“Sick leave? But Thompson’s never sick!”
“Broke a leg,” he clarified. “Slipped in the shower right in the middle of budget cutbacks, too… For the next few weeks, you’ll be reporting directly to Lieutenant Crabbe.”
He added with a wink: “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you, sir,” I nodded politely, turning towards the opaque glass that marked the Lieutenant’s office in the back of the room.
I’d only encountered the man a few times, and none of those instances had been what I’d call pleasant. The Sergeants usually positioned themselves between him and us for a reason that rose above simple matters of hierarchy.
A shiver went down my spine. This morning was not getting off to a good start.
“And, by the way?” The Sergeant smiled, extending his hand. “Congratulations on the promotion. You deserved it.”
“Much obliged, Sergeant,” I smiled, shaking his hand. “If you’ll excuse me…”
“Carry on,” he nodded.
Holding my chin high, I crossed between cubicles towards Lieutenant Crabbe’s office. Each step forward sent an uncharacteristic impulse to my brain:
Turn back. Turn back. Turn back.
No, I thought to myself. I’ve come this far. I’m going to make my father proud and no asshole Lieutenant is going to stop me.
I knocked on the door, and heard an ambiguous grumble from inside. Unsure how to proceed, I hesitated for a moment before giving another brief, louder knock.
“I said ‘COME IN!’”
Great.
As I let myself into the room, Lieutenant Crabbe was perched behind his desk, twiddling his finger to indicate that I close the door.
The Lieutenant was a slovenly man: obese, sweaty, and perpetually fueled by anger that bordered on hellfire. His shitty attitude and unsightly physique was tolerated because he had an unblemished record of producing results, but his penchant for coming down hard on his subordinates was legendary on the force.
“I didn’t ask, Jones!” He shouted down the desk phone that was jammed against his ear, his thick, Cheetos-stained fingers wrapped around it like undercooked sausages. “I said do it! I don’t care how long your men have to stake out that fucking bowling alley, you do it and you do it with a fucking smile! Do you hear me?!”
Without waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down on the receiver, wiping his fingers off under his chair.
I hid my revulsion.
“So… Detective…” Crabbe muttered, gazing at me with his beady little eyes. Apparently, he’d already made an assessment, because those eyes were filled with contempt. “Out of the kiddie pool, eh? How’s it feel to be at the big kid’s table?”
I was taken aback, but thought quickly.
“This promotion is everything that I wanted, sir. I’m willing to put in whatever’s necessary to–”
“Don’t bother, Detective,” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. I heard it audibly strain beneath his weight. “Your boss says you’ve got the chops. Says your record speaks for itself. He doesn’t fuck up often, so I’m inclined to believe him… for now. I know that you’ve earned your spot here. Don’t piss me off by trying to butter me up.”
From the looks of it the only thing he needed buttered was a thick basket of greasy rolls sitting at the edge of his desk.
“That said, everything that landed you in that chair in front of me? It’s in the past. I couldn’t give a flying fuck about your previous work ethic. This little promotion of yours? It’s a clean fucking slate. You’re back to square one, but now you’re on a higher rung, you understand?”
I nodded respectfully.
“Good. Glad you’re hearin’ what I’m sayin’,” he grunted, shuffling a few papers around on his desk. “With that said, I looked into you. Work ethic notwithstanding, I don’t appreciate having some snot-nosed little sheriff’s daughter shoved onto my plate.”
And there it was.
It was always one reason or the other: the suggested nepotism, or the gender implication. Apparently, my temporary boss was one of the bigger misogynistic fuckers on the force, but went ahead and just struck for both sides anyway.
“You wanted this so bad?” The lieutenant grunted. “You’ve got it. Now keep it up, or else I’ll have you back out there scribbling out parking tickets so fast it’ll make your head fucking spin.”
“I understand, sir.” I chose my words carefully: “I’m not asking for your respect… I’m willing to earn it.”
He took a cold, hard look at me, but I didn’t waver in my conviction. After a moment, he finally nodded, apparently satisfied.
“That’s what I like to hear.”
He pulled open a drawer beneath his desk. Before I could pat myself on the back for learning the first steps in playing the game, he was tossing a thick folder in front of me.
“What the hell is this?” I asked.
“Your first case, Detective,” he answered with a gravelly grunt. “Missing persons. Let me know if this rings a bell: three cheerleaders disappear from a football game in Tucson.”
I inwardly groaned.
“Of course I know this case,” I answered.
It had been national news for months. Three pretty teenage girls vanish from pleasant little suburbia, and the whole country goes crazy. The department had tied up resources for almost a hundred days on this thing, bearing the brunt of media scrutiny.
Every loose end had been a dead end. They had vanished without a trace.
“We’ve thrown everything we’ve got at this thing, but nothing came up green. I can’t spare that kind of manpower anymore, but we can’t walk away from this either. You want to earn my respect, Detective?” He sneered. “I’ll make it easier for you than most. Find these girls.”
While he spoke, I flipped through the folder. My eyes glanced across the mountain of evidence: credit card statements, eyewitness interviews, phone records, last known locations, mapped out sheets of friends and family – and then, something I would have never expected…
It was simple, really. I’d spotted a photo: a man beside his motorcycle. The Lieutenant’s words drowned out as I realized what I was looking at… The lines on his face had hardened and his leather cut was looking battle-worn.
Hunter.
My breath caught in my throat as I pulled the photograph from the sleeve sheet. Absentmindedly, my fingertips ran along his face, bringing back feelings long since buried.
Flipping it over, I spotted an inscription on the backside: the words Devil’s Dragons, El Paso, with the current year.
“What’s the matter, Detective?” Lieutenant Crabbe chuckled. “Got a thing for bad boys?”
I glanced at him with a smile that wiped the snide comment from his collection of chins. “I enjoy putting them behind bars. Don’t you worry, sir. I’ll find these girls.”
His expression turned stern as he leaned forward in his chair, groaning beneath his weight.
“I don’t want you working on anything else, Detective. This is your primary focus until we know what happened. I want you to eat, drink, shit, and piss this case, understand? Get us a new lead on this thing and I’ll provide whatever resources you need to see the investigation through.”
His jaw set as he summed me up once more: “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes sir,” I smiled confidently.
“Very good,” my superior replied, still unsure what to do with my change in demeanor. “Now that you grasp what is expected of you … leave my sight and get your ass to Tucson immediately.”
I rose, shaking his hand, and closed the door behind myself. I passed by my
new office; I hadn’t even taken the time to get settled into the room, electing to go straight for my Sergeant. All I’d done is placed my box of belongings on the edge of the desk…
Taking the moment to pause, I stroked my fingertips along the edge of the desk, glancing around the small room. It lacked a view, or art, or anything that made it anything less than a small cog in the machinery that ran this precinct… but it was mine.
It was mine for right now, at least.
There was no telling what was going to happen with this case. The Lieutenant had put me on a dead end and he knew it. I was going to be the scapegoat to compartmentalize the damage when the department failed to find those girls. It was a way of quietly shoving me out of the way.
If I even found them, it would just make him look that much better for putting the new girl on the case.
Damn you, Sergeant, I groaned to myself. You and your stupid fucking leg…
Tucson had been tread and retread time and time again. There wasn’t anything new that was going to turn up there. It was a dead end… but it was as good a place as any to start.
I strolled down the stairs and out the front door of the precinct, the case folder tightly under my arm. Pulling out a pair of sunglasses in the hot Phoenix sun, I felt the slight breeze in the air. The wind flowed over me, caressing my skin – the very elements comforting me, pushing me onward.
The drive was only three hours even after fighting a few miles of morning traffic. I suspected that I wasn’t going to be staying in Tucson, so I saw fit to appease my Lieutenant while the window of opportunity was available. I phoned him moment that I arrived in the city.
“Glad to hear you can follow basic orders,” he snarled in response. “Where exactly are you starting your investigation?”
“I need to pour over these case files,” I replied truthfully. “Familiarize myself with the inner workings of this thing. Put some fresh eyes on it. If I’m going to dig something up, it’ll probably have to be from there.”