secrets.
*
“Come in, Mitchell,” Rebecca said as she slid open a drawer under the counter that held an automatic coffee machine and discovered prepackaged coffee packets of a better than average brand. She didn’t speak again until she had poured water into the coffeepot from the cooler in the corner of the room. Then she turned to face the officer who was standing just inside the room, shoulders back, hands straight down at her sides. It was a posture that most young officers assumed when dealing with superiors, but on her it looked a lot more natural.
“What did you do before you were a cop?” Rebecca asked, walking to the windows and glancing at the view. Breathtaking. For an instant she thought of Catherine and wondered what she was doing at that moment. She looked away from the pristine sky and glistening water.
“I was in the Army, ma’am.”
“Enlisted?”
“No, ma’am. Second Lieutenant.”
“West Point?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Serve long?”
A tightening of the muscles along her jaw that might have gone unnoticed, but Rebecca was looking for it. “No, ma’am. Just over a year.”
Rebecca studied her, noting the faint bruise on her left cheek that was more obvious in the sunlight coming through the windows than it had been previously. Another untold story.
“How long have you been on the force?”
“Eight months.”
Allowing for her time in the Academy, she was probably in her mid-twenties, which was about how old she looked. Rebecca poured herself a cup of coffee. “Have some coffee, Mitchell.”
Mitchell glanced at her, surprised. “Thank you, ma—”
“And you can relax. Save the sirs and all that for the brass. They like it. The rest of us are just cops, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So. Want to tell me what your situation is?” She could find out, and eventually she’d take a look at the kid’s file, but she wanted to hear it from her. You could tell a lot about a person by the way they explained their problems.
“I’ve been taken off street duty while the review board investigates a complaint against me,” Mitchell answered immediately.
Which probably means someone in the department is covering their ass instead of supporting one of our own. If Mitchell has done anything even remotely prosecutable, they’d have suspended her, not just reassigned her . “Justifiable?”
“I subdued a suspect with force. He’s complaining.”
Well, that explains the bruise. Very smart answer, too. She isn’t excusing herself, and she isn’t admitting guilt. If she survives this inquiry, she’s got a future in the department . Rebecca sipped her coffee. “Okay. This assignment will probably be deadly boring, but it’s what you’ve drawn. For the moment, you’ll be based here. If Sloan and McBride need you to do anything for them, go ahead. You can run backgrounds at the one-eight if there’s something they can’t find out for themselves.”
“I doubt they’ll need that ,” Mitchell remarked. “They’re hackers.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured, too. But just the same, if they need something that could later be construed as chain of evidence, try to make it look official. Go through channels and keep some kind of log so we know what the hell we have to work with if we ever need to get a warrant.”
“Roger.”
“I’ll be in and out. Page me if something comes up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” For the first time Mitchell looked uneasy. “I have to report for my psych eval three times a week until I’m cleared. I’ll advise you of—”
“Just go, Mitchell,” Rebecca said brusquely. I know all about it. With any luck we won’t run into each other in Whitaker’s waiting room .
Mitchell stiffened at the change in the detective’s tone. “Yes, ma’am. Understood.”
“Hopefully, we’ll all be off this duty in a week or so. Be here at 0730 tomorrow.” She tossed her cup in the trash and walked out, leaving Mitchell to stare after her. She had three
*
“Come in, Mitchell,” Rebecca said as she slid open a drawer under the counter that held an automatic coffee machine and discovered prepackaged coffee packets of a better than average brand. She didn’t speak again until she had poured water into the coffeepot from the cooler in the corner of the room. Then she turned to face the officer who was standing just inside the room, shoulders back, hands straight down at her sides. It was a posture that most young officers assumed when dealing with superiors, but on her it looked a lot more natural.
“What did you do before you were a cop?” Rebecca asked, walking to the windows and glancing at the view. Breathtaking. For an instant she thought of Catherine and wondered what she was doing at that moment. She looked away from the pristine sky and glistening water.
“I was in the Army, ma’am.”
“Enlisted?”
“No, ma’am. Second Lieutenant.”
“West Point?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Serve long?”
A tightening of the muscles along her jaw that might have gone unnoticed, but Rebecca was looking for it. “No, ma’am. Just over a year.”
Rebecca studied her, noting the faint bruise on her left cheek that was more obvious in the sunlight coming through the windows than it had been previously. Another untold story.
“How long have you been on the force?”
“Eight months.”
Allowing for her time in the Academy, she was probably in her mid-twenties, which was about how old she looked. Rebecca poured herself a cup of coffee. “Have some coffee, Mitchell.”
Mitchell glanced at her, surprised. “Thank you, ma—”
“And you can relax. Save the sirs and all that for the brass. They like it. The rest of us are just cops, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So. Want to tell me what your situation is?” She could find out, and eventually she’d take a look at the kid’s file, but she wanted to hear it from her. You could tell a lot about a person by the way they explained their problems.
“I’ve been taken off street duty while the review board investigates a complaint against me,” Mitchell answered immediately.
Which probably means someone in the department is covering their ass instead of supporting one of our own. If Mitchell has done anything even remotely prosecutable, they’d have suspended her, not just reassigned her . “Justifiable?”
“I subdued a suspect with force. He’s complaining.”
Well, that explains the bruise. Very smart answer, too. She isn’t excusing herself, and she isn’t admitting guilt. If she survives this inquiry, she’s got a future in the department . Rebecca sipped her coffee. “Okay. This assignment will probably be deadly boring, but it’s what you’ve drawn. For the moment, you’ll be based here. If Sloan and McBride need you to do anything for them, go ahead. You can run backgrounds at the one-eight if there’s something they can’t find out for themselves.”
“I doubt they’ll need that ,” Mitchell remarked. “They’re hackers.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured, too. But just the same, if they need something that could later be construed as chain of evidence, try to make it look official. Go through channels and keep some kind of log so we know what the hell we have to work with if we ever need to get a warrant.”
“Roger.”
“I’ll be in and out. Page me if something comes up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” For the first time Mitchell looked uneasy. “I have to report for my psych eval three times a week until I’m cleared. I’ll advise you of—”
“Just go, Mitchell,” Rebecca said brusquely. I know all about it. With any luck we won’t run into each other in Whitaker’s waiting room .
Mitchell stiffened at the change in the detective’s tone. “Yes, ma’am. Understood.”
“Hopefully, we’ll all be off this duty in a week or so. Be here at 0730 tomorrow.” She tossed her cup in the trash and walked out, leaving Mitchell to stare after her. She had three
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