Roland P D Omnibus

by Ruth DuCharme

  I signal for one officer to go to the front door of the residence to alert the homeowners that we will be in their yard. I announce over the radio that we are starting our search. We make entry into the backyard through a side gate and we all cover our own patch of grass while the K9 and his handler searches. Nothing.

  We pop back out and take the next yard. The K9 alerts on the fence. It looks like the perp is going east bound through the back yards. “Radio, anyone calling in with strange noises or anything?”

  “Negative, S57. Board is clear.”

  We take each house up the block and each time an officer runs to the front door to alert the home owners we are in the yard. We have to make sure there are no loose dogs or backyard campers that we might come in contact with. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.

  We are four houses into our search when the K9 alerts on a shed. Anderson shouts out the standard warning, “Roland PD! Come out! Come out or I’m sending the dog.” Nothing. One officer swings open the shed door and Anderson lets the K9 inside. A cacophony of yelling and barking ensues. The K9 has his guy. Chomp, chomp. Good boy.

  Anderson commands the K9 to ‘off’ and makes room for the other officers to cuff up the guy we’ve found. I broadcast our progress but instruct the team, “Hold your perimeter until we can confirm this is our suspect.” Just because we bit someone doesn’t mean he’s the right someone. I learned that little gem of a lesson the hard way as well.

  We hold fast while Camden takes our suspect out front and another officer swings by with the victim in tow. I walk out to the front of the yard to watch.

  Officer Brexler has the victim in the back of his car and I can see he has used his spotlight to light up the suspects face. I listen carefully as Brexler gives the in-field line up admonishment. I can hear him through his open window. Old fart. His hearing aid must be turned down. He’s loud as hell. Brexler keys his car radio mic, “It’s a positive identification.”

  I respond with radio traffic of my own, “S57, I copy, it’s a positive.” I know it seems silly that we say everything over the radio when we are within earshot of each other but radio traffic is recorded and if anyone ever needs to question what we just did, we have a little something for posterity.

  An ambulance is called and once it pulls up the paramedics take a few seconds to examine our suspects injuries. Dog bites are always ugly. Camden cuffs our suspect to a stretcher and the rig heads to the hospital. Anderson and Camden follow them and I’ll be right behind them as soon as I get back to my car.

  Carson is still standing on the sidewalk next to his car and it appears he’s been waiting for me. “Good job.”

  “Thanks. I need to get over to the hospital to get the suspects statement and make sure the CSI takes all the necessary pictures.”

  “When you’re done, meet me for coffee. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Is everything alright? I’m not in trouble again, am I?”

  Carson laughed. “Not at all. I want to sit and have a discussion about your future. You think about taking the lieutenants promotional test yet?”

  “No.” I breathe a little sigh of relief, “but I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Find me when you’re done here and we can have a talk about it.”

  I really don’t want to spend any alone time with Carson but what can I say except, “Copy that LT!”

  Chapter Eighty

  Something doesn’t feel right. Maybe it’s just my nerves after what happened only moments before the search and subsequent dog gnaw. I can’t shake my unease.

  I make it to the hospital and get inside just as they are wrapping the suspects arm. I try to ask him a few questions and just my luck, he doesn’t speak a lick of English. I tell dispatch to send me a bi-lingual officer for interpretation.

  Camden sidles up as the suspect and I stare at each other. “Hey what did the LT want?”

  “Nothing. He just wanted to talk about my future and the upcoming lieutenants exam.”

  “Oh I see. Kinda like you pushing me into the sergeants exam.”

  “That’s different. Being a sergeant is the most rewarding job there is. Becoming a LT means I become one of ‘them’. As a sergeant you are still one of the guys and you are in a unique position to shield them from above. I’d feel like I’d be losing that if I became a paper pusher like the LT.”

  “He’s out here in the streets too, you know.”

  “Not like I am, he isn’t. I don’t want to just route reports and write memos all shift while watching my officers do the things I used to do myself. Besides who wants to work all night and then turn around and go to community meetings during the daylight hours.”

  “You just don’t want to be awake during the day.”

  “That too. But those things are a pain. I didn’t come to this job for that nonsense. I came to do badass shit like this and encourage badass guys like you!”

  “And you love the blood and gore. All the shootings and dog bites; this is where the action happens.”

  “Damn straight it is!”

  My bi-lingual officer arrives and he helps me finish my limited interview with the suspect. Of course now that he can understand the questions I’m asking, the suspect tells me to go screw myself . In all honesty, his refusal to talk just makes my paperwork load a whole lot easier. No statement means a shorter memo.

  I make sure all is going smoothly and my guys have what they need before heading back out to my car. I’m parked in the ambulance bay and the rig is still running next to mine.

  I knock on the ambulance door and my favorite paramedic opens in response, “Shaw!!! Hey gorgeous you never come see us anymore.”

  “Yeah, yeah, Homer, I know. Got any antiseptic wipes for your favorite gal?”

  “I do but you hurt my feelings. You only come visit when you need something.”

  “Hey I gotta keep from being a patient don’t ??”

  “I don’t know about that. I’d take real good care of you.” Homer winks at me. I stick my finger in my mouth and fake a gag.

  “Man, you’re a tough one.”

  “I’m just messing with you. Now give me a wipe and let me get the heck out of here, will ya?”

  Chapter Eighty-One

  I get back in my car and check the computer. Nothing too big holding. I let radio know I’m enroute to the station for cleanup. I am making my way there when I get a text alert. Shit. It’s probably Shorty. I forgot to swing by. Or rather, I haven’t had the time. I check the message and see it’s the LT.

  98 me at the bunker

  Coffee?

  I have coffee for you. Black right?

  Yes thanks. Ert.

  Instead of making my way X, I head towards the three story parking garage, in the center of the city, we call the bunker. Officers use the empty garage to write their reports, talk, or to take a forbidden cat nap where no one can see or bother them. On most nights you can find at least two downtown officers in there. When shit goes down you can get pretty much anywhere quickly from the bunker.

  On New Year’s Eve, any working downtown officer takes cover in the bunker for the fifteen minutes prior to and the fifteen minutes directly after midnight. It’s the best view of the city which morphs into a scene straight from an Iraqi war zone.

  Celebratory gunfire is some of the most dangerous gunplay. What goes up must come down and the cement bunker assures us that what comes down won’t be coming down on our heads. The standard “have fun don’t shoot your gun” propaganda we send out every year does nothing to curb the amount of automatic gunfire so I suppose the bunker comes by its name honestly.

  I arrive and drive to the third floor. Carson is already here and I find him parked, engine running, facing outward on the down ramp. I pull my car alongside his in the standard 98 position and roll down my driver side window.

  He hands me a steaming cup of coffee, “Here you are sergeant.”

  “Thanks, LT. I appreciate it.”

 
“So, about the promotional exam…”

  “LT, before you waste your breath, I’m really not interested in promoting. I like my job the way it is. This a great team of guys and I’d really like to stay where I am. Not to mention how horribly bored to tears I already get with all that admin stuff. The only danger in pushing paper is the off chance I might get a papercut. No offense.”

  “None taken. There’s more to it than that though. I’m a lieutenant and I’m out here with you guys all the time. You don’t see me stuck behind a desk all shift do you?”

  “No but then again I’m hardly ever in the station.” I grin as I sip my coffee. Its scalding hot and burns my tongue but its deliciously dark and I savor the burning feeling.

  Carson laughs at my little remark and I continue, “As a matter of fact, I barely see you at all. What DO you do all shift, LT? Sharpen pencils? Bug the dispatchers? Read romance novels?”

  Even though I jest, the shift in Carson’s demeanor is noticeable. His face is a stone. Then, like flash in the pan, his face resumes a smile. But I notice everything and this little Mr. Hyde moment hasn’t slipped my attention. I continue to peek at him through the steam of my coffee as I take a bigger gulp, scalding the back of my throat even further.

  “Let’s see, I drive around, check on the officers and my sergeant,” he nods at me, “and I do a little business of my own.”

  My ears perk at this revelation but I try not to give away my interest as I drink more of my coffee. “Business of your own? Do you have a business here in the city you check on?”

  “I guess you could call it that. I don’t have a building but I do have business partners who reside here. I grew up here, did you know that? Born and raised.”

  I glance at him as nonchalantly as possible and notice he is looking through his windshield at nothing in particular. I take another sip of coffee. Is he about to come clean with me? Is he going to give me info? What is this really about?

  “No, I had no idea.” I press my luck, “What kind of business?”

  “The kind I can’t do during the day, Sergeant.” He turns his head and looks right at me with a look I’ll never forget. His eyes are cold and dead and they seem to bore right through me.

  I start to feel extremely tired. Is this some kind of voodoo he’s pulling? Hypnotizing me with his stare? His face starts to look weird. A little Raider’s of the Lost Ark-face-melting action going on. I shake my head as I break his gaze and my eyes clear. Well that was weird.

  I love working nights but those hours between three and five in the morning can be rough. Your body just naturally fights being awake and it’s a challenge to stay coherent. I check the clock on my car dash. 3:30 a.m. Well that explains it. I drink the rest of my coffee swiftly and crank on the air conditioner to help me stay awake.

  “Are you ok, Sergeant Shaw?”

  “I’m fine, just a little tired. I didn’t get as much sleep today as I thought and you know how it is after an adrenaline dump. This time of morning, is always a challenge.”

  I look at him again, out of the corner of my eye, just to make sure Mr. Melty Face is gone. Whew. Just the LT and he’s smiling. Big toothy smile.

  “What? What are you smiling at?”

  “You don’t look so good, Shaw.”

  “What? I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

  “Is that all? You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  “S57, do you copy?” Dispatcher 11389 sounded impatient. This was the third time she’d tried to raise Sgt. Shaw and it was getting a little annoying that she wasn’t answering up.

  Receiving no response yet again, dispatcher 11389 tried one more time, “Dispatch to S57!” The irritation seeped through the mic. “Copy. Still no response. W114.” Dispatcher 11389 is about to make it quite clear that if Shaw won’t answer when she calls, she’s going to make sure the lieutenant knows about it.

  “W114, I copy. She’s not answering. Give her the tone.”

  Dispatcher 11389 hit the alert button which always gave an errant officer the notice that they had better listen up.

  Beep, beep, beep. Three times the alert sounded before dispatcher 11389 broke in once again, “S57 come in.”

  Camden advised, “2L6 I’ll check the locker room.”

  Lopez advised, “2L4 I’ll swing by the station.”

  Carson advised, “W114 I’m X. I’ll check the jail.”

  The tones sounded again, beep, beep, beep.

  “She’s not in the locker room.”

  “She’s not in the station or the jail.”

  “W114, let’s start a grid search.”

  Each officer knew what to do. Starting in their assigned beats each officer drove up and down each street, block by block, looking for Shaw.

  It’s not unheard of on graveyard shift, for an officer to find a place to park and sleep. Usually they let either dispatch or their beat partner know where they are in case they miss the radio or something happens to them. If you need a quick few minutes of shut eye, it’s wisest to meet up with your partner so he can watch your back while you check your eyelids for cracks.

  Falling asleep alone can be dangerous. Someone could sneak up on you and kill you. Or worse, take a picture and post it to social media.

  Sometimes Internal Affairs comes out on graves and drives around to all the well-known snoozing spots just trying to catch an officer remiss in his or her public duties. Falling asleep on graves Is a no, no, but have you ever tried to stay up all night?

  Camden dismissed the radio and phoned into dispatch. Dispatcher 11389 answered the phone immediately and Camden tried to sooth her irritation, “Hey Laurie its Jason.”

  “Hey you find her?”

  “No! I’m starting to worry. She have any spots she likes to go?”

  Yeah check the church lot at 34th street and Humphrey. She never snoozes but sometimes she’s on the phone and turns her walkie down. Drives me crazy.”

  “She wearing her earpiece tonight though, I saw it.”

  “Maybe she took it out if she was on the phone?”

  “Where did you have her last?”

  “The last call was at the hospital and then she said she was on her way to the station. But that was over an hour ago.”

  “Ok , I’ll swing by the hospital. Maybe she went back to get some more info or something.”

  “Copy. Let me know the second you find her. I want to chew her ear off! And hug her.” Laurie, aka dispatcher 11389, had quickly changed her tune. Her fear for Shaw’s safety clearly outweighed any irritation she felt moments before.

  As Camden drove back to the hospital he listened to his teammates clearing their beats.

  “2L1 my beat is clear.”

  “2L5 mines clear also.”

  With each officers transmission, Camden’s worry deepened. Something had definitely happened to Shaw.

  “W114, anyone check the bunker?”

  “2L6, I’ve already checked it. No sign of her. I’m back at the hospital now. She’s not here either.”

  “W114 to dispatch, let’s call the sheriff’s department and get their bird up. Maybe they can light up the nooks and crannies and find that car. I’ll be X making notifications and calling in more bodies.”

  Camden took his time driving back to his beat. He checked every hiding spot he could think of but still no luck in finding Shaw. He stopped his car at a red traffic light and watched it blink. Camden sat staring up the empty street. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Shaw’s work cell for the millionth time. Voicemail. He dialed her personal cell. Straight to voicemail as well.

  Camden looked to his left as another patrol car pulled up in the number one lane and stopped next to his.

  “Hey Brexler, anything?”

  “Naw, man, and this isn’t like her. She never misses a radio call and tonight she’s been almost impossible to get ahold of. This is like the third time she’s gone radio silent!”

  “Has anything been goi
ng on that you know about? Has she been acting weird at all?”

  “No man, nada.”

  “I hate to even let my mind go there but is there anyone on the streets giving her a hard time? Anyone she piss off?”

  Brexler laughed, “Sarge pisses everyone off, but then they just seem to love her when it’s all said and done. She’s got brass balls man and I can’t believe she’d let anyone take her without a fight.”

  “I agree but, shit, not even a mic key or anything.”

  “You try calling her?”

  “Hasn’t everyone?”

  “Well since you’re teacher’s pet I thought she might answer up for you if not for any of the rest of us peons.”

  Camden gave Brexler a dirty look, “Not my fault she likes having someone on her team who doesn’t make her do all the heavy lifting”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing,” Camden exhaled loudly.

  “Look man, we all want to find her. She gets herself into and out of plenty of shit without the rest of her team getting dragged down with her. She has her own mind and if you think she goes solo it’s because she wants it that way. She isn’t exactly an open book out here you know.”

  “You think she’s hiding something and that something got her in trouble?”

  “Possibly. Maybe she got herself into something and finally underestimated the wrong situation.”

  “No way, she wouldn’t do that. She takes cover when she needs it. I just listened to her chew out Lopez for not waiting on cover!”

  “Don’t be so naïve. Shaw is real good at ‘do as I say not as I do’ man.”

  “You’re a dick, you know that Brexler?”

  “Look, all I’m saying is I wouldn’t be surprised if one of these guys on the street had finally had it with her and took their shot. You can’t really think she’s just sleeping somewhere or ignoring her radio do you?

  Get real kid. This kind of shit is why women shouldn’t be cops. Getting themselves into trouble and then the rest of us gotta go rescue their pretty asses. She’s putting everyone else on the team at risk, wasting resources, making us jump through all these hoops and taking bodies off the street. Bodies that could be answering calls for service for the people who actually pay our paychecks.”