by Lisa Ladew
“I’m looking for Jennifer Mansko.” A gruff male voice. One she didn’t recognize.
“That’s me.” She sat up straight and held a hand to her head, swaying slightly.
“Miss Mansko, this is Sergeant Foley from the Westwood Harbor Police Department. We would like you to come down as soon as possible to finish up the police recruit applicant process.”
Jen’s hand dropped from her head. Her eyes flew open, then found the piece of paper on the wall. “When, today?”
“Yes, if possible.”
“But my paper says the date for my lie detector test is the 24th at 2.”
“There’s been a change of plans Miss Mansko, we’re fast-tracking your application. It will all be explained once you get here. Can you come today?”
Jen considered only briefly. “I’ll be there. Is an hour OK?”
***
“Tell me exactly what his words were again, Jen,” Jerry said as he brought her a plate of breakfast and a large cup of coffee.
“He said my application has been fast-tracked and can I come to the station today.”
“What number did he call from?”
Jen showed Jerry the number on her phone. Jerry picked up his own phone from the table and dialed the number. He looked at her, his eyebrows drawn together, as the phone rang and rang. Finally he hung up. “Why would they fast-track your application?”
“Got me,” Jen said around a mouthful of egg. “But I have to jump in the shower if I’m going to make it on time.”
“Maybe I should go with you.”
Jen shot him a look. “No way! You can’t babysit me Jerry. I’m applying to be a cop, not a kindergarten student.”
Jerry considered, but seemed to know she was right. “If he meets you out front and tells you to get in his car or go anywhere other than the police station, don’t do it.”
Jen rolled her eyes. “I know that. What do you think I am, stu—” She broke off as Jerry gave her a look. Because two months ago that would have been good advice for Jen. But today? She didn’t need it. Warm gladness filled her chest as she realized she’d grown and changed without ever even becoming a cop. She wondered how far it extended. Could she tell a cheater from a non-cheater yet?
She grabbed her clothes and pulled her pink hair back into a bun, trying to make it less noticeable. She hadn’t wanted to dye it blonde until she absolutely had to. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt her today.
At the police station, she entered and told the desk sergeant why she was there. He directed her to the stark, empty hallway where she was supposed to wait, but only after several disapproving glances at her pink hair. She sat and waited, feeling very self-conscious and hating herself for it. And hating herself for hating herself for it. She wasn’t a cop yet. Pink hair was OK in the rest of the world.
She heard boot steps from the far end of the hallway and sat up straight, trying not to think of her hair. A cop entered the room - she spotted the gold badge and heavy gun on his belt immediately. Her every instinct was to smile at him, but she fought it. All through the testing so far nobody had smiled at her. Like it wasn’t allowed till you were done with recruit class or something. The man was tall, wearing blue jeans, heavy work boots, and a plain, dark t-shirt that stretched pleasingly over his obviously muscled chest. His dark, rumpled hair seemed a bit too long to be a cop, and his full lips were framed nicely with 5 o’clock shadow. She felt a spark light in her midsection and smiled at him without meaning to. A split-second after the smile crossed her lips she realized what was going on. The spark she felt was attraction and the automatic smile was her body’s way of betraying her by letting him know. She whipped her eyes straight forward and berated herself in her mind. God, Jen what is your problem? Does everything have to be about men all the time? And here? Now? Reel it in, girlfriend. This man is off-limits. In fact, all cops are off limits. Let’s just make that rule right now. That way you won’t mess up your new job, if you manage to get hired.
The man walked directly to the door but paused there for a moment, like he was waiting for something. Jen avoided looking at him. The last thing she wanted to see was how nicely he filled out his jeans. “Miss Mansko?”
“Yes. That’s me.” She stood up.
“In here please.” He opened the door and motioned her inside.
Jen took a few deep breaths and tried to get past the awkwardness of the moment. Inside was a regular desk and chair, with a small machine and dozens of wires coming out of it. A man sat at the desk. Jen barely noticed him. Her eyes were on the wires.
“Sit down please,” the man at the desk told her, motioning towards the chair. He began to strap wires on her arm, her fingers, and around her chest without a word. Jen tried to catch his eye, hoping for a little encouragement or some explanation. But he never looked at her face, only her wires. Her nerves zinged with anxiety, even though she knew she didn’t have anything to lie about.
The cop from the hallway sat in a chair along the back wall, watching. Jen’s wildly roving eyes caught his and he dipped his head and gave her a half smile, the encouragement she had been looking for. Jen felt her nerves calm right away. At least there was one friendly face in here. She gave him a small smile back and took a deep breath. You can do this. This is nothing, she told herself, feeling the sting of anxiety in her chest and throat anyway.
***
35 minutes later, Hunter sighed to himself. She was passing the polygraph test, there was no doubt about it, and her answers were showing her to be perfect police officer material. But undercover material? Maybe not so much. Despite her half surfer-girl, half party-girl looks, she really was not much of a party girl. No drugs. Lots of drinking when she was younger but not recently. Never broke the law, unless you counted skipping school. And all of those things meant she’d probably never hung out with a hard crowd. She didn’t seem to have a hard edge to her. So did that mean she was scrapped for the undercover role he had planned to put her in? Maybe.
He studied her face, trying to see past the sweet persona he now believed was the real her. She had her gorgeous hair pulled back tightly. Two spots of color, high up on her cheeks, gave her an exciting, flushed look. He tried to listen to her last few answers, but instead, found himself wondering if those two flushes of heat on her cheekbones would appear if he kissed her lips, or her neck, or maybe if he trailed kisses down over her collarbone towards her —
“Sgt. Foley, I’m all done. I’ll have the results to you in an hour.”
The examiner’s voice startled Hunter out of his inappropriate thoughts. He scrubbed his face with his hand and looked at the examiner, who had just swung his chair around so that Jennifer Mansko couldn’t see the front of him. He popped one thumb up against his chest and nodded at Hunter, indicating she had passed. Hunter nodded back. That was all he needed to know. Now to at least run her through the paces. If she reacted timidly or couldn’t pull off the fake buy, he would dismiss her. It would probably be for the best anyway, considering the effect she had on him.
He thanked the examiner, who was busy taking all the wires off of Miss Mansko, and stood up. Miss Mansko looked up at him expectantly with those big blue eyes, a bit of anxiety playing on her face. She wanted to be a police officer badly, he could tell. Why? he thought. A pretty, sweet woman like you? What in the world would make you want to rub your face in humanity’s worst and dullest?
“Follow me,” he told her, a bit more gruffly than he had intended. Oh well, if I can’t stop thinking about her, at least I can make sure she doesn’t know I’m thinking about her.
Hunter took off at a swift pace, leaving Jennifer Mansko three steps behind him. He traversed the familiar halls unconsciously, until he ended up in front of the office he shared with Sadler. Sadler was working out of one of the assistant chief’s offices today, screening another candidate. It was imperative that none of the candidates met each other until they’d all agreed to the terms and sworn secrecy of the undercover work.
“Sit,�
�� he told her, pointing out the chair across from his desk. He sank into his own long-abused chair and opened her file. “Miss Mansko, you are here today because you are being considered for undercover work.” He watched her closely as he said the last two words, wanting to note her reaction. She blinked, but otherwise kept a poker face.
“What this means is, if you pass my tests today, you could start working as a police officer as soon as tomorrow. We would swear you in, give you firearms training, a bit of self-defense training, run over the penal code, and by the end of the week have you working on the street in a secret capacity.” She nodded slightly, her face still a blank mask. Hunter felt surprised. After that polygraph test, he thought for sure this one wore her heart on her sleeve. “Are you interested in working undercover?”
He saw her swallow hard, then watched a few emotions flit past, deep in her eyes. They didn’t show up on her face though. Most people would have missed them completely, but he saw slight fear, a pushing aside of that fear, and a desire to know more. Fascinating.
“Yes, I’m interested,” she said simply. He nodded, impressed at her self-control. She was going to wait for him to lay out the terms.
So he did, reciting the spiel he knew by heart, he’d said it so often. “Undercover work is inherently dangerous. More dangerous than working as a patrol officer. We pick people before they make it to the recruit class because they aren’t recognizable as police officers by any of the criminal element. But that makes them more dangerous still. Because they’re green. And they’re unsure of themselves. If you pass all my tests and you decide you want to do this we will do our best to keep you safe. And we haven’t lost an undercover officer since I’ve been in charge of this unit. But you will have to listen carefully to every word I say, and follow my instructions to the letter. That gives you the best chance of making it to your recruit class unhurt.”
Her eyes widened slightly at this speech, but again she gave that little nod. “The two main disadvantages of working undercover are the danger, and the fact that your recruit class date is pushed back. But there are several advantages too. The first one is you get the standard salary plus $500 hazard pay a month. The second is that undercover work will always give you a promotional advantage over an officer who has never done undercover work. The third one is simple prestige. When you finally make it to your recruit class you will be given a leadership role, and possibly even a rank of Corporal to back it up, depending on how long you worked undercover and what kind of work you did.” He watched her closely. Here was where the leaders were always separated from the followers. As soon as he said leadership role, about a third of the applicants he interviewed sank down in their seats and let their eyes glaze over. These were the skaters, the pretenders, the ones who wanted the money but didn’t want to work for it, and certainly didn’t want to be in the spotlight. When that happened, he normally tried to make sure they never got an opportunity to be cops, much less undercover cops. The last thing the department needed was more work dodgers.
Jennifer Mansko did no such thing though. She sat up straighter and her eyes shined. He could see her trying on those Corporal stripes in her mind already. A wayward thought, as improper as a burp or a fart would have been, shot through his mind. We would have some ambitious … and beautiful children. Horrified, he stopped talking and shook his head slightly. He watched her face pinch in concern as she assessed him. Hoping what he had just thought wasn’t written all over his face, he pushed on.
“As for how long you will be undercover, the job I am considering you for could take as little as three months or as long as a year. There is one more test that I will have to administer to you to help determine if you would qualify for this assignment. Assuming you pass it, how many days would you need to come back to me with an yes or no answer about whether you would take the job or not?”
She never hesitated. “None. I don’t need to think about it. I’ll take it.” Her eyes met his forcefully and he saw she meant it. Danger be damned.
He nodded. “Let’s get started, then.”
Chapter 6
Jen looked around the little room for the 20th time, wondering when the test would start. At first her nerves rattled her, but now she was just bored. She wondered what Sgt. Foley’s first name was. She wondered how old he was. She wondered what kind of an assignment he was going to put her on, assuming she passed whatever this ‘test’ was. He’d put her in here, given her a handful of cash¸ and told her someone was going to come in the room shortly and she was supposed to buy whatever he was selling, no matter what. She had already counted the cash out three times. It was an assortment of hundreds, twenties, tens, fives, and ones, and it totaled $1000 even. She had put it on the shelf under her side of the counter, not wanting it in her pocket for some reason.
He'd said they would be evaluating her demeanor under pressure and her ability to think on her feet. She thought about that now. How do you evaluate demeanor under pressure? And ability to think on someone’s feet? If I get nervous am I canned? If I stutter, does that mean I can’t think on my feet?
She stood behind a type of counter that almost looked like a bar to her. The room had no windows and only one door. The walls were painted a dull, ugly brown. There was no chair. Nothing to look at. Nothing to do. Her stomach growled, reminding her it was well past noon and she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since she got here. I’ll bet that’s part of the test. They want to see if I’m going to complain. Not me. I want this job too much.
Her mind marveled again at undercover. They wanted her to be an undercover officer. Almost like Sara. She couldn’t believe it. Her. Jen Mansko. Her mother would freak if she knew. But she wasn’t going to tell her mother. No way. She would tell Jerry and Sara, and that was it. Wouldn’t Jerry be —
The door at the end of the hall slammed open, bouncing off the back wall and startling her. A man walked in, looking up and down — everywhere but her. His eyes slid over the ceiling, the walls, the counter. He was tall and graying, with close-shaved hair and cold eyes. His face looked young - too young for graying hair, but hard. He wore a black leather jacket, jeans, and black cowboy boots and he carried a cardboard box under one arm. He looked dirty, and dangerous. She took a step back, but immediately pushed herself forward again. Her heart slammed against her chest. She knew this was just a test, but the man still scared her. He looked like a criminal. He pushed right up to the other side of the counter she was standing behind and pulled his upper half over it a bit, looking past her to the floor. Then he finally stood up straight and looked her in the eyes, dropping his box on the counter. “Hi sweet thing. I heard you buy stuff.” A sick smile slid onto his face, and suddenly she was reminded of every slimy criminal in every action movie she’d ever seen. It was almost like he was playing the part of the bad guy. And doing a good job.
“Yes,” she said, and heard the waver in her own small voice. She saw his smile widen at her obvious fear and timidity. Heat like a fever swept her body. She knew she was already failing the test. And it had barely begun. Defeat clawed at her insides. I wanted it so bad, she cried inside her mind and realized that Sgt. Foley hadn’t said if she’d still get to go to recruit class if she failed the test to be an undercover officer. She felt hot, hateful tears claw at her eyes, trying to form and spill. The walls of the room suddenly loomed too large and the horrible brown color pushed in on her. Disappointment flooded her, like she had already been shown the door.
“Ah, fuck that. You couldn’t buy your own mother,” he said and gathered up his box, delight playing in his disgusting smile. He turned to go, and suddenly Sara’s face loomed in Jen’s mind. Jen heard her voice clearly in her head. He’s playing a part, Jen. You can too. Who’s your favorite bad-ass actress? Become her. This isn’t real. And even if it was, you could still fake it to make it. Jen couldn’t think of any bad-ass actress she liked, but she didn’t need to. She knew what bad-ass she wanted to be like. WWSD? What would Sara do? Sara would eat this jerkwat
er for breakfast, that’s what. She felt a coldness slip over her. It cooled the fever of her cheeks and eyes. She felt her mouth open and heard words drop out of it, like ice.
“Oh yeah?” She couldn’t quite bring herself to add asshole on to the end of it, although she wanted to very much. Instead, she grabbed the stack of bills under the counter and fanned it in front of her face. “Then where did I get all this change from?” Her innermost self, as if under a heavy blanket, cringed at the amateur jab, but it seemed to work. The man turned around, fixed his eyes on the money, and dropped the box back on the counter.
“OK, but you better not try to fuck me over,” he snarled, and pulled his leather jacket back so she could see a gun shoved in the waistband of his jeans. Her eyes flicked to it, but she didn’t allow herself to linger on it. He had a gun. Did she expect anything less? Well, actually she hadn’t known what to expect, but she knew they were trying to shock and scare her. Don’t give in, you’re doing great, Sara said in her mind. “I wouldn't dream of it,” She told him, her voice strong and clear now.
She looked at the box, but instead he reached inside his jacket and pulled out what looked like a dirty bag of plastic. He slapped it on the counter. “What’ll you give me for it?”
She picked it up, although her eyes had already told her what it was. Marijuana. A lot. Not that she knew anything about how to price marijuana. She’d never even smoked it, afraid in high school that if she got caught she’d be kicked off the volleyball team. But she knew what it looked like. She had plenty of friends who had smoked it. She hefted it in her hand like she had a clue what she was doing.
“How much you want for it?”
He named his figure without hesitation. “$1200.”