by Jim Riley
“I’ve always liked you, Dell.” It was a lie and I knew it. I also didn’t like him using my first name. But I didn’t say anything. Maybe it was another of my first baby steps toward growing up.
“Same here.” That almost made me puke. Growing up sucks.
“The thing I’ve always appreciated the most about you is the way your men follow you. You have their respect. That’s important.”
Yeah, you’d never know that feeling, you pompous ass. “Thank you.”
“What would you be expecting out of the job if I offered it to you?”
“A paycheck.” Smartass, but not out of bounds.
“I mean, you could come in as a sergeant, but is there anything else you would be expecting to be afforded?”
“I not sure I follow you. What else is there?”
He hesitated. He was trying to lead me somewhere; I just didn’t know where.
“I was thinking specifically about the SWAT Team.”
Oh, I got it. He still had a hard-on to own the team. “Well, I haven’t given it a lot of thought. I’d actually have to think about it for a while.”
He nodded his head like he understood, but I knew he had no idea. “I heard you had a few problems when you left the Sheriff’s Department.” He had a way of saying “Sheriff’s Department” like it was a disease.
“Just a disagreement. I was going through a rough time. It was time to leave, and I did. No bad feelings. In fact, Sheriff Tobias told me he would have hired me back if he had an opening.” That struck a chord. I saw his cheek twitch. I had no idea why he wanted so badly for me to work for him, but he did.
“I think we can make it work out. When could you start?”
“Couple of weeks. I have to find a place to live. But I also have another job application out.” It was a lie, and I’m not sure why I said it. Maybe the thought of messing with him. I thought it out in the next few seconds and decided where I wanted to go with it. It had caught him off-guard, and he sat forward and rested his arms on the desk.
“I wasn’t aware of that.” He had a frown on his face. I had him.
“That department is not my first choice to work for, but it’s a detective position and that’s what I really wanted to go back to doing. If they call me, I’ll probably take it. I just thought I owed it to you to tell you up front.”
Stalone pursed his lips slightly and pushed them out. It was his tell. He always did it when he was beginning to get a little stressed over something. He was slightly nodding his head and staring at the far wall.
I waited until what I felt was the right time and spoke up. “Well, I should find out something about the other job by tomorrow morning and I’ll call you. Thank you for seeing me and considering me for the job.” I was standing to leave and reached out to shake his hand. I was leaving with almost all the cards and knew it. So did he.
“Do you have a phone I can reach you at tonight?”
I gave him my cell number and left. Occasionally, you hit a home run and didn’t even realize you were going to have a chance to bat.
As I expected, Stalone called me that night. He informed me that he had moved some people around and there was now an opening in the Investigations Division. It wasn’t a sergeant’s position, so he couldn’t very well give me stripes; however, to make up for it, he would give me sergeant’s pay. I agreed and thanked him for the opportunity to serve the people of Eaglenest.
If there is anything more gratifying than catching a perp in a lie and tying him to a crime, it’s probably illegal. I was walking up to the door of a $1,000,000 condominium about a block from the ski slopes to serve a search warrant on a very wealthy and snotty heir to some bullshit manufacturing business. He was twenty-three years old and had always received anything he wanted delivered to him on a silver platter. Unfortunately for him, his last order had involved some child pornography. Even my asshole boss couldn’t ignore this. Had it been a pound of coke or meth I would have had to persuade him, or at least try, to let me go get the rich kid. But child porn is like a universal no-no, even in yuppieville. I had Colorado Bureau of Investigations Agent Kraus with me. It was his job to secure and take the computer for evidence. I brought him in because I still didn’t know crap about computers.
The little puke squealed like a mashed cat until I told him what he was under arrest for. Then he began vehemently denying he had done anything like what I was accusing him of. I was not very impressed with his denials. Especially since he had printed out some of the photos and was jerking off while looking at them right before we got there. At least, I assumed that’s what the fluid on the pictures was. I gave Kraus the pleasure of collecting that evidence, too, since I was busy with my prisoner.
I was writing out my final supplemental report on my kiddy-porn puke when Randy Mangus came in. Randy and I shared an office. He was about ten years younger than me and had been with the department for seven years. He was one of the few that didn’t resent me for bumping the previous detective out of Investigations. His reasoning was simple. The other guy was a lazy shit and wasn’t a good cop. He wouldn’t have to carry him anymore. I liked Randy.
“Good job on that rich kid with the porn. Did he lawyer up?”
“Once he quit crying.”
“You tell him what they do to people like him in prison?”
“No more than a dozen times. I didn’t want to scare him.”
“You’re a pretty good detective, Dell. I’m glad to have you on board.”
It was a compliment coming from Randy. He didn’t give them out to freely and I appreciated it.
“You want to go get a beer?” It was meant with the best of intentions, and I didn’t want to turn him down.
“I don’t drink. How about dinner?” I offered.
“Sounds good.”
He took his SUV and I took mine. They were P.D.-issued Ford Expeditions. Every officer had one. Nothing but the best for Eaglenest P.D.
I wondered if it was out of deference to me not drinking when Randy didn’t order any alcohol, so I told him it would be okay if he drank in front of me.
“Oh, I don’t drink either.”
“But you asked me out for a beer?”
“Most cops drink, so I assumed. I just always have a Coke.” I didn’t ask, so he offered. “I’m an alcoholic. Eight years, ten months, and three days.”
I nodded but didn’t fill him in on my situation.
He already knew a little about me—Dallas P.D., SWAT, and obviously the Goldstein building thing in St. Louis. Hell, everyone knew about that. He asked. I told him I still couldn’t talk about it, and we moved on. He told me he had been a loan officer until he turned thirty and decided he had always wanted to be a cop, so he put himself through the academy. When he went job hunting, he found an opening at Eaglenest. He saw that their pay scale was well above what other agencies on the western slope paid and that had appealed to his banking background.
I looked at Randy while he dipped his French fries in ketchup. He looked like a banker, now that I thought of it. Kind of portly, which made his suits fit funny. That was another thing—he always wore a suit. Detectives on the western slope of Colorado, i.e., rural, usually don’t wear suits. It makes us stick out too much. Slacks and a polo shirt or button-down are usually as far as it goes. But not Randy. He was business all the way. His hair was thinning on top, and if he kept it as long as it was now he would be resigned to doing a comb-over in another few years. His face, like his body, was a little plump. Kind of that chubby, school-boy look. But Randy had something going for him that most cops don’t, and I’m not talking about knowing how to balance a checkbook. He most often could see both the forest and the trees. He also normally held his comments until he was sure about what he thought he knew, and consequently, he was rarely too far off the mark in the end.
“You glad you came here?”
“It took me about a year to figure out that extra few thousand dollars a year was a bullshit bonus,” Randy replied.
“Yeah. A bonus to put up with Stalone’s bullshit.”
We both laughed at that one. I really liked this guy. I had been working with Randy for three months and this was the first real conversation we’d had outside of the office and not directly related to a case. That was my fault, I knew. He seemed to be a nice guy, and I was ... well, me.
The next several months came and went faster than I would have thought. I was beginning to carve a niche for myself in the department and with the city. Ironically—at least I thought it was—the powers-that-be at the ski area, our “gods on high,” as it were, seemed to like me. I had made a few cases that involved the ski area, but they were pretty insignificant and it shouldn’t have really impressed them enough to notice me, but they had nonetheless. It wasn’t bad enough that I had horned my way into the Investigations Division, now I had the eye of the lords-on-high. There were those in the department that lived to please the lords, and they couldn’t get so much as a good morning. I had pissed off about a quarter of the department without even trying. Oh, well.
I continued to focus on working cases and keeping my nose clean, which mainly consisted of keeping my mouth shut and counting the days. I had just passed my six-month anniversary with the P.D., which meant I was only six months from holding a job for a year—the challenge that Tish had given me. We still talked regularly, and she always asked about my job. I would tell her how well it was going and maybe tell her about a case I was involved in. I kept it upbeat. I never reminded her of her challenge to me. I think I was afraid she would say that she had just meant it in principle and not a hard and fast date. I figured I would cross that bridge when I came to it. In the meantime, it kept me centered and focused on my goal of not fucking up.
With Stalone’s encouragement, which fell just short of an order, I got back on the multi-agency SWAT team. It was good to be back, at least for me. Brett Haston, who had been my Assistant Team Leader, had expectedly moved up to Team Leader. Stalone had called Brett at the agency he worked for to let him know I was filling one of Eaglenest’s slots on the team. I don’t know how Brett took it over the phone, but I knew how he was taking it with me standing in front of him.
“Hello, Dell.” It was professional. It was brief. And it was as cold as ice.
“Hey Brett. How’s it going?” I stuck out my hand and he took it. The handshake was firm but about as chilly as the greeting.
No use beating around the bush. “Brett, I’m not here to take back over. Put me where you want me. I just want to be in the best spot to serve the team.”
“That’s not what your boss said.”
I should have known. Maybe I had known on some level and just didn’t have the foresight to head it off. Hell, maybe deep down I really wanted the top spot again. But it didn’t matter. Getting some junior detective bumped to get a spot in Investigations was one thing, this was another.
“Who you going to believe, me or him?” It was a fair question and one that he would need to answer honestly, at least to himself, if it was going to work with me being on the team.
He finally nodded his head and smiled. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Good to be back.”
The team had progressed well with Brett in the lead. On our first practice day, I tried to hang in the rear as much as possible and stay low-key. In fact, I intentionally slowed down so as not to upstage anyone. I wanted to fit in here, not upset the applecart. I had proved everything I would ever need to prove to anyone, including myself. It was time to think about others for a change. Hey, another baby step forward, I thought.
Several of the guys on the team had the same concerns as Brett had voiced, but by the end of the first training day, I think I had put them all at rest. By the end of that day I was beat, but it felt good. It was the best I had felt doing SWAT stuff in a long time.
It was a warm, late-summer day. The kind of day you could only experience above eight thousand feet in the Rocky Mountains. It was what made the winters doable. I don’t ski, so as far as I was concerned snow sucked, which meant winter sucked. It flooded our community with rich assholes on vacation. I had always wondered why a normal person who had never had any contact with law enforcement, went completely stupid when they went on vacation. Summers were much better. Most of the people who came to our area to stay for the summer were older, e.g., less trouble.
The sky was blue, the birds were singing, life was good. I had to admit that even if the weather had been crappy and the birds had all died from some bird disease, I still would have been in a good mood. It was my one-year anniversary with the P.D. That was no reason in and of itself to put me in a good mood. But it was also the anniversary of my talk with Tish at the hospital. I had managed to be stable and keep my job, and life, in order for a whole year. I had concluded that I needed to drive to Grand Junction and talk to her about the whole thing in person. This wasn’t something that could be settled over the phone. Besides, if I needed to beg, I was prepared for that too, and that was always better done in person. I had also just about decided to not call ahead either, but to simply show up. I was still thinking on that one. I had pretty much reached a decision to not call when a voice in the back of my head told me I really should. I listened to it and picked up the phone.
“Mercy Hospital.”
“Emergency Room nurse’s station, please.”
I listened to some kind of elevator music until some lady picked up the phone. “Can I speak to Mrs. Moffat? This is her husband.” I added.
“I’m sorry, she didn’t work today.”
I had prepared myself for all kinds of contingencies, but this wasn’t one of them. Tish never missed work. “Is she okay?”
“I don’t know, she’s just not here.”
“I’ll try her at home.” I called Tish’s apartment, but no one answered. I started to call her cell but for some reason just couldn’t bring myself to do it. Something seemed off, and I wasn’t prepared for disappointment.
“Happy anniversary.” It was Randy, who had just walked into my office.
“Thanks. How’d you know?” I hadn’t told anyone.
“I’m a detective. I know everything. You want to go get some dinner? My treat.”
“No thanks. I thought I had some plans, but now I’m not sure. But I want to keep it open. Thanks anyway.”
“All right. Well if you change your mind and want some company, give me a call at home.”
Randy was turning out to be a good friend.
I called Tish’s house two more times before I left work. With each call, I let the phone ring about twenty times before I hung up.
The drive home was a drag and I started feeling very sorry for myself. I guess I had put so much stock in this date that it was destined to not live up to my expectations. I even gave a quick thought to stopping at the liquor store but kept going. No use blowing it now, I thought.
I was trying to regroup and figure out what I wanted to do. It was Friday night, which again normally didn’t mean anything, but this was one I really didn’t want to spend alone. I guess I could call Randy, or maybe drop in on Toby and Peg.
I had just about decided to go straight to Toby’s place but then decided to go change into jeans first. When I turned onto the short cul-de-sac my condo was on, I stopped right in the middle of the road. Sitting in my driveway was Tish’s car. She was leaning up against the hood with a smile on her face and a bag full of take-out. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Typically, I would have fought them off like a bad guy with a knife. It’s a guy thing. I knew I was going to lose that fight this time, though. By the time I parked and got to her, the tears were running down my cheeks. I hugged her, then kissed her hard like I hadn’t done in years. The nice thing was she kissed me back.
“Can I come in?”
“Just try leaving. I called you at work and home. You weren’t there.”
“I don’t work there anymore. I quit.”
&n
bsp; I stopped walking and looked at her. “Where you working now?”
“I went over today and got my old job back at the clinic here.”
I knew what it meant. At least I hoped I knew what it meant. She didn’t make me beg.
“Happy anniversary. One year, right?”
We stayed up all night and talked. We hadn’t done that since early in our marriage. I told her about where my life had taken me, Sarge, the incident at Blackman’s, and for the first time I broke my silence and told her everything about what happened in St. Louis. She told me about some of the things she had learned about herself as well. I had never known she had so many self-doubts. She had always been the steady one, and I just thought she had everything figured out. We made love that night for the first time in just over two years. It was the first time for both of us since the last time we had been together. It was as good as it had ever been. Maybe better. The only thing better than getting the most beautiful girl in the world, is getting her back again after you’ve lost her.
Chapter Ten
If someone had told me the day before I walked into the JP Goldstein building that in eighteen months I would have gone from national hero, to losing my wife and questioning my sanity, I would have told them they were crazy. And eighteen months later, if someone had told me that in another twelve months I would have my wife back and my sanity, I would have told them they were dreaming. Especially if they added that I would also be working for Chief Stalone.
In some ways I did feel like I was dreaming. Not only did I have it all back—at least everything that was important—I was content. All that unsettledness and anger that used to drive my life seemed to have dissipated over the last two-and-a-half years. I was finally growing up. I also figured out I could be a pretty good detective without threatening people and cussing them out. It still happened on occasion, but it wasn’t my default position anymore.