by Lori L. Lake
She was proud of Jaylynn’s development, but secretly, she was just as pleased with how Oster had advanced. The young man had gone from bumbling, underconfident, and pudgy to smooth and thoughtful, with an evolving competence earmarking him as the kind of officer who would be steady and effective. He’d been lifting weights, watching his diet, and studying like crazy. She knew these things did not come to him easily as they did for Mahoney or even for Jaylynn, but his hard work and concentration were paying off. She had gone out of her way to encourage him and offer advice whenever possible. She got a good feeling when she took on a mentoring project, especially when some of the other FTOs deemed the recruit a lost cause. A side of her greatly enjoyed being able to say, “I told you so.” When Oster passed probation at the end of the year, she looked forward to saying that to a couple of people, especially Lieutenant Andres.
She grinned when she heard a clatter on the stairs. No mistaking those footsteps. Jaylynn exploded into the room full of energy and excitement.
“Hey, guess what! I’m doing better than I thought.” Jaylynn slid into the chair next to Dez. “The lieutenant says I’m exceeding standards in some areas and making excellent progress. Wow, isn’t that great?” She fixed her hazel eyes on Dez, smiling at her warmly.
Dez couldn’t help but grin back. She nodded. “Congratulations. Six months down, six more to go.”
Jaylynn chattered on about the details of the performance review, all of which Dez already knew since she had written most of the data the lieutenant used to score her. As she half-listened, Dez thought about the training she got when she became an officer nine years earlier. Everything was hit-and-miss, not nearly as organized as it was nowadays. She was lucky to have ridden along periodically with her father when she was young, and then regularly with her father’s best friend, Mac MacArthur, when she was in her teens. She’d attended every Police Officers’ Father/Daughter Banquet with her father, and, after his death, with Mac until she was age twenty-two.
Dez always had the good fortune of being in the company of cops who told her stories and cautionary tales. Before she ever donned the uniform, she already possessed a wealth of anecdotes and information to draw upon. By the time she joined the force, she’d seen the results of people’s poor choices: dead bodies, homeless children, bleeding victims, vandalized schools, a bombed business, and the aftermath of so many brawls that she couldn’t have possibly counted them. Most new recruits were not so lucky as she, and they didn’t know what they were getting into.
She turned her full attention to Jaylynn who was now saying, “Are you ready for this shadow phase?” Dez nodded. “It’ll be hard for you though, won’t it?” Jaylynn smirked at her. “Hanging back, mostly watching, not taking the lead—”
“I’ll manage,” Dez said. For the next three months, they would no longer work so much as a team. Instead, she was to focus on her rookie’s handling of everything while Jaylynn went through the motions as though she were out entirely on her own. Dez’s role was to take notes, evaluate performance, give Jaylynn feedback, and discuss, discuss, discuss. After every shift Dez would have to give a verbal summary of the evening’s events to the sergeant and a weekly written report to Lieutenant Malcolm. As far as she could tell, it would be maddening. But she wasn’t admitting that to Jaylynn.
Once roll call began, it seemed to go on forever and ever, with a great many more reports and updates than usual. Here it is, the second of July, and everybody and their brother is reporting their car stolen. A rash of break-ins and street thefts had happened lately. Despite the improving economy, they still had the same drug dealers and burglars and con artists to deal with. The only good thing is that homicides are down. Now that she thought about it, she didn’t believe Jaylynn had even been to a homicide crime scene yet. That rosy situation couldn’t continue forever, she was sure of that.
The Fourth of July dawned cloudy and cool. Dez awoke later than usual feeling cranky and hungry. Only six weeks remianed until the bodybuilding competition, and she had to admit even she was tired of herself. Trying to sluice off all possible fat cells and get down to lean muscle entailed eating lots of protein and scarcely any carbohydrates other than romaine lettuce, a few fibrous vegetables, and small amounts of brown rice or sweet potatoes. The lack of carbs made her irritable, and she wasn’t sure how she could make it through the next few weeks.
She was glad she was no longer lifting so heavy, but her weight routine still included a full array of exercises—only with lighter weights and higher repetitions. No challenge and very boring. Forty-one days, she thought. I can make it forty-one more days, and then I never have to do this again if I don’t want to.
By the time she reported for duty in mid-afternoon, drizzly rain fell. On account of the weather, the first part of their shift was quiet, but as the evening went on, it stopped raining and the loonies came out in full force. Firecracker complaints, loud parties, drunk drivers, and the never-ending domestic assaults kept them occupied nonstop. Not until nearly ten p.m. did they decide to sign out for a meal break. Dez had already eaten two cold chicken breasts and a protein bar in the car, and now all she needed was a fresh quart of water. Jaylynn, as usual, had her sights set on something Dez couldn’t eat.
“Even though you’re eating healthier stuff,” Dez groused, “I still can’t believe how much you can pack away.” She got out of the passenger’s side and headed toward the 7-Eleven.
Over the top of the car Jaylynn replied, “Hey! It’s a hard job doing all the work out here with you just tagging along to take notes. I have to keep up my strength, don’t I?” She slammed her door shut, straightened her collar, and stepped up on the sidewalk. “I don’t think an ice cream snack will kill me.”
“Yeah, but I’m stuck sitting here watching you eat it and hearing all those happy noises you make.”
Jaylynn grinned. “You could join me, you know.”
Dez pushed open the 7-Eleven door as she glanced back, exasperated. “Jay! You know I can’t. Don’t torture me.”
Dez took two steps into the convenience store, her eyes scanning for the dairy case, before she noticed the clerk and saw his frightened face. Standing with him at the checkout counter, profile to them, was a perilously thin black man clad in a pink T-shirt and baggy black shorts. Dez stopped abruptly, and Jaylynn bumped into her as the man turned. Dez saw the gun swing her way and she reached for her Glock. Her ears filled with a roar as her chest absorbed a blow like nothing she’d ever felt before. She stumbled back. Sliding sideways against Jaylynn, she tried desperately to stay on her feet. Before she even hit the ground, she heard another roar. The man in pink clutched his chest, then crumpled to the ground. She felt a blow to the back of her head, and everything went white.
Dez couldn’t breathe. Her lungs ached. A buzzing in her ears wouldn’t stop, and a lightheaded floating feeling came over her. The world seemed to tilt sideways and out of focus. She tried to keep her eyes open, but the tears streaming from them burned and blurred her vision. She pinched her eyes shut.
Dez opened her eyes. Lying flat in the open air, she was as cold and bone weary as she had ever felt. She lay on her back, staring into the night sky, waiting for her vision to clear. Placing her palms down, near her sides, she let her fingers move about until she identified the crunchy things below her as leaves. She was lying in a flowerbed.
She tried to sit up, but a stab of pain shot through her rib cage. She raised her hands, crossed them over her chest and closed her eyes. Barely breathing, she squeezed her eyes shut tight and lay still until the wave of pain passed.
Once she could choke in air again, she began to relax and listen. Above her, sounds wafted down. It took a moment for her to understand she was hearing a persistent, high-pitched call for help punctuated with screaming and slapping sounds.
I have no idea where I am or why I’m here, but someone is in trouble. She turned her head to the side and moved as if to sit up, and once again, the explosion of pain blasted through
her, leaving her weak and with tears in her eyes. To her right was a wall. She reached out to touch the uneven stucco surface. Angling her neck around, she saw she rested right next to a light-colored house. With great effort, she rolled onto her side. Keeping her hand on the rugged wall, she forced herself to her knees. She ignored the pain as she got one foot up and flat on the ground, then rose unsteadily to stand swaying next to the house.
Far away, she heard a woman calling her name. “Dez!” The hauntingly familiar voice was cut short by slapping sounds. She staggered out of the flowerbed and onto the cement walk next to the house. From an open window above her head, she saw the flapping of a ripped screen, and again, a shriek rang out, which was muffled, and suddenly the night air was silent.
“Hang on! Hold it together, Jay,” she tried to shout, but only a hoarse croak came out. She stopped and took a deep breath, reached upwards with her right arm, feeling a nearly unbearable pain shoot through her chest. With a strong hand, she grabbed the windowsill, but no way could she could pull herself up, no way to get up and through the window. Panting, she limped down the walk and to the front stairs. She didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to drag herself up the steps to the door, only to find it locked. Wheezing and barely able to keep her eyes open, she made her way around the house, trying every door and checking each window.
No luck. She stood on the side of the house where she’d started and felt tears of frustration leak out. “Help me! Somebody help,” she whispered in a panic. “Something bad has happened to her. Help me!”
She could no longer stay on her feet. As she hit the ground, she felt the breath knocked out of her, and her vision grew fuzzy again. Gasping in short breaths, everything spun around her, and in a moment, she was out.
Ears ringing from the report of her gun, Jaylynn scrambled out from under the deadened weight that had fallen partly against her. Her heart screamed out to Dez, but she forced herself not to look, to focus instead on what had been drilled into her over and over: halt the imminent risk, then render first aid.
Crouching, her gun held level, she moved quickly to stand over the shooter. He lay on the floor panting and twitching, a forty-five-caliber gun near his hand. She put her foot on the barrel of the weapon and eased it away from him, kicking it behind her and under the candy bar display case.
“Oh my God,” the clerk yelled repeatedly. He stood behind the cash register, clutching the counter with shaky hands. Jaylynn nodded toward him in a daze, then bent over to fasten a handcuff to the shooter’s hand. She rolled him to his side. He cried out in pain, but she clicked the cuff on his other hand anyway. Touching her shoulder mic, she put out the call for help. “Officer down.” In a mechanical voice she answered the questions dispatch asked and listened to their assurances that help was on the way.
Only then did she holster her gun. She paused for the briefest second, afraid to look, her heart pounding so hard she thought she was having a heart attack. She spun shakily, and in two steps landed on her knees next to the wheezing woman.
“Dez!” she shouted. Frantically she ripped open the pierced blue shirt, popping buttons every which way. She saw the exploded hole in the vest and felt the flat lump of hot metal imbedded there. Struggling to loosen the gray vest was awkward, but with a grim look of determination, she undid the Velcro and tugged up the white T-shirt underneath to reveal the smooth alabaster skin and the terrible mark on the right rib just below the pale breast.
She smoothed the T-shirt down. “You’re going to be okay, Dez. It’s okay.” Jaylynn swung her legs around in front of her, sat back, and leaned against the checkout counter. She splayed her legs out and leaned forward to drag Dez’s upper body, face up, into her lap. Dez stared at her, eyes glazed. “Dez, can you hear me? Your vest caught it. The bullet didn’t penetrate.”
“Help . . . me. Somebody help,” she whispered. “Something . . . bad has happened. Help.”
“Shhh,” Jaylynn said. “Lie still. You’ll be okay.” She brushed the hair out of Dez’s face and held her gently, trying not to squeeze too tight.
She closed her eyes and let out a groan. “It hurts.”
“I know, I know.” Jaylynn leaned over her and made soothing noises. “Don’t worry. Help is on the way.”
Dez’s eyes popped open. Without blinking, she focused in on her partner’s face. “Jay . . . Jay. The shooter. What about—”
“He’s down.”
Dez sighed and squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again. “Are . . . you sure?”
“Yeah. I shot him. He’s down and cuffed. Stop worrying. You’re safe now.”
A flash of light exploded in Jaylynn’s face. She blinked and squinted. The clerk stood over her ready to take another photo with an orange disposable camera.
“Stop!” she shouted. Click-flash. Click-flash. “You are dead meat, mister,” she said in her sternest voice. He paid no attention, instead moving down the aisle to capture another angle. When it was clear he wasn’t listening, she turned her face away and held her partner closer to her. The man moved over to take shots of the shooter in the pink shirt who lay bleeding on the floor. Jaylynn was grateful for the sound of the sirens approaching.
A low moan escaped. In a strangled voice Dez said, “Ow. Shit, this hurts.”
“It’s all right,” Jaylynn soothed. “You’re okay. I gotcha.”
Dez looked up into the worried face, so close to hers, and the words tumbled out in a choked whisper, “I . . . love you . . . Jay.”
“I know. Shhh—don’t talk now. Save your strength.” Jay cradled her gently, oblivious to the clerk’s continued photographic antics. She pressed her face in the dark hair, feeling tears rising and not being able to control them.
“Hey.” Dez’s voice was raspy as her unsteady hand came toward Jaylynn’s face. “Cops . . . don’t . . . cry. Remember?” She tried to wipe away the tears, but Jay moved her head aside and swept her face clean with her own sleeve. Dez’s large hand slid down the front of her partner’s uniform shirt, and Jaylynn grasped it, hugging it close to her heart, watching as her partner’s eyes squeezed shut in pain.
“I’m so sorry, Dez.”
Through gritted teeth, she said, “Thought you said I’m okay.”
“Yeah, you are—”
Cop cars screeched into the parking lot. One. Two. Three. Jay could now see four through the front glass door. Her brothers in blue, armed and dangerous, descended upon her and calmly took charge. She was mildly amused to see Cooper and Braswell in the door first. Pudgy Braswell, red-faced and sweating, went down on one knee before them.
Jaylynn said, “Her vest caught it.”
He nodded. “Good. Reilly, honey, you’re gonna be all right. We’ll get you outta here.”
“Don’t call me . . . honey . . . Braswell,” Dez choked out, “or I’ll . . . rip your testicles off.”
“Atta girl, Reilly.” He patted Jaylynn’s knee. “She’ll be fine, Savage. The EMTs will be here any second. Just hang on.” He grunted as he struggled to his feet, then pulled his belt up over his prodigious gut. By then, a string of eight more cops had come into the store, stopping to check on Dez.
Braswell stood over Dez and Jaylynn and in his gravelly voice kept saying, “Vest took it. She’s okay.” The clerk was off to one side gesturing and talking loudly, trying to explain what had happened.
Jaylynn closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the counter. She continued to hold Dez’s, her head cradled in Jaylynn’s left arm and her body lying face up in the V of her legs. She opened her eyes and watched her fellow officers as they secured the scene and escorted two sets of paramedics in the door, one set for each injured party. Reluctantly she relinquished her hold on her partner and then, embarrassed, stood and joined her fellow officers. She jumped when she unexpectedly felt a warm hand grab hold of her fingers, and she looked to the side to find Oster, his eyes brimming with held-back tears. He wouldn’t look at her, but he didn’t let go of her hand as they watched th
e EMTs prepare to load Dez on the stretcher.
After Dez was wheeled through the 7-Eleven door, she took a deep breath. “Who’s the responding officer? You, Braswell?”
“Yeah, me and Cooper. Let’s get your initial statement now while it’s fresh in your mind. Then you can take the squad car over to the hospital to check on her.” He cleared his throat. “One more thing: department policy. You need to give me your weapon.”
She nodded in understanding and unholstered the gun to hand it to him. Cooper opened a plastic bag and Braswell placed it inside. They waited while Cooper labeled the bag.
None of the cops noticed the young clerk tucking an orange box into his shirt pocket.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Dez spent the better part of the night in the ER, which meant Jaylynn spent it in the waiting room. Cops came and went as the night went on. The Police Chief appeared, stomping through the waiting area in jeans and a lightweight T-shirt, her face a pale mask. Jaylynn met her eyes, but the grim-faced chief merely nodded and swept by. Four medical personnel in blue scrubs appeared, took the chief off into a side room and shut the door.
Cowboy came tumbling in, sleep in his eyes and without his customary off-duty cowboy boots. “I came as quick as I could. Oster called me. Is she okay?” He stood awkwardly until Jaylynn rose, nodding, and engulfed her in a hug. “Thank God,” he said. “I couldn’t go through that again.” Wordlessly she let him hold her, feeling the solidness of his back and torso, and then she led him to the too-soft waiting room chairs and told him what happened. She never even noticed when the Chief departed through the automatic glass doors.
