The two stared eye to eye for several seconds, but Sally gave in and looked down and away first. Her eyes took on a brief distant look as she considered how she had acted.
Pointing a finger at the ground beside them, Jackie finished her off. “Know this. I will not stand by his hospital bed while you give him shit about your landscaping. So, you can either stop your bullshit or fuck off back home.”
Sally’s face trembled for a brief second.
Jackie took a step back and turned to the mirror. Cold and sharp as a shard of ice. “What happened to you, Sally? You weren’t always like this, were you?”
A tear streamed down Sally’s cheek. “Don’t concern yourself.” She turned to leave. “I’ll take a cab home.”
In the reflection of the mirror, Jackie watched her leave. When the door closed, she puffed out a short breath. “Unbelievable.” Since Evan’s death, she’d been more likely to snap on someone. She felt bad for a moment and considered going after her but thought better of it. Evan used to have a way of talking her through things like this that widened her perspective. She used to tell him he would make a good diplomat. A small smile and she looked down at her hands, lost in thought. She wondered what he would say about all this.
She inhaled quickly through her nose and turned her attention back to the mirror. Her hair had loosed a little from the elastic tie. She reached back and pulled it free. The day’s events had done nothing to diminish her beauty. Looking back at her from the mirror were the Pacific blue eyes that had invited her fiancé to swim in the ocean of her love. Or so he always used to say. But Jackie worried that she looked a little unwound. She did her best to straighten things out before she returned to Clay’s room.
Now that she had witnessed firsthand what Clay had been dealing with, it made her wonder about a man she didn’t know. A man who could put up with that... woman, all while getting the job done. Jackie found him intriguing. She wanted to learn more about this apparently patient man who hadn’t hesitated to throw himself in front of a moving truck to save someone he didn’t even know.
𓂓
Streets’ mind reeled after leaving Detective Slade’s office, but a text notification interrupted his thoughts. He stopped at the top of the stairwell. A message from Sean informed him that Clay was feeling better, and that the paralysis was temporary. Although he had a concussion, he was moving his legs and feet.
“Good news,” Streets murmured to himself. Glad to know his brother’s employer and mentor would make a full recovery. He bounded down the steps and headed out into the maze of the precinct. He wound through the network of glass offices to find his desk. As he settled in, Streets noticed Officer Hiney at his desk. There were only a few other officers scattered around the ground floor. The various clicks and taps and shuffles and low murmurs of conversation throughout the building coalesced into a relaxing static of background noise that helped him focus. Streets relished these occasional measures of relative peace and quiet. He appreciated the open feel of the precinct. You could sit just about anywhere on the ground floor and have a nearly unobstructed view of the outside, interrupted only by the evenly spaced columns that supported the second floor. He gave a fleeting thought to the paperwork he needed to do, then his gaze drifted up to look out through the windows. There were a handful of people walking up or down the sidewalks heading for a late morning jolt of caffeine or maybe to catch the bus, which had a stop across the street. As the thought crossed his mind, a bus pulled up to gather the handful of passengers waiting to board. He wondered what they might be doing on a bus at this hour. It was too late in the day to start most jobs...
As he sat in his meditative reverie, the bus pulled away from the stop to reveal a worn bench with an advertisement on the seat back. For a long time, it displayed a picture of a lawyer, which had become tattered and worn over the months and years. But today, there was a new sign: ‘PSYCHIC’ it said in large bold all caps letters. Then below that, it said ‘Readings, Astrology, Tarot’, followed by a phone number.
Streets’ pulse surged. Pieces and parts of a game plan started to fall into place. Of course! In the few paranormal TV shows he’d seen, someone usually explained what happened. It wasn’t a psychic but a... a medium! He grabbed his phone and dialed the number from the bench.
“Good morning,” the sultry female voice said on the other end.
Streets braced himself. “Good morning. I saw your sign and wanted to ask a question.”
“Ummm, okay, go ahead,” she purred.
“It’s about a...” Streets paused for a moment, searching for the right word. “Uh... a spirit?”
“Mmmm, sorry, but I can’t help with that,” the voice said flatly.
“Okay, I apologize. I just need some advice and I’m not sure what to do. Maybe you can point me in the right direction.” Streets shocked himself with his admission to the stranger.
After a short pause, the woman answered, “If I can.”
He decided to continue the strategic honesty. “I’m a local police officer investigating an incident. I need analysis of an image captured in a video.” Streets felt like he could sense the woman on the other end relax.
“Ah, you’re looking for a medium,” the voice responded.
“Yes, that’s right, a medium.”
“There are two in town that I know of. I’m not close to either one. I’ll give you both their names and numbers. You decide which is best for you.”
“Okay,” Streets agreed and took down the information on his pad.
“If you wish to make a love donation, you can visit my website,” she added.
“Thank you,” he said as he hung up.
He glanced back over at the bench sign. That’s an unusual coincidence. Streets decided to wrap up his backlog of paperwork before heading over to the courthouse to attend the bond hearing for John the driver. Afterwards he would begin the task of looking up references online and researching the police database to see what he could find out about these so-called mediums.
𓂓
After the interrogation, Officer Hines made his way back to the precinct. He stopped by his desk and regarded the stack of overdue paperwork. He despised the task but knew it needed to be done. “Oh well, what’s a couple more days?” he grumbled to himself. Besides, he had something more important to take care of. He looked up and scanned the network of glass offices. Not much going on, but he did notice Sarge at his desk dutifully reviewing his paperwork.
The hard sound of a door clicking shut and Hine’s head flicked toward Officer Street moving through the cubicles—a noticeable bounce in his step. A telling expression of mood he rarely saw from the well-reserved senior officer. Why is this guy so happy? Maybe he’s pleased with himself about making a drug bust. Well, he’s about to be disappointed. Hines sneered and a gleeful snicker snuck out undetected by the few others in the precinct. Oh, how I love running the chessboard. With a smug grin on his face, Officer Hines turned his attention back to Sarge and headed over for a quick word. He pulled a fresh toothpick from the box in his pocket, setting it between his teeth.
𓂓
Sarge had been a dedicated officer for many years, until an unfortunate gunshot wound to the hip forced him to take an admin job with the added responsibility of helping out the lieutenant as an assistant station manager. He often worked the desk and managed dispatch. At first, he’d taken his admin role seriously. But Sarge eventually became somewhat disgruntled because, after a few years passed, most of the newer officers showed little respect for his service and sacrifice. More than a few times he’d overheard wisecracks about the ‘internal paperwork police’ and ‘officer secretary’.
Hines, on the other hand, had recognized an opportunity and befriended the psychologically embattled Sarge, slowly gaining his trust. It wasn’t long before Sarge began ventilating his many frustrations and Hines had listened dutifully. Eventually, Hines took to inviting him out for beers. “Me and a few of the guys hang out at the 6in1 pub on Wednesdays. You know it?”
“Yeah, everyone does.” Sarge refused at first, but ultimately relented.
After one particularly painful day when he’d endured the latest insults from a new officer, Sarge agreed to go. It’d been too long since he belted a few down with the boys. He headed down to the 6in1 with Hines and got introduced around. Although he didn’t realize it at the time, Sarge had met Officer Hines’ band of corrupt cops that evening.
Sarge quickly settled in among fellow disgruntled officers. Ventilating their frustrations over cheap draft beer was more therapeutic than Sarge could have imagined. I finally found my people, he thought more than once. Things began to look up. The insults became fewer. Sarge figured maybe he would be able to make it to retirement after all. Disarmed by the camaraderie, Sarge went ‘on the take’ without even realizing it.
“This round is on our sponsor.”
“Let me introduce you to a girl.”
“If you need a coupla bucks, let me know.”
