Martin had done for her.
Jaylynn didn’t feel well at all once she got home after the rape call. Her head hurt and her stomach was queasy. She desperately wanted to talk about what had happened, but Tim wasn’t home, and Sara was just starting to get back to normal after the events of last summer. She knew if she tried to talk about the young girl, Kristy, then Sara would have nightmares. So she put on her best face and tried to act like everything was fine.
As soon as she entered the kitchen, though, Sara said, “Hey there, Jay.” She smiled at her friend and did a double take. “Whoa! Bad night or what?”
Jaylynn shook her head. How did she always know? She was thankful Sara only read faces, not minds. “Just a long night.” She slipped out of her jacket and hung it on the back of the wooden nook chair, then sat down across from Sara, who was eating buttered toast and drinking tea while studying.
“Tea water is still hot.”
“Okay.” Jaylynn moved about the kitchen getting a spoon, mug, tea bag, and some hot water. She set the full mug down carefully on the table and returned to her chair.
“Want to talk about it?”
Jaylynn put her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. It occurred to her that she didn’t feel terrible only for the poor young girl but also for herself. “This is a hard job sometimes. I like being able to help people and to sort out disagreements, maybe protect kids and old people. But some really bad stuff happens.” She put her head in her hand and gazed into the warm depths of the sympathetic brown eyes across the table.
“You didn’t see your first murder victim today, did you?”
“No. In a way I’m more prepared for that than for the daily indignities we come across. People can be so mean, so cruel to each other. It hurts my heart.”
“I don’t know if I would want your job, Jay. I think I would find it depressing.”
Jaylynn took a sip of the hot tea, relieved when it warmed her stomach and instantly relaxed the tightness in her abdomen. “Most of the time it’s not so depressing. I’m starting to get to know shopkeepers and restaurant patrons and regulars at the bars. People are starting to remember me, too. Everybody knows Dez. I think most of the people we come across every day aren’t all that bad, maybe just stupid idiots and petty crooks or people desperate for money—but not like murderers and rapists. I guess I can handle stupidity or bad decision-making, but calculated cruelty always gets to me.”
Sara listened intently, as she always did, and Jaylynn couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratefulness wash over her. She reached across the table and patted Sara’s hand. “Thank you for always listening.”
“At least someone in the househ
old has an interesting life,” her roommate replied dryly.
Jaylynn tipped her head to the side. “How much time ’til Billy Boy comes back?”
“A very, very long time from now. Looks like no sooner than October.”
“I thought you had it down to the exact days, hours, minutes.”
“I had to stop thinking of it that way. It was driving me crazy.” Sara looked at her watch. “With any luck, he should call in about an hour.”
“I wish you could fly over to Germany and visit him.”
Sara shook her head. “It won’t work. I’d like to, but I can’t.”
“Look at the bright side—he’s done after October, and then you can get married.”
“Believe me, I can’t wait.”
Jaylynn took a final swig of her tea and rose. “I need to finish writing Auntie Lynn a letter, and I have to get up early tomorrow, so I’d better head upstairs.”
“ ’Night, Jay.”
“Sleep well, my friend.”
CHAPTER TEN
Jaylynn sat quietly in the police cruiser, her eyes watching the nightlife intently as she thought about things. She felt tired, mostly from sleeping poorly and then getting up so early to go to the hospital. She was glad she and Dez had gone to see the girl. Kristy South’s overwhelming helplessness from the night before had changed, overnight, to rage, and Jaylynn encouraged her to be mad as hell at the man who raped her. Dez stood in the doorway and talked awkwardly with the girl’s father, a portly, bald fellow with a constant look of stunned disbelief on his face. The mother and father were anxious about Kristy being released, and Jaylynn tried to reassure them that it always took the hospital more time than expected. She wrote her work voicemail number on a generic Saint Paul Police Department business card and told the teenager to call her if she ever needed to talk.
Jaylynn wished she had gone home and taken a nap, but instead, she cleaned house, made a casserole, and did laundry. The next thing she knew, it was half past two and time to head to the station.
Now she sat in the chilly squad car and watched Dez out of the corner of her eye. She often marveled at how Dez’s eyes rarely stopped scanning. Any time Dez stopped scrutinizing the wor
ld around her and let her eyes come to rest on Jaylynn, her stomach got butterflies. She was grateful she didn’t look at her all that often.
Dez turned a corner and rolled past the neon-lit street corner where they saw a dark-haired woman standing in front of a smoke shop. Tall and razor-thin, she was unseasonably dressed in a red mini-skirt, fringed halter top, and spangly red spike heels.
“Must be cold, huh?” Dez asked. “Last I checked the temp was only thirty-eight degrees.”
Jaylynn shivered. Even with the heat on in the car, she continued to feel the cold much more acutely than Dez.
Dez rounded the next corner. “I think we’ll go around and check on Miss Thing one more time.”
As they approached again, the hooker leaned into the window of a big white Pontiac. Dez flicked the overhead lights on and off. The driver of the white car suddenly floored it and took off down the street, nearly knocking the prostitute off her feet. She stumbled back on the sidewalk, pushed her skirt down with one hand, and proceeded to give the officers the finger. Dez eased the car up next to her and Jaylynn rolled down her window.
“You’d best go home, ma’am,” Jaylynn said.
In a slurred voice, the hooker said, “Well, fuck you! He was a friend of mine.”
Dez leaned over toward the passenger side. “Yeah right. We’ve heard that one before.”
Jaylynn saw the hooker was much older than she looked from the distance. Despite her long, lanky figure, her face was tired and overly made-up.
“Ruined my night, you stupid bitches, can’t get any yourself—” Without warning, she spat at Jaylynn, catching her in the face.
“Oooh, gross!” Jaylynn winced in disgust as she wiped her cheek on her jacket sleeve.
Dez was out of the car before the prostitute knew what was happening. She grabbed hold of the scowling woman and locked her arm behind her back. She forced her two steps back to the wall of the smoke shop and pressed the woman facefirst into the brick.
The hooker let out a shriek. “Let me go, you bitch!”
“Is that any way to show respect for a police officer?”
“Fuck you,” she said, hissing like a cat. She squirmed and tried to kick her in the shins. Dez moved up close and anchored her firmly in place by pressing one knee between the woman’s legs and against the wall. It also prevented her from being stilettoed by the pointy high-heels.
“You just earned yourself a fun trip down to the station, lady.” The weight of the angry hooker sagged against Dez.
Once Jaylynn wiped her face satisfactorily, she got out of the car, flipping her handcuffs off her belt. “Do we really want to run her in, Dez?”
Before she could reply, Dez shouted, “Oh, shit!”
Jaylynn pulled her weapon and held it steady on the woman.
“No, no,” Dez said with a disgusted expression on her face. “She just peed on my leg.” Dez released her and stepped back only to see her stumble. Snatching at the fringe of her halter top with blood red fingernails, she gave them both a vacant-eyed look and slumped back against the brick wall, barely keeping her footing in the high heels.
“She’s stoned,” Jaylynn said, as she holstered her weapon.
“I’ll say.” Dez looked down at the thigh of her uniform slacks. A dark wet spot had spread all the way down to mid-calf.
“And you’re starting to smell.” Jaylynn tried to suppress a giggle as she pointed at the dark, steaming stain. Dez shot her a glare and stomped over to the squad car to call for an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived, the prostitute was alert and feisty, cursing and threatening as before. They had to strap her down on a gurney to take her away.
“Now that’s a first. No adult has ever peed on me before.” She opened the trunk of the car and searched around until she came up with a ratty olive colored Army T-shirt. “I don’t know whose this is, but it’s mine now. Get in and let’s go.” She put the T-shirt on the front seat of the car and sat on it.
“You’re riding around for,” Jaylynn looked at her watch, “three more hours in that stench?”
“Hell, no.” She turned on the car lights and hit the gas. “I’m going home to change.”
“Why don’t you go back to the station?”
“Haven’t got any slacks there.”
As they neared Dez’s neighborhood, she asked Jaylynn to call dispatch to sign out for a break.
Jaylynn had never been to Dez’s house and wondered what it would be like. She didn’t expect the neat, two-story stucco house they stopped in front of. Dez got out in a hurry. “Come on. You can come up and wash your face.” She slammed the door and stalked away from the car.
Jaylynn followed Dez around to the back of the house and waited for her to unlock the door. They entered a hallway with a door straight ahead and a staircase on the right. Dez took the stairs two at a time. On the landing at the top, she watched as Dez navigated the low ceiling with practiced ease. The staircase and landing were tucked in the eaves, so even Jaylynn had to duck her head.
Dez unlocked a door, flipped a light switch, and stepped aside to let Jaylynn into a tiny kitchen, about twelve-by-ten feet square. The dinette table was just inside the door with a small CD player sitting on the side against the wall. To the left were a small closet, a refrigerator, a short counter containing a microwave with cupboards overhead, and a sink under a small window, which was hardly bigger than a porthole. Across the room were more cupboards and a counter. A doorway to the right, straight across from the entry door, led into another room. Jaylynn looked around the kitchen and admired its compactness, so opposite of its owner. The vinyl flooring was pale blue and tan, the cupboards shiny light oak, and the counters navy blue. Everything looked new and clean, the only thing out of place being a cereal bowl and spoon on the sideboard next to the sink.
Dez tossed her keys on the table, removed her jacket, and hung it over one of the dinette chairs. Jaylynn did the same and followed Dez through the doorway into another room not much deeper than the kitchen, but three times longer. Taking up the left half of the room was a double bed, two dressers, a valet chair, a wardrobe closet, and a small bedside table. On the wall beyond the foot of the bed sat a roll-top desk, closed up tight. Over the bed was another window similar to the one in the kitchen, though slightly bigger. In the right half of the room on the far wall were floor-to-ceiling shelves with a couch sitting not four feet in front of them. A low-slung coffee table sat parallel in front of the couch.
Across the room on the opposite wall sat an entertainment system, and next to it on two metal stands were two guitars. One was a warm golden color steel-stringed acoustic, the other a shiny red electric model with silver thunderbolts on the front. Beyond the guitar stands to Jaylynn’s right was another door. Dez pointed to it. “Bathroom’s right through there. Grab any towel you want and throw it in the hamper when you’re done.”
Jaylynn went in and shut the door. At least the bathroom was roomy. On the right, the tub/shower was extra long and extra wide and included a whirlpool. She thought someone must have laid some cash out for that. The beige toilet and sink matched the tub, and the blue and tan floor matched the kitchen floor. An open-front oak cabinet was filled with neatly folded towels, sheets, and washcloths. Next to it sat a narrow bureau, which was topped with a tray holding various colognes, deodorant, and spray bottles. Another of the porthole windows, much larger than the others in the kitchen and bedroom, let in light from the streetlamp.
Jaylynn knew they didn’t have a lot of time, so she grabbed a royal blue towel, washed her hands and face, and dried off quickly, tossing the towel into the wooden hamper as she left. Dez rose from the couch, barefoot, and wearing a red terry cloth robe. She picked up her uniform slacks and held them at a distance. “Yuck.”
“You’re not showering, are you?”
“You bet I am. I’m not spending the rest of the shift in this.” Dez paused in the bathroom doorway. “Make yourself comfortable. There’s iced tea in the fridge, and you can tu
rn on the TV if you want. Time me. It’ll take me less than ten minutes.”
Jaylynn went into the kitchen and opened the first cupboard to the right of the sink. Bingo. Glasses galore. She took one, opened the fridge, and poured herself some iced tea. She took note of the contents of the refrigerator: a door-full of condiments, milk, orange juice, a plate of leftover roasted chicken breasts, and tons of fruits and vegetables. Not a can of pop in sight and no greasy snacks. Doesn’t this woman eat anything sinfully delicious? Where’s the butter? The cheese? There aren’t even any eggs in there—just those little containers of liquid egg whites. She smacked the door shut and headed back into the other room and sat on the couch to marvel at Dez’s tiny home.
The entire L-shaped apartment was tucked into the eaves of the house, and she bet the whole unit wasn’t more than seven hundred square feet. There were closets and drawers built into the eaves and probably a lot more storage than appeared at first glance. Somehow she would have pegged Dez to live in a large rambling place with a couple of big dogs, or at least a cat or two. She guessed she would have to revise her assumptions. Though small, the apartment was cozy and warm, and Jaylynn liked the solid blues, maroons, greens, and tan accents throughout the room. The double bed’s headboard was dark mahogany, which contrasted nicely with the navy blue and forest green comforter. A matching quilt adorned the back of the wide couch. At the foot of the bed lay another quilt, this one maroon and blue, with a freshly pressed pair of slacks tossed partly over it. Dez’s vest and other clothes were piled on the valet chair near the closet.
She looked past the foot of the bed at the roll-top desk and resisted the urge to go over and investigate. She wondered if she would find all the clutter of a lifetime packed in there? Or would each of the little cubbyholes be as neat and tidy as the rest of the apartment? She wondered if Dez had a computer. She certainly didn’t seem to live a very high-tech life.
