Taylor Made

by Alex Westmore

  Lowering her face, Delta laid her hands in her lap and struggled to acknowledge the fear; the dull, throbbing ache inside her. She had tried to bury it, rationalize it, and even attempted to blame it on someone else, but night after night, there it hung, like an anchor around her neck, threatening to choke the very life out of her.

  Slowly rising from her chair, Connie moved over and squatted in front of Delta, taking both of Delta’s hands in hers. “Come on.. It’s us. You were there for me when Elson fell. Let me be here for you now.”

  Delta stared down into the chocolate brown eyes of her dearest friend, knowing that she could tell Connie her deepest, darkest fear, and still remain safe.

  “Con, for the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of anything. I’m afraid for it. For me. There. I said it. I’m afraid for me.”

  “How so?”

  Delta thought back to the warehouse; back to the fear, the darkness, the moment of decision when she pulled the trigger to end another life for the first time. As she stood over the bullet-ridden body of a man who had been sent to kill her, she’d felt no remorse, no guilt, and offered no apologies for her actions. She’d done what she needed to do to survive. She had proven to herself that she was the fittest in the Darwinian sense of survival, and when she walked away from the corpse, she never looked back. As far as she was concerned, the man who had shot at her, who had intended on leaving her bloody body laying on the cement floor, got exactly what he deserved.

  Then came the second death at her hands.

  In a night as dark and as foreboding as the night Miles, her first partner, had been killed, in the millisecond it took for Delta to squeeze the trigger, a child pornographer had breathed his last breath. She had taken him out with a single .357 shot to the forehead. And still, Delta never blinked. She never looked back upon the body of a man who hurt children. And again, Delta had simply shrugged it off as part of her duty. Officer Delta Stevens killed another human being in the line of duty, and again, the public applauded its heroine, her superiors beamed, the media blitzed, and her colleagues patted her back. So...what was the problem?

  “Del?”

  Running her hand through her hair, Delta sighed. “I’m a little scared of how easy killing those men was for me. Do you have any idea what it’s like to put a bullet through some guy’s brains and not feel the least amount of pity? Their deaths don’t even affect me.”

  “Obviously they do, honey, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Delta shook her head. “But that’s just it, Con. It isn’t their deaths that bother me. It’s the fact that their deaths don’t bother me.”

  Connie rose. “You’re being a little hard on yourself, Del.”

  “Am I? I’ve tried and tried to feel sorry, even sad for having snuffed out two lives, but it’s all contrived. The bottom line is, I’m not sorry. And that scares the shit out of me. What have I become if I no longer have a conscience?”

  Gina looked over at Connie, who understood that it was Gina’s turn to have the floor. “Del, when you hit a dog with your car, you feel sad and upset; horrible that you’ve killed someone’s pet. But when you run over a snake, you probably don’t even look in the mirror because you know if you didn’t run it over, the person behind you would have. In the human jungle, Del, you killed two snakes, poisonous snakes who served no purpose but to harm others. Given that, why should there be any remorse?”

  Delta fiddled with the class ring she always wore on her right hand. “Because Carducci feels remorseful. He honestly feels sad that he had to kill that guy.”

  “Honey, Carducci doesn’t walk in your shoes. You’re being paid to keep the streets and the people on them safe from men like that. You didn’t kill either of them because you wanted to. You did it because you had to. Don’t you think you’re confusing duty with desire? You didn’t desire to kill them. It was your duty to stay alive and keep Carducci and that little girl safe as well. You had no choice.”

  “Besides,” Connie interjected, “don’t ever apologize for self- preservation. Both times, Del, your own life hung in the balance. You did what any of us would have done in the same situation. It doesn’t make you a killer. It makes you a survivor.”

  Delta nodded and sighed loudly. “I should have come to you two earlier. You always know how to make me see the big picture.”

  Gina laughed as she rose from the table. “Yes, but sometimes, it’s like trying to administer an eye exam to a rhino.” Collecting two of the empty coffee cups, Gina tousled Delta’s hair. “She’ll be back, Storm. In the meantime, stop creating pain in your life in order to have something to do.”

  Connie nodded, rising from her chair as well. “Right. Start focusing on being a carefree, happy-go-lucky auntie for a precious bundle of Native American joy.”

  Delta’s left eyebrow rose into a characteristic arch. “Happy-go-lucky?”

  Connie harrumphed. “Fine. I’ll settle for carefree.”

  Smiling, Delta downed the rest of her coffee before handing the mug to Connie. “Carefree?”

  Connie nodded.

  “It sure beats the hell out of being called a rhino.”

  Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Connie started for the kitchen. “You’ve been called far worse, my friend. Far, far worse.”

  When Delta entered the station, she welcomed the familiar sound of organized chaos. She loved this building with its mad scientists laboring in forensics on one wing, while beat cops, detectives, and undercover cops hauled in suspects down another wing. At any moment, this place might erupt in a cacophony of noises more varied than the chords in an orchestra. Accompanying this auditory discord was an energy which blasted through her like an explosion. This building, this department, this space in time was the heartbeat that gave law enforcement individuals a reason to wake up. Not much compared to the hum and buzz of a squad-room in a police department. Nothing could touch her like the adrenaline rush she got every time she came through those doors. And in the fourteen hours she’d been away from her beat, so much had changed in that world; a world which relied on her to keep it safe; a world which needed her strength and integrity. It was her world, and that’s precisely why she loved it.

  “Hey, there,” Connie greeted her, not looking up from the computer monitor. “Did our morning dose of coffee get you through the day?” Delta grinned. The question meant: Did we help assuage your fears? Pulling up a chair and sitting backwards on it, Delta rested her chin on its back.

  “Very much. Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank us, thank my uncle, Juan Valdez.”

  Delta didn’t need to look into Connie’s face to know when another one of her far-fetched family sagas was being tossed into the pool. As usual, as one of their bizarre friendship rituals, Delta took the bait. “Juan Valdez? You mean that Colombian coffee grower on television?” Connie nodded. No grin, no twitch, no facial movement at all. It was clear that Connie was not going to give this one up easily.

  “The very one. Did you know that his donkey is now twenty years old? He got Pedro as a gift from one of the growers when he first started his business.”

  “Pedro?” Delta studied Connie’s face, expecting her to crack. When she didn’t, Delta moved closer.

  “Sure,” Connie replied, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Pedro’s been in the family longer than any other pet. Juan goes everywhere with him.”

  Delta leaned closer. “Okay, Tonto, you can smile now. This is the farthest you’ve gone into one of your stupid family folk tales. I have to admit—I’m impressed.”

  Connie’s fingers stopped in midair as she turned to Delta. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, come off it, Con. I’ve swallowed your Gypsy aura-reading schtick, your Hungarian hat-maker ploy, and your ‘my great grandfather was an Indian scout for Custer’ routine. But I am not, do you hear me, I am not about to buy that the Mexican coffee grower on TV is in any way related to you and your extremely diverse family. No way.” Crossing
her arms over her chest, Delta shook her head.

  Connie shrugged and continued typing. “Fine. I don’t care if you believe me or not. His picture is on the wall in my mother’s house. And besides, he isn’t Mexican, he’s—”

  “Colombian. I know.”

  “Well, if you know that, then you’ll understand why I love coffee so much. Uncle Juan used to make all sorts of delicious coffee treats; coffee cake, coffee bread, coffee ice cream, coffee toffee—”

  “Enough!” Delta cried. “I give! You win! I believe your silly-ass story. Just please stop prattling on about your cousin.”

  Connie looked hurt. “It’s uncle. He’s my uncle.” “Then how come this is the first I’ve heard of him?” “You never asked. Besides, you never believe me.”

  Before Delta could utter her next comeback, a large, deeply Italian-looking young man strutted over to them.

  “Evening, ladies,” he opened, flashing his best Prince Charming smile. Tearing open a bag of chocolate chip cookies, he held it out to them.

  Delta looked in the bag and shook her head. She had never had a partner quite like Tony Carducci, who ate and ate and never seemed to gain an ounce. Tony had a physique most men envied, and an insatiable appetite for anything sweet.

  “No thanks,” Delta replied, watching Connie pluck a cookie from the bag. “You’d better watch your waistline, Con, or you’re gonna wind up with secretarial spread.”

  “I’m eating for two.”

  Delta’s left eyebrow rose in its characteristic question mark. “Oh? Since when? Until you know for sure, knock that shit off.”

  Tony stopped chewing his cookie and stared at Connie. “Are you preg—”

  Delta waved him off. “Don’t listen to anything she has to say tonight, Carducci. There’s a full moon and Con gets more far out than usual.”

  Connie crammed the rest of the cookie in her mouth and spoke with her mouth full. “Hey, speaking of full moons, did you know—”

  Delta covered her ears. “Run Tony! Run for your life. She’s over the edge, whacko, 5150, nuts, loco. She has a reservation for a rubber room, a straight jacket, and all the valium she can handle. Run, before she lures you into her storytelling web.”

  Tony started backing away. “Man, I never know when you guys are kidding. If you ask me, you’re both crazy.” With that, Tony and his cookie bag headed for the muster room.

  “Well, of all the nerve,” Connie said, grinning.

  “Hmph,” Delta offered, her grin matching Connie’s. “They just don’t teach manners in the academy anymore, do they?” Delta turned her chair around and put one foot on it. Tony wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep up with their verbal sparring. After seven years on the force together, and countless hours of off time, Connie and Delta worked together like a well-oiled machine. What one lacked, the other made up for, and it had been that way from the very start. Still grinning at Connie, Delta thought back to Connie’s first day on the job.

  No one really knew what a research and data specialist was, but most understood it was a bogus term the captain or the chief had used to obtain Connie’s immense talents. Consuela Dolores Maria Rivera spoke five languages, held a degree from MIT, earned a black belt in karate, and belonged to MENSA, a club for geniuses. By anyone’s standards, she was an exceptional catch. And on that first day, she had earned her wings within the hour.

  Delta remembered Connie standing at the computer watching someone try to extract information about a prominent city official who was suspected of being involved in a money-laundering scheme. The money he laundered was supposed to have come from a methamphetamine house that Vice had been watching for weeks. After ten minutes of watching the person at the computer come up empty-handed, Connie politely brushed him aside, sat down, and let her fingers start flying over the keyboard. Suddenly, she was tapped into the mainframe in City Hall.

  “You can’t do that,” the computer operator said.

  Connie didn’t flinch. “Can and have.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take the heat. If the captain has questions, I’ll give him answers. It’s simple math.”

  Delta had liked her instantly. She was full of the same fire and passion as Delta, and didn’t mind bending rules to get what she needed. Connie enjoyed a challenge and rose to the occasion every time one was presented to her. Delta liked this about the short Latina woman whose IQ was well over the line to genius. But unlike some other brainiacs, Connie had a heart and soul as well, and Delta soon learned to love both.

  Several weeks after they met, Delta finally asked Connie what everyone in the precinct was wondering. Why would someone with multiple degrees from a prestigious university like MIT go into the poor-paying field of law enforcement?

  “In the barrios, my people are dying everyday by violent crimes. When I graduated and returned home, my best friend spit in my face because I had found a way out. I had done what they all dream of doing. My friends, most of my family, and the other people I really cared about accused me of selling out. Like so many other ethnic minorities, my people were jealous, and instead of cheering me on, they wanted to hold me back and accused me of trying to be white.”

  “What happened?”

  “I thought about what they said. Sure, I have a degree and an ethnicity that will open a lot of doors, but what about an obligation to my people? What about the ones who aren’t as fortunate as I was? So, I looked around and decided I’d give law enforcement a chance to utilize my talents.”

  “And are they?”

  Connie grinned. “Not fully, but they’ll get there.”

  Her honesty and integrity were only two of the reasons Delta admired Connie Rivera. And soon, admiration at first sight became a friendship that no man or woman could sever. If there was anyone Delta would give her life for, it was Connie.

  Connie turned from her work and caught Delta’s expression. “Now, don’t go getting all soft on me before you brave the criminal element out there.”

  Delta shook the memories away like someone shaking water from an umbrella. “Soft? I was still thinking about Juan Perez.”

  “That’s Valdez.”

  “Wasn’t that a boat?”

  “No, that was the Exxon Valdez. Pronounced ‘deez.’ Geez, don’t you ever read the papers?”

  Pushing the chair under the desk, Delta turned and lightly touched Connie’s shoulder. “Why should I? I have you.”

  Connie grinned, but didn’t look up. “You’re kissing my butt, and that always makes me nervous.”

  Delta laughed. “Well, save your nerves for the baby.”

  Connie looked up at Delta, a warm smile replacing her mischievous grin. “You mean BIP?”

  “BIP?”

  “Yeah. Baby-in-progress.”

  Nodding, Delta glanced over Connie’s shoulder at the monitor. Some time ago, Connie had ceased playing computer adventure games during the lull in her work day; they were too painful a reminder of a case they both would rather forget.

  “I’m calling Megan as soon as I get home. I’ll send her your love.”

  “Good. You have a safe night out there, Storm, and don’t take any wooden nickels.”

  Delta started to walk away and then suddenly stopped. “You know, my dad used to say that to me. What does that really mean?”

  Connie turned back to the computer and chuckled. “Wooden nickels are useless, silly. It means don’t get fooled.”

  “Me, fooled? Never.” With that, Delta sauntered into the muster room and found her partner doing what he did best: flirting. Standing in the doorway, Delta shook her head. When she’d been bucked back to Training Patrol for some of her off-duty maneuvers, Tony had been her first and only trainee. He had come to her cocky, arrogant, sexist, and impossibly male. But, like a cardboard character being brought to life, Tony Carducci revealed a complex soul beneath all the mousse and cologne he slapped on daily. He possessed integrity, loyalty, and more importantly, he had the desire to gr
ow beyond the caricatured rookie Delta had first met. He’d come through when Delta needed him most. When the time came to put it all on the line, Tony Carducci didn’t hesitate, and that had made all the difference in the world.

  Before she could heckle him about his reputation as a flirt, the desk sergeant ambled up to the podium and called everyone’s attention. Muster went slowly, as it usually did at the end of fall, when rashes of burglaries, robberies, and auto thefts occurred. Like animals preparing to hibernate, many criminals began stockpiling their goods and drugs to prepare for winter. The usual California Indian summers meant they could stretch out their criminal activities that much longer.

  As Delta took notes, she marveled at how the weather affected the crime rate. There would be one more major marijuana harvest before year’s end, so all the dope dealers would be buying larger quantities. Colder weather meant less home invasions; even thieves tried to stay out of the cold. Car-jackings also went down during the cold months, but rapes were as high as ever. Like a broken scale, crime teetered and tottered to the different winter winds and summer breezes. Yet, whether teetering or tottering, one thing remained constant: the criminals were winning.

  For every crack house they busted, seven more opened. For every burglar caught, a dozen more went unpunished. In the never-ending battle against crime, it was no contest. Beat cops, detectives, and special units alike worked their asses off to barely make a dent. To many, it felt like pedaling backwards; but to Delta, there were signs of hope.

  Her hope came in the form of the arrests she’d made when shutting down a child pornography ring. It remained when the FBI, who bungled the initial bust, redeemed themselves with their incredible interrogative finesse, their networking abilities, and the arrests of almost forty others connected with the ring. The message the FBI sent to that particular brand of criminal was simple: don’t mess with our children. And the media loved it. But then, the media had always favored anything Delta was involved with.