by Alicia Scott
“Good morning,” she said. That didn’t even earn her a nod. She gave up on small talk and simply launched into her spiel. She summarized the events leading up to Officer Brody shooting seventeen-year-old Charles Smith late last night. She described what they believed happened next: Spotting the incident, Toby Watkins had fired upon Officer Brody from a warehouse window, then fled the scene himself. CSU had finally found the shotgun, in a Dumpster behind the abandoned building. Preliminary fingerprint analysis revealed a match between prints recovered from the shotgun and prints found on the 9 mm Vee had thrown at Sandra two days before.
“So what’s this all mean?” one officer spoke up from the back. “According to the paper, it sounds like Brody’s the bad guy for firing when under attack, while this kid Watkins is the hero for shooting a cop. What’s the deal with that?”
Several officers grumbled their agreement. They stared at Sandra accusingly.
“That story is not coming from this office,” she said firmly. “While Officer Brody is now on probation as the disciplinary board investigates the shooting, we still consider him a member of Alexandria’s police force in good standing until the board concludes otherwise. Officer Brody has an excellent record and we stand behind that. Even if it does turn out that he opened fire inappropriately, there are a lot of other factors that must be weighed and analyzed. The mayor and myself appreciate that fact.”
People finally nodded. So the brass wasn’t going to make Brody the sacrificial lamb. Yet.
“Now then,” Sandra said. “The good news is that Officer Brody and the two teens are recovering from their injuries. The bad news is that Toby Watkins is still out there. We have reason to believe he’s heavily armed. He’s also frightened, confused and volatile. We must apprehend this boy. Peacefully.”
That earned her another collective mutter of disgust. Sandra leaned forward, her own voice angry and intent.
“Hey, we have a major community crisis on our hands. Half of the gang members we arrested last night talked about Vee as if he’s a local hero. It appears that gangs may also be helping Vee hide from the police. As his stature continues to grow in the eyes of the community, Vee will have even more resources at his disposal. And he may feel more pressure to fire on local law enforcement as a means of proving his newfound reputation. Obviously, we have to consider Vee dangerous and proceed with care. But we also have to consider how he is viewed by the public at large, particularly within the African-American community.”
“Wonderful,” someone muttered in the front row.
A second officer spoke up in the middle. “So what are we supposed to do? Roll over and play dead? This kid’s a killer and against a shotgun, vests don’t mean a thing.”
Sandra smiled tightly. This was the risky part of her speech. She was depending heavily on something Mike had told her the first day. She should trust her men more. She should give them some credit now and hope it came back to her later.
She said, “I don’t know what to do.”
Total silence. A few raised brows. Finally, an admit tance of weakness from their sharply dressed chief of police. Sandra had figured they would like that.
“I’ll be honest,” she said. “I’m too new to this to have ready answers. On the other hand, in this room we have over two hundred years of combined policing experience. We have some of the finest officers in the state and a police force I firmly believe in. This is our crisis. This is our community. Let’s put our heads together and resolve this matter. Let’s prove once and for all what being an Alexandria cop really means.”
More silence. Alone on the podium, Sandra feared her ploy had failed. Then a voice in the back of the room said, “We could find Vee. Hell, we go undercover all the time to find drug dealers. What’s one thirteen-year-old kid?”
Sandra homed in on the Vice detective. “Please explain.”
The forty-something cop stood, arms crossed over his barrel chest. “We go door to door as cops and nobody is gonna tell us a thing. You want the word on the street? We get it the way we always do. Dress up a couple Vice guys as bums, turn a couple of the ladies into hookers. We hang out for a bit, put our ears to the ground. My guess is half the population is buzzing about Vee. In a day or two, we’ll probably know not only where he’s hiding, but what the kid’s been eating for breakfast.”
“And then there’s the snitches,” another cop said with more excitement. “While we got officers on the street, we can also start calling in markers. Between Vice and Gang Task Force, we gotta have thirty, forty snitches who might know something. Not everyone wants to give up the hometown hero, but for the right price, half of them will.”
More enthusiastic nods now.
“We can use the family, as well,” Mike drawled from the back. “We got the ID late yesterday, so we didn’t have time to complete the background report. We can do a fresh interview of the sister this morning, then talk to the mother this afternoon. They oughta be able to give us a list of Toby’s known haunts. If the boy is truly scared, chances are he isn’t drifting too far from the familiar.”
“We should maintain watch at the house,” a new officer mentioned.
“School, too,” a second officer said.
“And the hospital where the mother is,” a third cop concluded, and earned a fresh round of approval.
“Okay,” Sandra said eagerly. “So here’s what we got. Vice detectives go undercover. Gang and Vice start calling on the snitches. Detectives Rawlins and Koontz finish the background report on Toby Watkins while the patrol officers keep watch on Vee’s house, school and mom. That’s a lot of manpower, but I doubt the mayor is going to complain. I’ll get going on the requisition paperwork. Anything else?”
Everyone looked at one another, interested and curious. Finally the lieutenants signaled that that was everything. They had a plan, and they liked it.
Sandra smiled brightly. “Wonderful. Excellent work. I’ll be holding a press conference with the mayor in the east side at two o’clock, urging community reconciliation. As part of that, I’ll make a plea for Vee to turn himself in. I doubt that will magically produce Toby Watkins on our doorstep, but it can’t hurt to try.”
Lieutenant Hopkins tentatively raised his hand in the front. For once, the lieutenant appeared worried instead of confrontational. “Uh, Chief, holding a speech in the east side seems like asking for trouble. If we haven’t found Vee yet…”
“We will be asking for a security detail,” Sandra said.
“Perhaps, you could put together that list of men. But the mayor wants the conference at the scene of the shooting. The crisis started there, so it must end there as well.”
Sandra adjourned the meeting. She was not surprised when Mike followed her straight from the debriefing room into her office. He shut the door hard.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the press conference?”
“I didn’t know myself until twenty minutes ago.”
“It’s too dangerous! Mon Dieu, what’s the mayor thinking these days? Kid’s still gonna be running loose and the chief of police will make one helluva target!”
“Mike, please.” Sandra made the mistake of placing a hand on his chest. That only reminded her of how strong he was, how warm, how appealing. Just twelve hours ago they’d been in bed, having a wonderful conversation. She already missed him.
Sandra reluctantly drew her hand back. She saw from Mike’s face he felt the loss as acutely as she did.
“Quite a night, wasn’t it?” she said ruefully. “So much for being able to wake up in each other’s arms.”
“Yeah,” he said more calmly, looking worn now himself. “You picked one helluva job, ma chère. Sure you don’t want to back out now?”
“Can’t. Turned down the final job offer with my daddy’s firm this morning. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Your parents have given up on changing your mind?”
“My father has. My mom’s going to need more time. By the way, you’re offi
cially invited over for a barbecue. Family only. They promised to be on their best behavior.”
Her big, strong ex-husband smiled feebly. He said bravely, “Great! Looking forward to it.”
“Liar.”
“Okay.”
Sandra smiled. He tried and that meant a great deal to her. Perhaps one of the greatest secrets of marriage was merely focusing on all the things your spouse did do, instead of the things he didn’t.
“I wish we could steal a minute alone,” she said softly.
“Me too, ma chère.”
“I liked having you naked. Have I ever told you just how much your body turns me on? Getting to run my hands across your chest, down your strong rippling arms…”
Mike’s gaze had gone dark. He said lowly, “Shut up, Sandy, or I’m going to make love to you on your desk.”
For a moment, she honestly considered it. A desk in a police station was about the only place they hadn’t made love. Of course, she was the chief of police, he was a detective, and the whole thing spelled trouble. She sighed instead, and did her best to drag her mind back to business. It had been a long night, focus came hard.
“I’m sorry. I suppose I should get ready for the press conference now.”
“Sandy…” Mike’s tone was immediately frustrated again. “Don’t do this. Call the mayor. Explain it to him. Two key city officials, right in Vee’s backyard. You’re asking for another major incident.”
“He’s not a sophisticated assassin, Mike. As long as the security detail does their job right, we’ll be fine.”
“It’s too risky!”
“But it’s my job. Please, you asked me to give you the space to do your work. Now give me the space to do mine.”
He scowled. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re mine!” he growled. “You’re my woman, and I have the right to protect my woman. Ask any caveman. That’s the way it works. You tend fire, I go kill woolly mammoth.”
Sandra raised a brow. Then she lost her fierce composure to a smile. Damn, Mike was sexy when he was over-protective. And cute. And she had to admit, it made her feel special. For the first time, they were interacting as allies and friends outside of the bedroom.
Then, in the way their relationship often worked, it made her want to strip him naked again.
She sighed longingly and got herself back under control. Her ex-husband was gazing at her curiously, a scowl still marring his features.
“Go away,” she ordered. “Find your partner, and get some work done.”
“I’ll only come back at one-thirty.”
“Then come back at one-thirty. I suppose I could use someone willing to club a woolly mammoth.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart.”
Mike finally looked mollified. He didn’t walk away, however. Instead, he glanced quickly at the closed door, then enfolded her in his arms. Her body immediately decompressed into his. She hadn’t realized just how tense she’d been this morning. Now she could feel the knots loosen in her shoulders, feel some of the weight of the world slip away. Sandra closed her eyes and focused on the reassuring rhythm of Mike’s strong, beating heart. He felt so good against her. Sometimes it was hard to believe they had ever drifted apart. But they had, and in spite of her bold words to her parents, Sandra was still afraid. Right now things were going well, but what about six months from now or one year from now? How did you know when you were truly ready for “better or for worse”?
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Mike said abruptly, his voice low.
“I’ll be fine,” she murmured. His arms tightened.
“I have a bad feeling, Sandy. I just do.”
“That’s not surprising. You haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”
“I know.” He reluctantly drew back. Sandra could still read concern carved into the strong planes of his face. She gently traced the lines with her fingertips.
“We’re all working together now, Mike. The whole department. Things are finally beginning to click.”
“The department is pulling together,” he agreed, though he still sounded troubled. “You should be proud, ma chère. None of this would’ve happened without you.”
“Thanks.”
Mike pulled all the way back now. A frown still marred his brow.
“I’ll find Koontz,” he said. “We’ll get the background report done.”
“I’ll see you at one-thirty. And Mike—I am nervous. I really would like you up there at my side. Thanks.”
“Ma chère, be careful.”
“Of course.”
By one-thirty, the security detail had conducted a clean sweep of the buildings located around the hastily constructed speaking pavilion. Press vans had arrived, speaker systems were being wired and microphones installed. Cars were beginning to appear, from white news vans to black stretch limousines. City council was present, as well as several prominent black leaders. Then there were the east-side civilians, from store owners to retired citizens to several noticeable groups of teens.
Officers were tense. So was the crowd.
And back in the police station, Sandra was finally beginning to sweat. Lieutenant Hopkins personally brought her a bullet-proof vest. He instructed her to wear it over a T-shirt for comfort, then cover it with her blouse. Standing in front of the mirror, she looked thicker than usual, but professional.
Sandra didn’t feel normal, however. She was unbearably conscious of the weight of the vest on her body. The stifling heat. The sweat trickling down between her shoulder blades. This was how she had sent her officers into duty every day for nearly a week. No wonder their nerves had been on edge.
At one forty-five, Sandra assembled her notes. Lieutenant Hopkins was waiting for her outside her office. Strange how she’d come to see him as an ally today. In the midst of a crisis, many things had changed.
Mike came running up just as she and Lieutenant Hopkins entered the parking garage. He’d obviously been working up to the last minute and was out of breath.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“That’s okay. How did the background reports go?”
“Got it.” He held up a list of places Toby Watkins was known to favor. “Will pass it on to the sergeant at the press conference. Any news?”
“Nothing yet. It’s only been four hours, though. Where’s Koontz?”
Mike’s expression faltered. “He, um, he got held up.”
Sandra stopped walking long enough to give Mike a look. She knew what he meant. “I’m going to have to discipline him,” she said softly.
“Let me talk to him first—”
“Mike, this matter is too serious for a partner-to-partner chat. Times like this, officers have to be willing to put their personal feelings aside. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to put him on probation. It’s the only option I have left.”
Mike’s face fell. He knew as well as she did, however, that Koontz had crossed the line. Officers did not bug out when their city had just suffered a riot.
“Did you get to talk to him at all?” she asked.
He shook his head. “He’s not at home. I don’t know where the hell he went. Sometimes…man, what goes through his head?”
Sandra sighed. “We’ll have to deal with it. Just not right now.” She rubbed her temples, feeling anxious and tense again. She could tell by the look on Mike’s face that he felt the same. And for a moment she was tired of Koontz and the strain he’d put on her and Mike’s marriage. She wished Rusty would just go away.
Something must have shown on her face, for Mike’s expression immediately shuttered closed.
“Later,” she murmured.
“Yeah, later.”
Sandra climbed into the police sedan. She did her best to pull herself together. She was the chief of police. Besides, she had all of Alexandria’s police force working to protect her. Oh, God…
She was breathing hard by the time they arrived
on the scene. Mike also appeared subdued.
“Security team?” he asked Lieutenant Hopkins.
“Went over every rooftop and building with a fine-tooth comb. Area is secure.”
“From Vee,” Mike muttered, and Sandra immediately saw his point. Several large groups of teenagers loitered at the edge of the news vans. They were geared up in gang colors and wore belligerent expressions as they stared at Sandra.
Lieutenant Hopkins and Mike exchanged looks. “Keep calm, keep cool,” Mike instructed Sandra under his breath. “First sign of trouble, we’ll hustle you right outta here. Got it?”
The clock hit two. Camera lights came on, and the mayor stepped out of his car, flanked by two bodyguards. Show time.
Mayor Peterson approached the podium first. He thanked the news crews and community leaders for attending the afternoon’s news conference. He spoke regretfully of the “tragic chain of events” that occurred last night and sent his heartfelt condolences to the families of Officer Brody and Charles Smith.
Then he stepped aside, and Sandra found herself in the middle of a circle of lights. For one moment, staring out at the sea of faces, some curious, some skeptical, some openly hostile, she lost her train of thought. She wondered if Toby Watkins was out there. She wondered if he was listening. She wondered if he was still scared, because she understood him better now. She was standing in the middle of this scrutiny, wearing a bullet-proof vest, and she was scared, too.
She said to the assembled crowd, “Alexandria’s police force has failed you.”
A small gasp rose up. The press, electrified by such a bold statement, started scribbling furiously. Mayor Peterson stared at Sandra as if she had lost her mind. Mike and Lieutenant Hopkins appeared to agree with him.
Sandra continued smoothly, “And you, the people of Alexandria, have failed us.”
Another shocked murmur. People shifted self-consciously on their feet. Sandra leaned forward and got into it.
“The mayor is right. Alexandria is in a state of crisis. We fear one another. In some cases, we hate one another. We look around and we see only our differences—white or black, rich or poor, cop or civilian. No one tries to look beyond that anymore.