by Anne Hagan
I looked back at her, “I hate small talk but I hate awkward silence even more...”
She smiled again. “What would you like to talk about then?”
I shrugged and blew out a breath, “I don’t know. I don’t even know where to begin...”
“How about we just chill out right now and save the heavy stuff for after lunch?” She smiled, “Deal?”
“Deal!”
We spent the next hour enjoying some amazing steaks and talking about silly stuff. Things were actually starting to feel a little bit better for me and to, just maybe, look up.
Chapter 2 – Putnam Hill Park
Early Monday Afternoon, June 9th, 2014
We rolled out of Muddy Misers fatter and happier. I looked at Mel, “Thank you. I really needed that.”
She reached over and took my hand in hers, “I know.”
“We really do need to talk.”
“When you’re ready Dana.”
“I’m ready now but I really don’t want to try to have this conversation with you while you’re driving.”
“No problem.” Mel pulled out of the Misers parking lot and rolled across the street to a little city park. She parked the car within close hobbling distance to a picnic table. I worked my way over to it but, before I could take a seat, she stopped me and pulled me in for a quick hug.
I jerked back and looked around nervously. “Mel, we shouldn’t! The election...”
“Dana, we’ve talked about this. I told you, I’m already serving as the Sheriff. I’m running for the office officially as me, myself and I.” She tapped her chest, “I am in a relationship with an amazing woman and I’m not going to hide that from the voters of Muskingum County because they may be a little squeamish. If they don’t like it, they can vote for Troutman.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the mention of her opponent while at the same time touching her hand to my heart and then she backed off a little and helped me to take a seat.
“I’m sorry. I just...well, my life is all messed up right now and I don’t want to be messing up yours for you too.”
Mel took a seat opposite of me. “You’re not. Now, talk to me babe; tell me what you’re thinking.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slow. “Dr. Welle wants me off work all of this week. I’m to put no weight at all on my left leg. I’m not even to do rehab work.”
“Just a week?” She raised her eyebrows, “That’s not so bad.”
“Oh wait; that’s just the beginning. That’s just time she wants me to be off of work. She sees no rehab for at least a couple of weeks and no weight bearing in my future for eight to twelve weeks and possibly longer.”
“Ouch.”
I shook my head and then looked down at the table.
“I take it there’s more?”
I tried to hold it in but I couldn’t. I started to shake and then to cry and all I wanted to do was stand up and run until I couldn’t run anymore but I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t physically do anything and it was tearing me apart inside.
Mel came around to my side of the table, sat down and wrapped her arms around me. When she leaned her forehead against my face, her slightly spikey black hair tickled my cheek and made me smile through my pain. She isn’t the touchy-feely type so her show of emotional support was both surprising and comforting. I tried to take some strength from her and steel myself to continue our conversation. She pulled back a little and looked at me expectantly.
“Full mobility isn’t in my future,” I said, as tears threatened to fall some more.
“How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that, at minimum, I’m never going to have full knee flexibility and I’ll always walk with a pronounced limp. Beyond that, she doesn’t know at this point. She won’t know until we give the muscles time to heal as far as they’re going to. There may be surgery to repair what doesn’t heal from a muscle perspective but some of the nerve damage is permanent and irreversible.” I took a big gulp of air and ran my hands through my own longish brown hair.
“You’re worried about your job, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not worried because I know I’m going to lose it. I’m just wondering how long I’ll have it at all and what the hell I’m going to do once it’s gone.”
“And you’re positive you wouldn’t be able to continue in your present position?”
“Mel, I work undercover a lot. I can’t do that with a pronounced limp that perps will notice and remember.”
She was quiet for what seemed like an eternity but then she put her hands on my shoulders and said, “Dana listen, I know a desk job with Customs has no appeal for you but losing your special agent position doesn’t have to be the end of the line. There are other ways you can do investigations.”
I shrugged free of her gentle grasp, “How? For who? What agency or organization is going to hire me? I’m not going to be mobile and I’ll stand out like a sore thumb on any sort of mission. I don’t want to sit in a chair and do forensic stuff Mel! I like investigative field work.”
“I know, I know, but think about this; you’ve said before that the travel that your job involves wears on you – that you have no place to call home. Why not do things just a bit less strenuously?”
“How?”
She looked directly into my eyes, “Why not go private? You can base yourself in one place and work from there picking and choosing the assignments that you take so you’re not stuck at a desk all of the time but where you’re not under deep cover chasing gang bangers smuggling dope and heaven knows what all else either.”
“You mean be like a private eye?”
“Well, sort of.”
I started to shake my head no. “Baby, I don’t want to be spying on people’s spouses and...”
“Wait; hear me out. Didn’t you tell me once that you were an MP in the Army?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did you do when you served?”
“We were mobilized for two years out of my four year tour. We did base security and bodyguard type work for generals during the first Gulf War.”
“Did you like that?”
“Yeah, I did. That’s how my whole career path started for me.”
“So when you got out of the Army, what did you do?”
“I went to school and I got into corporate security but...well it’s a long story but I got fired from that job.” I’d only told her a little about my past before going into the Customs Service and becoming a Special Agent.
Mel winced but she didn’t let the admission sidetrack her, “Did you like it?”
“Hell yes. I loved it but I love investigations too.”
She paused and breathed deeply, “Dana, don’t you see? You could be doing both!”
“Again, how?” I held out my hands in exasperation.
“You can hang out your own shingle and do private corporate security and investigations.”
“I...I don’t know Mel. I wouldn’t even know where to start to form my own company...That costs money...Where would I work from...I just don’t know.”
“Well, you have at least a week of sitting at home to do some research and figure it all out. I know you must have contacts from your security days, right?”
I nodded.
“Call HR at customs. Start with them and be very frank. If they tell you something that you don’t want to hear, start shaking some trees and see what falls out. Investigate getting a PI license, even.”
I just stared at her.
“Promise me you’ll at least think about it?”
“Baby, I’m already thinking about it but I still have a couple of problems: money and location. Both of them are deal breakers.”
“Dana a consultant can work out of anywhere...my den, for example.”
“Maybe for the very short term but, long term, I have to find a place to live and a place to work and those two places shouldn’t be the same place.”
“I know our living situation right now isn’t the bes
t but, well I sort of hoped that...” She trailed off and looked lost. It was my turn to console her.
I took her hand and looked into her beautiful brown eyes, “Mel, I never thought I’d say this to another woman after the way my ex treated me but...I love you.” My true feelings for her were finally out there and, rather than feel scared, I felt like a burden had been lifted off of me.
She took a deep breath and smiled. “I love you too.” She pulled me in and held me close and then pulled back and kissed me softly. I wanted to melt into her kiss but I didn’t let her linger too long. I was worried we’d be seen and the implications for her if we were.
“Mel, If you’ll have me, you’re stuck with me. I want us to be together, somehow, some way. Between my situation and the August election though...I don’t know...”
She stopped me, “Actually, I’ve been giving our living arrangements some thought. Before this latest incident with you being kidnapped and battered, we sort of figured you’d be based out of Columbus for a while, right?”
“Yes.”
“Look, I love my sister but a few things are obvious to me; One, we can’t be comfortable being ourselves in a house that we’re sharing with her and her kids. Two, things appear to be getting pretty serious between her and her boyfriend Scott. He’s considering taking a local haul driving job so I’m getting the feeling that he may be looking at taking the next step with her.”
“Wow! Good for Kris if that’s true.”
“Yes, but back to us for a minute; Three, you’re not going to be happy living and working in a den forever. I realize you’re used to temporary apartments and hotel rooms but a 10x10 with a pull out bed probably isn’t getting it for you!” She grinned.
I nodded, “Yeah, it’s getting a little old but I really don’t think you should go making any big life moves right now...not until after the election in August anyway. You should look settled and stable.”
“What do I have to do to convince you that I don’t care about that election when it comes to people’s opinion of my personal life?” She raised her voice and started to say something else when a teenage girl wandering along the walking trail in the park caught her attention.
“Who’s that?” I whispered.
Mel shook her head, “I’m not sure but she looks awfully familiar to me.”
“One of Beth or Cole’s friends, maybe?”
“I don’t think so.” She shuddered. “I just got this weird, spine prickling feeling of déjà vu.”
“Odd. I can’t help you there though.”
After the girl passed, she turned back to me, she shook herself, “Anyway, I was saying that I’ve been thinking and, election be damned, it’s time that I started looking for my own place...our own place - if you’ll have me, that is?”
Chapter 3 – Settling Up
Tuesday, June 10th, 2014
I spent the morning using the desk and phone in Mel’s den to consult with my supervisors and the investigative teams in Columbus and Chicago about my status and the status of the prosecution of the suspects in my prior smuggling case. Minor investigations and discovery were ongoing in the case and there was still agency infighting going on between Customs and the other two federal agencies that had skin in the game.
This case could take a couple of years to resolve...years of me sitting behind a desk like this one if Customs decided that was what’s best to do with me. I don’t want to sit behind a desk – any desk – for two more weeks, let alone two years or more!
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Mel was right; I needed to be frank with HR about my condition and let the chips fall where they might. As it turns out, they didn’t have very far to fall at all.
I was still sitting at Mel’s desk reading through some paperwork the Columbus supervisor had emailed to me when the phone rang. The caller ID said “Restricted.” Not knowing who the caller might be or even if it was for me, I answered the phone tentatively, “Hello?”
“Special Agent Rossi?”
“Yes. Who’s calling please?”
“This is Alvin Royer. I’m the Director of Operations for the Chicago Field Office.”
I know who you are...I may be injured but I haven’t lost my mind! “Yes sir; how can I help you?”
“This is a conference call Agent. The Deputy Director and the Director of HR from the home office are also on the line.”
Oh boy! What the hell? “Yes sir.” Now my voice trembled. Anything HQ gets involved in can’t be good. I hadn’t actually made a call to HR yet. Somebody in the Cleveland Office or the Field Office must have barked up the chain quickly this morning. I drummed my fingers on the desktop nervously.
“Relax Agent, we have some information to present to you and we’d like your input.”
“Okay?” I was confused and concerned and a jumble of other feelings and emotions all at the same time. My thoughts were running a million miles an hour through my head.
“This call is being recorded Agent Rossi. For the record, please state your full legal name.”
“My name is Dana Marie Rossi.”
“Thank you. Director?”
“Agent Rossi, this is Deputy Director Stover.”
“Yes sir?”
“You did a fine piece of work Agent on the smuggling case. Nice job.”
“Thank you sir.” But why are you calling me? This is so not normal!
He continued, “I understand that you were shot in the act of executing a bust on the operation?” He paused but only briefly. I took his question as rhetorical.
“Bullet fragments from your leg were collected during your surgery and analyzed by a national laboratory; were you aware of that?”
“No Director, I was not.”
“Yes, well analysis on the fragments indicates that the round that hit you was from federal issue, agent. You were hit by friendly fire. That never should have happened.”
I snapped back in Mel’s rolling chair, speechless. I had suspected that the shot that hit me that night had come at the hands of either ATF or Secret Service, the other two agencies trying to claim jurisdiction over my bust, but I was powerless to prove it either way.
“Rossi?”
“Yes Director...I’m sorry.”
“ATF denies having agents flanking from outside that night. Their official position is that all of their agents dismounted their single arrival vehicle to the farm bust site at the same time as you and your team or immediately after your team and in the same vicinity of you. What’s your take on that?”
“ATF had one van of multiple personnel that arrived at the bust site within minutes of our arrival there, sir. When my team dismounted we started taking fire from the farm fields out behind the site, across from our approach route. A PA announcement to “Cease Fire” from the ATF van that came in behind us is what stopped the shelling.”
“That’s interesting Agent. I wasn’t aware of the cease fire order. Please, continue.”
“That’s detailed in my report sir however, my impression is that ATF called the cease fire in hopes of protecting their own people who were attempting to dismount their van and raid the barn structure too and not because it was their people out there firing. I believe they had reason to suspect that it was another agency in the field and not representatives of the smuggling ring we were both trying to take down. I just couldn’t prove it.”
“So your unofficial take on that at the time was what Rossi?”
“Again, as detailed in my official report sir, I had two agents staged covertly in the field at the bust site who were taken into custody by Secret Service and brought into the target building handcuffed by a group of four of their agents. It was quite the cluster that night Director, if I may be so blunt, but I strongly believe that it was Secret Service firing on us and on ATF from that field.”
“I did read your report Rossi. I missed the part about the cease fire and I apologize for that. Bullets, shell casings and, where possible, bullet fragments are collected
as a matter of routine when a federal agent is shot in the line of duty. That report of yours is what prompted the Field Office to have the bullet fragments sent for analysis.”
“Yes sir.”
“I’d already made some conclusions about who or what agency fired the shot that hit you after reading your report personally and now the analysis of the bullet fragments has born that out. I wanted to hear the details from you personally. As I suspected, you already knew who shot you.”
“Not who exactly sir; but I do believe that Secret Service is responsible.”
“Yes agent.” His response was a confirmation.
“So what will come of that? Have they admitted responsibility?”
“Director Royer, would you please respond?”
“Agent Rossi, it’s Director Royer again.”
My head was spinning again, “Yes sir?”
“As I told you, the Director of HR is on the call with us as well. I believe you’ve been in touch with HR here at the Chicago Field Office previous to the recent incident that’s done further damage to your injured leg?”
“That’s correct sir.”
“The field office passed your file along to the home office. HR retained medical experts have reviewed the medical records you had authorized to be released to them up to the point before this recent incident not related to your previous case Agent Rossi. It’s the professional opinion of the reviewing surgeon that you’re going to suffer lifetime impairment not withstanding your latest re-injury. Is that your understanding?”
“Ye...yes sir.” His double speak was mind blowing but I got the thrust of the conversation and I didn’t like where it was going.
“The record of your conversation with HR here at the field office shows that you wish to continue doing field agent work; is that correct?”
“Yes director.” Is there a snowballs chance...
Another voice chimed in, “Agent Rossi, this Sarah Evans, Director of HR.”
