by J. M. Madden
I was ready to puke too. Vomit and other bodily fluids tended to make my stomach turn, or I’d have been a nurse or a doctor. “Shit.”
“Nope, that’s puke.” Harper laughed aloud.
Everyone turned to look at us. Then Burke joined us.
“What the hell?”
I said, “I don't think we’ll be getting the story from him.”
“No need. The witnesses by the fire said the woman was actually the aggressor. We can take the cuffs off the passed out guy, and I’m taking the woman back to the station, to book her on domestic battery.” Burke leaned down and took the cuffs off. The man twitched, but didn’t wake up.
“You sure he’s okay?” I asked.
From his backside, Harper leaned down and checked his pulse, then put the beer can he’d been drinking from in front of this nose and mouth. I could see the condensation as he breathed in and out.
“He’s fine.” She looked behind her. “One of you people want to come and keep an eye on your friend here?”
They all looked at each other, then a younger guy of about twenty stepped forward and said, “I’ll take care of him. Are you taking my mom to jail?”
Burke asked, “Is that your mom in the back of my car?” He pointed to his vehicle.
The kid nodded.
“You want to talk to her before I take her in?”
He shook his head and looked at the ground.
We trailed after Burke as he walked to his car. Harper asked, “Anymore complaints on that house on M Street?”
“Oh, yeah, I was going to tell you, after a month of watching that place, there were more complaints this week. I wrote up the affidavit.” Burke looked back at his prisoner. “Why don’t you let the kid drive your car back, and you can ride with me. Easier than transferring her to your car. I hate transporting women.”
There was a protocol for transporting the opposite sex. We had to call in to dispatch with our location and log when we left the scene, then call in again to log when we arrived. The number of minutes to get from location to location would be determined, to make sure no one made a stop on the side to do the nasty, or any other illegal shit.
I’d have killed to be a fly on the dashboard of that car as they drove back to the station. The M Street house had been the bane of our existence throughout the week. Calls about the traffic, the people coming and going at all hours, and general complaints that they thought it was a crack house.
I hoped we had a warrant and were going to bust the joint, but I wasn’t privy to that conversation.
There were no other issues at this call, so we got back in our cars and went on to make the rest of Uncertain safe for its citizens.
I wasn’t sure why I was so eager for a big bust, knowing there’d be plenty to come in the future, but I can say, I never expected what happened that night.
THREE
Before we’d even started our shift that night, Burke had filled out the affidavit for the warrant on the house on M. By the time we did the paperwork and got our domestic assault into the holding cell, Burke had the warrant.
The plan was to go to the house after dark, so the neighbors wouldn’t see us coming, and warn the occupants of the house. As Harper said, it would suck to have them flush all of the evidence down the toilet and have nothing for our efforts. It had happened before, and it would happen again.
We assembled at the office, and Burke laid out the strategy for taking down the house. I was more excited than I should have been. The butterflies in my stomach had me wishing I hadn't eaten the second helping of Dutch Apple pie at my uncle’s place on my dinner break.
When we jumped in the car, and Harper still let me drive, my focus streamlined. We were going into the most dangerous situation yet, and I’d only been a real cop less than a week. If the night went well, I’d have three days off to mentally pat myself (and the others) on the back. If not, I had three days to reassess if this was really the career for me.
The plan in place, and me being the rookie, I held the battering ram. It was a “no knock” warrant, which meant we weren’t required to announce ourselves. We’d parked far enough away from the house, and around the block, so as not to alert the residents of the neighborhood, but as the first cops went around the back of the building, and we walked up the porch steps, someone next door started yelling.
“Cops, cops!”
“Go, go, go,” Burke yelled. “Get the damn door open.”
I slammed the battering ram into the front door, and it splintered like balsa wood. I had barely stepped a foot to the side when Harper and Wyatt burst through the door.
The cacophony of yelling and screaming made the situation sound like chaos. In a way, it was chaos. Everyone running in every which direction. I wasn't sure where the bathroom was, but I’d bet more than one person ran in that direction. Others ran to the back door of the house. We didn’t bother with them, because our backup at the side and back yards would be there to snag them. Our concern was with the interior of the home.
Once the screaming died down, two men were on the living room floor in handcuffs. Wyatt’s team was good. I didn’t have a part in the bust, other than getting the door opened, so I stood with the ram in my hand and waited for directions. As a rookie, I was a liability, not an asset.
Assessing the room, I looked to my left and saw Harper bringing a woman down the stairs. She wore floral stretch pants with a navy, green, and white color palette and a spaghetti strap tee in white, or partially white. It was so stained it was difficult to tell if it was really white or not. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted. I found it strange that she looked like she hadn’t washed or cleaned her clothes in weeks, yet her toenails were a bright pink.
When I looked up and saw the grimace on her face, I also saw recognition. We recognized one another immediately. I continued to stare at her, but she looked at the ground.
“Claire?” I couldn’t believe it was the same Claire Hoffman I’d known when we were kids.
She nodded almost imperceptibly, but didn’t look up.
As Harper walked by, she said, “Friends?”
I shrugged, and let them pass without saying another word.
Claire had stringy blonde-ish hair hanging down to her shoulders. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in days or trimmed professionally in years. Just ragged ends that had likely broken off from lack of nutrition. From the looks of her dark roots, she’d been lightening it somehow. No way she was going to a salon, as she didn’t look like she’d waste good drug money on professional hair color.
The Hoffmans, Claire’s parents, had a small cabin on Fiddler’s lake, and that’s how we met. It was only two houses down from my uncle’s place. Claire and I laughed away the summers, riding the tube behind my uncle’s boat or early morning fishing. We shared secrets, and dreams, and even suntan lotion. I’d had a huge crush on her and went into depression every August when my parents brought me back home.
The crush I had on Claire faded in the months after school started, then started again the first time I saw her in June, the next year. I never had the nerve to tell her how I felt. How I’d longed to touch her sun-bleached hair, hold her hand, and maybe even steal a kiss. I was too young and shy to do or say anything.
One summer I begged them to let me live with my uncle year round and go to school in Uncertain. My parents said no, and it was only another year before I quit going to the lake for the summer. Once I started high school, my schedule was too busy for me to spend the summers in Uncertain.
Over the years I’d thought about her periodically, especially when we’d visit Uncle Isaac, but her parents had sold the cabin, and I never saw her again. I’d even looked her up on Facebook a few times, but her name didn’t come up. I’d wondered what had happened to her, who she’d married (if she had married at all), or if she’d stayed in Uncertain. I’d never have guessed she’d be a junkie, or that we’d be arresting her in a drug raid.
I wanted her to look at me.
I wanted to see if there was any hope left in her blue eyes or if all hope had faded years ago. But she refused to look in my direction.
The yelling started again, and I ran up the stairs. I had the ram in my hand still, but I’d flipped the snap on my holster and had my gun ready in my right hand. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw Officer Dornan in a tug of war with a tall, skinny guy wearing only threadbare boxer shorts. I glimpsed the guy’s privates a few times as the fly of his boxers stretched open during the confrontation. I dropped the battering ram and pulled the Taser from my belt.
It was obvious, Dornan wasn’t able to get to his Taser as he was trying to keep Boxer Boy from getting his gun. I aimed and tagged Boxer Boy dead center between his shoulder blades. For one, maybe two seconds, he froze. It was enough time for Dornan to free himself, but then Boxer Boy blew through the jolt of electricity like a man possessed.
This was the problem with drugs. They made a person feel invincible, and Boxer Boy wasn’t about to let fifty thousand volts of electricity ruin his high. I sent another jolt that dropped him to the floor. Dornan pounced and had Boxer Boy’s hands behind his back and the cuffs wrapped around his wrists before I could blink. Damn his technique was good. I’d have to ask him about that. Boxer Boy didn’t even realize he’d been cuffed until it was too late to fight.
I stepped forward and grabbed the guy by one arm as Dornan grabbed the other, and we lifted him off the floor. I saw him look up at me with disdain, then roll his eyes and go limp. He wasn’t going to make it easy on us.
“Go ahead douche bag, I’m adding resisting arrest to your list of charges.”
He decided to come to, just long enough to look up and spit at Dornan. That didn’t go over well at all. Dornan dropped his side of the guy and pulled a handkerchief from his front pocket. “Add assault on a police officer,” he said as he tied the handkerchief around the guy’s face. “Oh, wait, you already have the assault charge.”
I noticed the saliva had landed on Dornan’s chest camera, and I looked down to be sure I’d turned mine on. I had. Harper had made sure it was so routine I didn’t even remember turning it on. It’s just what I did every time I exited the car, like locking the door. Harper had trained me well to this point.
What she hadn’t talked to me about was what happened when you knew the subject you were arresting, and at one time in your life you thought you were going to marry her.
FOUR
Claire sat in the back of Harper’s cruiser, rocking back and forth, her hair a mask in front of her face. She didn’t seem to even care. I was now in the passenger seat, and I wanted to reach back and move the hair for her, but the cage was in the way. It wasn’t a good idea anyway.
Harper drove back to the station. We called in the transport, even though Harper was female, and so was the prisoner. Harper kept looking at me with just her eyes. I was turned slightly sideways in the seat, watching Claire.
“You act like we’ve never had a person in the cage,” she said with a hint of annoyance.
“It’s not that.” I turned back around in my seat and tried to concentrate on anything but Claire. But my brain kept going back.
I think she was twelve or thirteen the last time I saw her. Tall and skinny with long straight hair and huge blue eyes. So much hope. I remember she said she wanted to be a doctor, or a nurse, or a dental hygienist. I laughed because I always knew I wanted to be a cop. I just happened to do it by way of the Army.
Everyone told me to get my education first, so I could go into the military as an officer. But if I knew what I wanted to do with my life, why get an education I didn’t need? The military was an excellent education on what I didn’t want for my life. I loved my guys, and loved the travel, but I didn’t love the sandbox. I wanted to be a shooter, a hero to someone, even if it was for rescuing their cat from a tree.
I looked back at Claire and wondered who would get her cat out of the tree, and how it got there in the first place.
That’s when Harper socked me hard on the shoulder. “That’s enough. We’ll be having a talk after we get her booked.”
The booking process didn’t take long. Harper and I escorted Claire to a holding cell, then Harper took over. She insisted I find something else to do.
The something else I found was running Claire’s arrest record. It was only a matter of seconds before I slumped in my chair.
“Buddy, you should be on cloud nine, not sitting there like you just lost your dog.” Sergeant Burke slapped me on the back.
I straightened. “It was thrilling. Exciting even. Maybe I’m coming down off the high.”
In truth, once I saw Claire, the high had worn off pretty quickly. Even taking down Boxer Boy, I had Claire’s welfare in my head. Was Boxer Boy her boyfriend? Husband? The person who got her in this mess?
“It happens. Like a drug, only in a good way. If you loved this, you’re in the right career.”
Wyatt had been in the military too. He’d done his tours in Iraq, or was it Afghanistan? I could never remember, and I wasn’t going to ask. Some guys didn’t like to be reminded of their time there.
Wyatt looked over my shoulder. “What are you researching?”
I couldn’t cover it up, so I told him. “The chick we arrested, I knew her when I was a kid. I was just looking up her arrest record.”
He leaned in closer. “Whoa, Claire Hamilton? She’s a regular. Soliciting, resisting, assault on an officer, you name it. I don't even have to look at the list, I’ve arrested her at least four times in the last five years.”
“I don’t see any drug charges though. And she’s definitely a junkie.” I kept scrolling.
“Those charges get dropped when they help us out.” Wyatt half-smiled.
“She’s a narc?”
“She’s just looking out for herself. Problem is, there comes a point where she has nothing more to give in return for the charges. She's about at that point now. She’s going to be transported to the jail to await trial, and she’ll stay there this time. Bet your bottom dollar she doesn't have money to make bail and definitely doesn’t have collateral.”
“What about family?”
“As in parents? She’s your age, Dane, she shouldn’t need her parents. She’s been on this road for a very long time. Some of those theft charges you see on there are from her grandmother. I’m sure her family washed their hands of her a long time ago.”
“What happened to her?” He knew everything else, I assumed he’d know this too.
“Who the hell knows? Life? She’s a junkie. If she doesn’t go to prison and die there, she’ll die on the streets soon.” He shook his head and walked away.
I thought he was callous, but then I probably would feel the same if she hadn’t been the girl of my wet dreams as a kid.
I closed the file and went to see if Harper finished processing the paperwork.
She locked Claire back in the holding cell as I walked up.
“Outside. Now.” She pointed to the door of the prisoner transport area.
I walked, she followed. As soon as we were in the parking area, she pointed me to the lawn outside.
It was dark, and I stood under the street lamp looking at Harper. Her skin looked blue.
“What the fuck is going on with you? And don’t tell me nothing. I see the way you looked at that girl.”
“I knew her once upon a time. That’s all.” I looked at the grass and moved the blades with the toe of my work boot.
“Bullshit. There’s more and you know it. Don’t lie to me little boy.” Harper’s head was about to explode.
“Fine, she was my childhood crush. I’m in shock, that’s all.” I looked her in the eyes when I responded this time. Telling the truth was easier because Harper was the queen of weeding out the bullshit.
“Heaven help me.” Harper frowned.
“I was just in shock at seeing her like that. I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”
Harper walked around in a small circle, looki
ng up at the light. “If you lived here as a kid, you’re going to run into people from your past on a regular basis. Some good, some bad, maybe many bad. And I’m not being negative, I’m being realistic. We don’t exactly hang out with the folks of high society in this job. Well, not that kind of high society anyway.”
“I know. And I only spent summers here, you know that. But this one hit me hard.” I couldn’t watch her crazy circle walking anymore and looked back to the building. “I guess, one day, I expected, we’d end up together. At twelve, I was enamored.”
“That’s so sweet.” Harper rolled her eyes and stopped walking. “But you need to shove that to the side. Remove your personal feelings. Someday you might have to arrest your brother, and it’ll suck, but you’ll do it for the greater good.”
“I have a sister.”
“You know what I meant.” She kicked me with her boot.
“Is it wrong that I want to talk to her? To help her?”
Harper stepped in front of me and gripped my shoulders. She stopped short of shaking me. “You can’t save them unless they want to be saved. And believe me, this girl, she don’t want anyone’s help.”
I couldn’t believe that. No one wanted to live the way she was living. Not forever. Nothing to look forward to, other than the next fix. And always looking over her shoulder. It had to get old.
“Can I at least talk to her?” I asked.
“There’s no law against you talking to her as a friend, but don’t talk to her about tonight. Nothing. Nada. Got it?”
I hoped I could have a chat with her. I needed to understand.
“But you’ll have to wait until she’s transported to the county jail. You aren’t going to rehash old times on my watch.” She looked at her watch. “Speaking of which, we need to get back out there and do our jobs.”
We walked back to Harper’s car, and for the first time since I started as a cop, I couldn’t wait for my shift to end.
FIVE
That night dragged on for years. By the time my shift was over, I decided going to the jail to talk to Claire was a bad idea. I wished my head had been in the same mind when I woke up later that day. Getting off work at six in the morning made my first day off feel weird. I was up by noon and thought about going to the courthouse to see what happened to Claire.