The Officer

by Kelli Callahan

  “What do you think you’re gonna charge?” the kid asks, glowering.

  “Well,” I say, looking back up at him from my folder. “You did lure someone under false pretenses. You pointed a gun at someone. You tried to attack someone… all of these ‘someones’ turn out to be me, by the way. Me. The chief of police. Oh! And the little matter of cocaine that we found on you. Kind of heavy stuff as I was searching for marijuana.”

  “What?! It wasn’t that much cocaine! It was only—”

  “Charles, as your lawyer, I encourage you to be quiet right now,” Mr. Walker interrupts, holding up a small hand.

  I can’t help but smile. I know that I have them exactly where I want them. The only question is will Charles be smart enough.

  “Do you take the offer? Your client,” I say, glancing back to Charles. “Made a statement about the big guy being back in town. We know that ‘big’ guy, ‘big’ man, ‘boss’ man, etc., are all things that the lower gang members call Mr. Knight.” I pause, looking back at Charles hoping for some kind of flicker of information to cross his pale blue eyes.

  “I want to know if he really is back in business,” I say, looking hard at the young man before me, whose file thankfully shows he is nineteen.

  The two of them sit silently, looking at each other.

  “I just want to know if he is dealing again,” I say, looking hard at the boy. “Simple yes or no.”

  “If I tell you anything, they’ll kill me,’’ he whispers, looking at his hands. Suddenly he’s the epitome of a scared nineteen-year-old boy.

  “No one is going to kill you, Charles.”

  “If I say anything, they will know it’s me. Everyone knows I was taken in by a cop. I can’t be known as a snitch. It’ll be the end of me.”

  I feel frustration bubbling inside of me. It’s not that I don’t understand where he’s coming from. I just have bigger fish to fry than this nineteen-year-old, want-to-be, drug dealer.

  “Oh, perhaps,” Mr. Walker says, glancing between Crew and me. “We can assure you of full cooperation. However, for that, we will need to know how much you are lowering his sentence. From there, we can decide if it’s worth the risk of this young man’s life.” I notice that Mr. Walker is sitting straighter in his chair.

  “I can drop the drug charges, leaving him with attempted assault of an officer. It is a much shorter sentence. I have enough evidence to nail him, as we did find drugs on him. So, either way, he will be arrested. Again, the length of his sentence will be greatly reduced if he is willing to work with me.” I look at the kid with some sympathy. “While you’re on the inside, Charles, which I guarantee you will be, you should use the time to reflect as well as take advantage of the education opportunity. If you apply yourself, you’ll come out of prison early. You may even leave with some college credit.”

  It’s sad but it’s true. Taxpayer dollars fund the education of convicted felons while charging hundreds of thousands of dollars to hard-working American citizens chasing after the American dream with a college degree.

  “You have six hours to think it over,” I tell him, looking between Mr. Walker and Charles Crew.

  Rising slowly from the desk, I deliberately close the heavy folder, “I want to reiterate the severity of the situation, Charles. I am your only hope.”

  “Okay,” he says snarkily, startling the portly Mr. Walker. “Fine! I’ll give you the information.”

  “Charles, are you sure?” Mr. Walker squawks. I want to rap him on the back of the head for interfering.

  “I haven’t seen nothing,” he says with a quick shrug. “All I know is what I hear.”

  “What do you hear?” I ask, my face critical and untrusting.

  “I haven’t seen nothing,” he says. He’s not looking at me. “All I know is what I hear. I hear the big man is back. I hear that he is running things from afar, keeping his distance, because he can’t get favor with the new mayor and have a second chance. I hear the boss is the brains of all brains. I ain’t seen him working. Truth is, no one has. I just know the drugs come and they shouldn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask, sitting forward in the uncomfortable metal chair.

  “What I mean is that we’ve all been getting shipments. The drugs come but no one delivers them. They just show up and then we make the money. We drop it off in the same spot and more comes. It ain’t supposed to be possible, but it’s being done so discreetly that no one sees a thing. We know he’s doing it. We know exactly who it is, and we are all too scared to talk. I’m only talking because I know I will be put away for a little while for our incident earlier. I want to be placed in a prison far from here where no one can reach me, okay? I don’t want to lose my neck for this.” He looks defeated.

  “I can definitely arrange all those things,” I say, frowning. “I just have one last question.”

  Chip looks from me to the lawyer and the lawyer slowly nods his head, watching me.

  “You said that you don’t know where the drugs come from, they just show up. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” Chip confirms.

  “I want to know where you pick them up from and where you drop the money off.”

  “You already know where. I took you there because I wanted it to be believable. As I said earlier, I want protection. The money from the deals is dropped off every Friday at midnight in that warehouse. “

  “And where do you pick up the drugs?”

  “Again, they are also in the warehouse. They just show up the next day there in the middle of the floor in packages of granola.”

  “Granola?” I say, with some confusion.

  “Yes, we find them in packages of granola and trail mix. They’re food packages on the outside but on the inside, there are packets of cocaine. It’s how we are able to distribute so easily.”

  Hiding in food. I think that’s genius. Shit.

  “Friday night,” I say glancing down on my watch. “It’s Friday, six pm. In six hours, there will be a drop off. So, who is in charge of dropping off the money? Is it you?”

  “Yeah…it’s me.”

  “And do you have any money for the drop off?”

  “Yeah. Of course, I do,” he says in frustration. “I don’t pocket none of it. I am an honest worker.”

  The irony.

  “Where can I find the money?” I ask.

  “It’s in my sock drawer.”

  “And the address in your file? Is this where the sock drawer is?

  “Yeah,” he confirms quietly.

  “Okay, I’m going to need one more thing from you. I need you to get the money for me.”

  “I can’t give you the money,” he protests. “They will know that it was me!”

  “You aren’t going to give it to me,” I say, after a beat. “You are going to drop it off, tonight, like you’re supposed to, and then come quietly into custody. Any funny business at all and I’m charging you with everything I’ve got.” I give him a hard look.

  “Okay,” he says, quietly nodding.

  Rising from the chair for the last time, I shake hands with Mr. Walker and Charles Crew. Charles looks at me funny but takes my hands in acceptance and what I hope is appreciation for this bone I have thrown him.

  I am supposed to see Lucy tonight. I hate to be the one always sending her home, but this is official police business. I don’t want to risk her hearing about the investigation into her father. I know it will upset her, and I hate to upset her.

  Pulling out my phone, I decide to send her a quick text: Hey Lucy, what do you think about Pizza at your place tonight? I can’t stay, but I still want to see you.

  Almost immediately, Lucy replies: Oh, why can’t you stay?:(

  I have an ongoing police investigation. I can’t really talk about it. I still want to see you though. Pizza?

  Fighting my phone in my pocket, I pull up the files I need for the drug deal case. I need to be completely prepared. This might be my last chance to catch him. If I screw this up, I could lo
se the case of a lifetime and my girlfriend. Have the steaks ever been higher?

  Suddenly my phone dings. It’s a text from Lucy.

  Yes, pizza sounds good. Do you wanna watch a movie too?

  Oh boy.

  I wish I could, but I do have to get back home and finish up on some reports. I can only stay an hour.

  Send.

  I hope it doesn’t upset her, but this is something that needs my full attention.

  Walking over to the shelf, I grab the car keys and my jacket to head home. I can squeeze in a little bit of studying before I meet up with Lucy at eight, then I’ll be on the road by nine. It will need to be a short and sweet visit. It is hard for people to adhere to the demands of police life. Honestly, I think it is a breaking point in most cop relationships. Oftentimes, the job has to come first and it’s something that is difficult for people. We all want to come first, but in my line of work, it just isn’t possible.

  Later that night…

  * * *

  “Well hello sexy,” Lucy purrs as I knock on her front door.

  I parked my pick-up truck down the road. I usually drive the police cruiser around town, so I hope that it won’t be glaringly obvious to the residence that I am in the neighborhood.

  “Hey there,” I say. A broad grin on my face as I take in the delicious sight that is Lucy Knight.

  She’s teasing me on purpose right now. Between her come hither smile and the pretty pink dress she’s wearing, my cock is already getting hard. Something about her just tugs at me from deep within.

  “What did you do today?” she asks, stepping back into the small house.

  “I worked on a police case.”

  “Well I assume you did that,” she giggles, “seeing as how you are chief of police and all that. It’s not all doughnuts and guns though is it?” she asks winking at me.

  “No but that would be nice,” I tease back before I place a quick peck on her cheek after she closes the door.

  “You’ll have to take me shooting some time,” she says, sashaying down the hall as the smell of joe’s Italian pizza wafts down the hall. I can’t rightfully say if it’s her or the pizza that has me drooling at this point. It occurs to me that I haven’t eaten all day.

  “What about you?” I ask, hoping to change the subject. “What have you been up to?”

  “Well I did work today even though I wasn’t supposed to,” she explains as she gives me a thick slice of New York pizza. “But Annie Andrews has it in her head to work me like a dog, so I found myself sorting a surprise shipment of granola on the shelves for several hours. She says with a gentle shrug that shows she’s frustrated but accepting of her job.

  “A surprise shipment? How often do you get surprise shipments?” I prod.

  “Not often.” She shrugs while bustling around the kitchen. “More so recently, and it’s always weird flavors too. Like why would anyone eat pumpkin spice in the summer? Or pumpkin spice anything really?” she rambles on, as granola rings familiar in my ears.

  “Sorry, where did this shipment come from?” I ask, cutting her off. Then immediately feeling bad for doing so.

  “Oh,” she says surprised by the question. “I am not really sure. I didn’t ask. I just got a call saying there was more work, and she would pay me time and a half for coming in. So I went in after visiting you.” She grins. “I’m making a measly eight bucks an hour. Today I made twelve.” She winks and starts pouring me a glass of Coca-Cola.

  “Sorry,” she says shaking the can at me. “I would have given you a glass of red wine to go with the pizza but something tells me that under the circumstances you won’t appreciate it.” After she throws away the can she picks up her plate and strolls into the living room.

  “I’m going to pretend that you don’t have access to alcohol in your home as you’re under twenty-one,” I smirk, picking up my slice of pizza as I follow her into the living room.

  “You do that,” she sasses, “because I’ll never tell you my dealer,” she says jokingly.

  “So tell me more about this surprise shipment,” I prod some more, continuing my mental interrogation while playing interested boyfriend. I am always interested in her thoughts, but this has a certain appeal that I can’t ignore even if my questions could be seen as selfish.

  “I’m a little surprised that you’re interested in granola of all things,” she says with a laugh.

  “Humor me,” I tell her.

  “There’s not much else to tell,” she shrugs. “Like I said before, I got a call from Annie saying that there was more to be put away. I guess she really wanted to start distributing it if she was willing to offer time and a half.

  “And your sure it was Annie?” I ask, taking a bite of my pizza, trying to remain casual.

  “Well yeah,” she says. “Who else would call me from Annie’s number and sound like Annie and why would anyone want to pretend to be her in the first place?” she asks, brushing off the question and showing she is no longer interested in this conversation.

  Annie Andrews that is an interesting thought. They are storing the drugs in granola. We already know this. And now there’s a surprise shipment, and Annie the penny-pincher, moody person that she is, is calling someone she doesn’t like to take care of it. She even paid her extra to come in.

  “OK. Final question,” I tell her, “and then we can watch your show,” I say pointing to whatever laugh track comedy she put on the TV. “Where did you have to put these surprise boxes of granola?” I ask. “Are they out in the open with the regular stuff?”

  “No,” she shakes her head. “They are actually in the storage room of the convenience store. Which is kind of unusual just because we are generally low on stock, and I tend to overflow the shelves. I assume that this was a surprise double order. I don’t know where the shipment came from. I wasn’t interested enough to ask more questions, but if I knew that you would be this interested, I would’ve asked more,” she says watching me for a moment contemplating.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I say with a quick smile, “I just like to ask questions.”

  “Well that’s true,” she says with a quick laugh. “You know Kenton, I fell for your inquiring mind first.”

  “Is that so?” I ask with a grin.

  “Yes, sir,” she replies, finishing off her slice of pizza.

  Chapter Nine

  LUCY

  Lucy

  * * *

  I hate that he had to go.

  We hardly get to spend any time together and it doesn’t seem quite fair. Initially, when we planned dinner together, I thought that he would be able to stay an hour. It wasn't that demanding, but I was expecting it to be the standard, especially on weekends. How would I go about talking to him though? I don’t want to seem overly needy or immature, especially with our age difference. I worry about it, even though he has never said I was acting needy.

  I walk across the living room and pick up a box of pizza and his empty soda cup. I feel a hollowness in my chest. I really wanted a boyfriend who would be there for me. He doesn’t have to be there all the time, but in the evening be nice. I wonder if this is why Charlie’s mom left. Was she lonely? It sounds like it would be a lonely life, being the wife of a police officer.

  My phone rings suddenly, calling me from my thoughts. Looking down at the caller ID I see Charlie’s stunning face smiling up at me. That’s a little unusual, why would Charlie be calling me so late?

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hey girl,” said Charlie, using her innocent sounding puppy voice, “What are you doing tonight?”

  “Oh nothing,” I say, looking around my empty living room remembering how her father sat here only minutes ago. “My plans basically fell through. What about you? What are you doing tonight?”

  “Oh, I am going to be out at a club with a couple friends. Do you want to stop by?”

  “Wait? You’re home early?” I ask excitedly.

  “Yes,” she squeals.

  The possibil
ity of music and alcohol with my friend does sound enticing, especially since I didn’t get to have my wine with my pizza, and I’ve missed Charlie so much. Alas, that is the downside of being the girlfriend of a police officer, they are all about the “no underage drinking” thing. I guess I can rule out a boyfriend who will bring me beer.

  Is that on Charlie's mind? I wonder if Kenton would approve of me out drinking with his daughter. Probably not.

  He may be a little frustrated with me already. “You know what? Yeah. I can go,” I say shaking my head. What does it matter what he thinks? He’s my boyfriend, not my father and I decide what I do with my time. “Give me the address and I’ll be there in an hour.”

  “Yay!” Charlie yells. I hear her clapping enthusiastically through the speaker. “Oh my God, we are going to have so much freaking fun. You’re going to wonder why you ever second guessed coming,” she promises.

  Hanging up the phone, I head up the stairs to find my most slutty cocktail dress. I’m gonna go with a little black one, I think to myself, looking through my closet. I like the way it makes my skin look covered in dark alabaster. Looking around until I find the right one, I mutter to myself that I have way too many cocktail dresses. I wonder if I’ll ever have an opportunity to wear these with Kenton? Is he the kind of man that likes to go out looking classy? That is something I’ll have to ask him sometime. I feel confident that he will never go to a club in our area. He doesn’t want to be recognized and I don't blame him. If people find out about us, they are bound to start talking. And if too many people start talking, it makes it hard to remember what you initially found attractive about each other. Your head fills with the screaming doubts of the people pretending to care, even though I know they care mostly about themselves.

  Stripping off my T-shirt and jeans, I wonder what my father would say. I can’t imagine him reacting well. Kenton and his ex-wife used to babysit Abbie and me. I guess if you look at it that way, it does seem a little odd, but you can’t help how and when you meet people. We waited until I was grown, in fact I wasn’t even aware of his feelings for me until that point. More than that, we are taking the time to really analyze the feelings ourselves.