by Michael Cole
“As always, let me be clear,” he said. “I expect you all to be prepared for anything and everything, and above all else be safe.” The crew resisted the urge to chuckle. After the formation of the department, the rising crime rate almost instantly decreased back to normal. There were hardly any felonies reported in the past six months. But they knew better than to heckle the chief, especially after considering his mood. “However,” Sydney continued, “I won’t tolerate horseplay in this department. Officer Scott…” All eyes went toward a mustached officer in the front of the room. “…don’t be seeing your lady friend while on duty.” The officer felt himself turn red. The other officers’ instinct would normally be to chuckle, but they knew Sydney wasn’t done.
“Officer Allen, don’t let me catch you sleeping again in the patrol vehicle. Same goes for anyone else. I don’t care how quiet the shift is, you must keep a high degree of awareness.” He paused a moment, resisting the urge to grab his pained leg. During this time, the crew felt a sense of relief, believing the verbal punishment was over. “Officer Marlow…would you like to explain to me the classes you’re taking?” That relief quickly retracted. Marlow felt the blood drain from his face.
“Sir?”
“The classes you’ve been taking at 1230 to 1400 every Monday and Wednesday. Let us know how it’s been going.” Marlow stuttered for a moment. He felt all eyes of the room turn toward him.
“The semester’s over, sir.” When he hired in, he was still taking classes at a community college. One class took place Monday and Wednesday. His shift was Wednesday through Sunday, so the Monday class was not a problem. But Wednesday was a different story. “But the class was very boring.” Sydney burned holes into him from where he stood. Marlow winced, bracing for a verbal bruising in front of the shift. The chief simply shook his head in displeasure. Pathetic, he grumbled to himself.
“Get to work,” he ordered with gruff posture. Without saying a word, the officers stepped from their seats and went to the parking garage where the patrol vehicles were stored. Sydney proceeded down the hall and entered his office, shutting the door behind him. With nobody to bear witness, he fell into his chair, clutching his leg. On this day, any pressure applied to his leg worsened the pain. He was given a cane by his physician and instructed to use it, but personal pride always got in the way. To him, walking with a cane was a sign of defeat—that he was less of a man.
He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out an orange prescription bottle. On the label read Meperidine. Take one every eight hours as needed for pain. Sydney hated taking these meds almost as much as he hated the pain itself. He usually resisted taking them as best he could. Often, they made him extremely drowsy, which worsened his mood. In addition, they would cause dry mouth and general fatigue. Of course, there was the constipation. He dumped one into the palm of his hand and cracked open a water bottle. Before he could take the med, he heard a knock on his door. With a sigh, he rolled the pill back into the container. “Come in,” he said. The door slowly opened, and Officer Marlow slowly poked his head through. He nervously entered the office, almost in fear of getting chewed out some more.
“Hi, Chief,” he said. He looked at the bottle. Sydney didn’t bother to hide it. It was no secret amongst his staff that he was on pain medication. The chief leaned toward his desk computer, giving the impression that he was busy. In truth, he was not. He had a meeting with the mayor in nearly two hours, but other than that, there was nothing to do other than simple administrative duties. Those wouldn’t take too long to do. He figured he’d patrol after that.
“What can I do for you, Officer Marlow?” he said, deliberately sounding disinterested. Marlow shut the door behind him.
“The class was Advanced Business Administration,” he said. Having a moral conscience, he felt the need to explain himself even though the chief already seemed to be done with the subject. “I only had a few weeks to go when you hired me. I still had an exam to go, and a final that was a third of the grade. I just wanted to finish things up.” Sydney didn’t offer a response, making Marlow slightly regret coming in. “I’ll take a deduction for the time I missed,” he offered.
“Any reasonable boss would fire your ass,” Sydney said. “Listen, kid, all you needed to do was ask me. I’m a reasonable guy. Use that brain you have up there.” He pointed at Marlow’s head.
“Yes, sir,” the young officer said. “If I may ask…how’d you know?”
“Are you serious?” Sydney said. “You think I didn’t notice you disappeared at the exact same time every Wednesday?” Marlow bit his lip. It was a logical conclusion. “Did you pass the class?”
“Uh…yes.” He was surprised to hear the genuineness of the question. “I got an A.” He took a seat at the front of Sydney’s desk. “I’m working on going to graduate school. I’d like to become a commander, or a police chief. I’m trying to work my way up.”
“The first step in working your way up is coming to work and staying the whole shift,” Sydney said. He leaned back in his chair. “So, you looking to take my job after I retire?” His tone became less intimidating.
“I don’t know,” Marlow said. “I’m extremely grateful for this position. But I would like to get a position where there is more experience to be had. I’d also like to work in other types of units, like S.W.A.T. or Customs. I guess… I’d like to do the things you did and work my way up.” He hoped he didn’t overstep his bounds by implying he didn’t want to work in RPD permanently. In some work places, that was considered taboo. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case with Sydney, judging by his nonchalant expression.
“You’re saying you want to be like me?” the chief said with a small chuckle. Marlow nodded and smiled. Sydney rolled his chair over to the side of the desk, and slapped his hand on his leg injury. “This is what I got for all of that.” Marlow’s enlightened expression dimmed to one of discouragement. “Trust me, kid, it’s not worth it.”
“I believe it is, sir,” Marlow said before standing up. “I seriously do.” He exited the office. Sydney leaned back, thinking of the conversation he just had. That young ambitious cop reminded him of someone he knew long ago. That person went through the State Police Academy, considered to be the most grueling of any basic training. With a naive desire to make a difference in the world, he worked his way up the ranks. Twenty years and one-hundred and thirteen felony arrests later, it all came to an explosive end with the pull of a trigger. Now he was in command of the only police department that would take him. He felt like he was running a security agency, serving more as a deterrent. To others, the job title sounded like a promotion, but deep down, Sydney felt like he was at the lowest point in his career.
Thinking harder on it, he wondered if he was actually worried he’d live to see Marlow succeed in his goals, and do what he couldn’t.
That’s a mark of a great leader. Berate your staff in front of the others as a means to demand respect, and actually worry young aspiring officers might actually succeed in bettering themselves, he thought to himself.
He looked at the prescription bottle. Only one pill remained inside it, and he had no refills. With nothing much to do for the day, he figured he would patrol near the hospital and check in with the doctor for an updated prescription. He was told he could stop by whenever he wanted. Perks of being the police chief, he guessed. He scooped out the remaining pill and rolled it to the back of his tongue, splashing it down with a gulp of water. Now all he could do was hope that this one wouldn’t make him drowsy. Lord knew the meeting with the mayor was certainly going to have such an effect on him.
CHAPTER
3
It was after 11:00 a.m. when Sydney parked the white and blue emblazoned Chevy Tahoe in the lot of Readfield Hospital. The meeting with Mayor Greene felt like a grand waste of time, most of which was spent going over the same topics as usual. He wanted to know crime stats in the town, as if he still believed it was an issue even though nothing significant had occurred since the
foundation of the police force. Sydney knew Mayor Greene was a good honest man, but very naïve when it came to law enforcement. He insistently brought up the complaints from residents regarding the rumblings coming from Corey Mine, only to act surprised when Sydney informed him there was nothing that could be done about that.
Then Greene brought up the topic of additional police training, which would take place at the County Sheriff’s Department. No doubt this was an idea of Sheriff Logan, who clearly resented the fact that Rodney developed its own police force. From their meetings earlier in the year, it was clear to Sydney that Logan personally despised him, as if somehow he made the sheriff “look bad” when he took the position. Of course, RPD was formed specifically due to neglect in service by the county. Ever since, Logan has looked for ways to one-up the chief. Supervising training exercises for his department was a way of doing just that.
The parking lot was relatively small, with several empty spaces. Readfield Hospital was not a large facility. It had been built exclusively for the small town of Rodney. Shaped like a large rectangle, the building stood three floors high and was not very wide. Near the southeast corner was a helipad, where an emergency transport helicopter rested while not in use.
Readfield Hospital employed roughly two dozen nurses, three ER doctors, an oncologist, a maternity doctor, and of course a hospitalist, in addition to general staff and a chopper pilot. Basically, it was a step higher than a family doctor’s office, which just happened to have an ER, OR, and a morgue.
Sydney entered the front lobby on the west entrance, away from the ER entrance on the south. Three people were seated, waiting for their turn to be seen. At the front of the room was a check-in nurse, wearing navy blue scrubs and her blonde hair tied back. All eyes instantly went to the dark blue police uniform. She recognized him from previous visits.
“Good morning, Chief,” she said. “How may I help you?” Sydney forced a polite smile. The pain in his leg, while dulled by the meds, was still taking a toll on him today. The slight drowsy effect of the medicine was also making his mood worse.
“How’s it going? I’m here to update my prescription.” He placed the empty bottle on the counter. “It expired, and in order to refill it, I had to get a new prescription signed.”
“Okay,” the nurse said. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, uhhh…” He glanced back briefly at the people waiting in the lobby. He leaned in toward the nurse. “Dr. Williams told me just to stop by whenever I had time.” He spoke just above a whisper. Likely the people waiting wouldn’t be too pleased for someone to cut ahead of them, even if he was the police chief. The nurse had a look of awkwardness on her face.
“Oh…I’m sorry, uh…” she said. “Dr. Williams retired.” Sydney felt his eyebrows raise up in surprise.
“No kidding?” he said. “I had no idea.”
“He’d been feeling ill the past few months, and figured he put enough time in. There is a new hospitalist here, though. I’ll page her for you,” the nurse said with a polite smile. She picked up the phone and started to dial an extension.
“I appreciate it,” Sydney said.
“No problem,” she said. “You may take a seat if you like.” The chief didn’t want to, but the pain in his leg dictated that he sit down. He immediately regretted coming in while on duty, seen in his police uniform by the few people in the building. He had intended this to be a quick in-and-out appointment, but now he had to wait like a regular patient. Hopefully, the new doctor would be quick.
********
Dr. Meya Nasr stood over the medical exam table where her patient laid on his back. The patient was a man of forty, complaining of a pain in his lower back and sciatica in his leg. Dr. Nasr had ordered him to lay flat as she lifted his right leg toward the white ceiling to determine range of motion.
“Let me know when it begins to hurt,” she told him, lifting his leg up about ten inches off the table. She raised it up several inches, pausing a few seconds for the patient to register any pain. It was at this moment the page came through the intercom.
“Dr. Nasr, please report to check-in,” the voice said. Of course she couldn’t respond at the moment, nor did she have to. The nurse knew she was in the middle of an examination. It’ll just have to wait. She barely finished the thought when her patient raised his hand.
“Okay, that’s good,” he said in a pained voice. She slowly lowered his leg down. This was the last of a few exercises she was putting him through. She sat on her round wheeled stool and picked up a tan folder containing his file.
“Okay, Greg,” she said, “What I think you have is likely a bulging disc in one of your lumbar vertebrae. I’m gonna order an x-ray for you, and then we’ll be doing a follow-up. Just go to the counter, and the nurse will point you in the right direction. Otherwise, we’ll be in touch.” The patient slowly sat up and got on his feet.
“Thanks, Doc,” he said. She held the door open for him and he left for the lobby. She opened his folder again and jotted down a few notes. Back in medical school, she never imagined she’d prefer the life of a simple country doctor. She was always one who enjoyed being on-the-go, which suited her perfectly as being an ER physician in McLaren Orthopedic Hospital. Each shift was an adrenaline rush, with patients coming in suffering from injuries from car crashes, gun shots, animal attacks, bar brawls, overdoses, and many others. However, the job took its toll. The sight of mutilated corpses of victims, especially children, haunted her at night sometimes. Even worse were the patients whose injuries were so severe, it sometimes felt as if the most humane treatment would be to put them down. On one occasion, during a prison riot, a correctional officer had been thrown into coiled razor ribbon designed to keep the inmates in. Each movement by the officer sliced his flesh, and the only way to remove him was to cut away the section of razor ribbon and transport him to the hospital. When he arrived, the flesh on most of his face had been peeled away, and yet he was forced to remain still to keep it from maiming him further. After nineteen years, she found herself longing for a simpler life. Then, through the help of kind references, a job offer from Readfield Hospital in Rodney, MI came her way. It had some demanding administrative duties, as the position required her to oversee many of the departments in the small hospital, from Cardiology to Pulmonology and most services in between. But it was nothing she couldn’t handle, and being able to leave work at 5:00 every afternoon was a plus.
She finished jotting down her notes when she remembered the page. She stood up and left the exam room, making her way to the waiting lobby.
Hopefully, it’s not some jerk demanding to cut in line.
********
A few quiet minutes passed by as Sydney waited for the new hospitalist to meet with him. He turned his radio down to muffle the blaring radio traffic, although there wasn’t much of that. Usually, someone would radio in a traffic stop or if they were switching from mobile patrol to foot patrol, or vice versa. Other than that there wasn’t much going on. It was a typical day in the town of Rodney.
“Morgan?” he heard his name called. He thought it was the nurse, until he looked up. His eyes went wide when he saw Dr. Meya Nasr standing before him. He didn’t figure the new hospitalist would be the woman he was married to for nine years. But she was recognizable as ever, a five-foot-six woman of Middle Eastern descent, with perfect smooth skin, and black hair that hung in curly waves to her shoulders. Dr. Nasr’s reaction was the same when their eyes met. She had no idea that the police chief was her ex-husband. She wasn’t even aware he had gotten a new job. After the divorce, there had been no communication between the two of them. There were no kids or property binding them together.
There was a moment of stunned silence between the two of them.
“Come with me please.” It was all she could muster to say at this moment. Sydney stood up and followed her to the exam room, managing his limp the best he could. They were in the final stages of divorce when the shooting occurred, and it was t
he first real time she had seen the aftermath of his injury. She had offered assistance in his rehabilitation, but he refused, wanting to finish the proceedings. The papers were signed, and there was no more connection.
They entered the exam room, and she shut the door behind them.
“Well, uhh…you’re looking good,” Sydney said. It was generic, but it was the only thing he could come up with. He wasn’t lying though. She was a physically fit woman of forty-one, and he could instantly tell she was in a happier place…although maybe not in this specific moment.
“I understand you’re here regarding a prescription,” she said. He was somewhat surprised. She spoke to him as a patient, not wasting any time getting to the issue. She gestured for him to take a seat on the exam table while looking at a folder containing his file. He took a seat, feeling the pain in his leg starting to worsen…as it often did in uncomfortable moments. There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence as she looked over his records.
You’d think she’d know most of it by heart, he thought. He figured he’d be polite and try and break the ice.
“So, when did you move over here?”
“I started three weeks ago,” she said without even looking up at him. Finally, she set the folder down. “So the pain in your leg has been getting worse?”
“It’s different each day,” he said. “I’m able to deal. Dr. Williams told me to just drop by whenever I had the chance, and he’d update the prescription.”
“It’s my understanding that Dr. Williams, and the doctor you were seeing before him, instructed you to use a cane,” she said.
“Yeah, but…”
“Why aren’t you using it?”
