something on the plate that changes our minds, let’s order a tow and get paper on it.” The law permits police to tow a vehicle and secure it while they apply for a search warrant. I asked Chuck, “What’s the best way to do this?”
“I don’t have my phone with me. It’s back in my car.”
He was looking at me like I could change that. I’d proudly avoided buying a cell phone for years. “You know I don’t have one of those things.”
“Let’s drive up the street to the gas station, and I’ll call Southeast Precinct to have a patrol officer come out and sit with the car until a tow comes. What’ll work best is if you drop me off at the Justice Center. I’ll start the warrant application while you drive Kendra home, then you can swing back by Central to review the warrant. Up to you whether you want to stick around for the search.”
It must’ve been a slow night for crime. It only took a few minutes for a patrol officer to meet us at Derringer’s. Kendra and I dropped Chuck off at the Justice Center, where Central Precinct is located. Then I hopped onto 1-84 and headed back out to Rockwood.
I walked Kendra to the front door, then remembered Chuck’s contraption. We went around back, and I pushed on the back door hard enough to pull off the tape, holding the knob tightly so the door wouldn’t swing open. Reaching my hand in at the bottom of the crack, I pulled out the glass of water. It was still full.
“Are you going to be OK here by yourself, Kendra?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m used to it since Mom started working nights.”
“What time does she normally get home?”
“A little bit after eleven.”
I looked at my watch. Kendra would only be alone for about an hour.
“OK. Make sure you tell her that’s Chuck’s car out front. He’ll probably have a patrol car drop him off so he can pick it up, so don’t get scared if you hear him leaving in the middle of the night.”
“Alright.”
“It was really nice meeting you, Kendra. You’re a very strong girl to be doing so well after what happened to you. I want you to know that all of the police and I are extremely impressed and very proud of you.”
She was smiling with her lips together, which I suspected was as close to beaming as Kendra got. “Thanks.”
“One of the MCT detectives will come by Friday morning and pick you up for grand jury, but I want you to know you can call me before that if you want.” I wrote my direct line on the back of one of my business cards for her and then waited at the back door until I heard her lock it.
Once I saw lights coming on inside the house, I pulled out of the driveway. My car was racking up more miles tonight than it usually saw in a month. I got back onto 1-84 and drove into downtown. Cones of red and green rippled on the Willamette, reflecting the lights of the Hawthorne Bridge. I grabbed a parking spot on the street across from the Justice Center and took the elevator to the MCT offices on the fifth floor.
Chuck was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on his computer screen. He didn’t hear me, and I paused a moment to take a good look at him. I suddenly realized that for years I hadn’t been seeing him clearly. In my mind, he still looked like he had in 1978; he had simply exchanged his football uniform for a badge and a shoulder holster. But the twenty extra pounds of bulk he’d carried as a kid were gone. His face was thinner, and lines had begun to mark his forehead and the corners of his eyes, just as they had mine.
Working as a cop wasn’t this year’s sport. Whether he entered law enforcement initially for the thrill, to rebel against his family, or out of sincere dedication, he was in it now for real. With his father’s contacts, he could have taken any career path he wanted in this city. But here he sat fifteen hours into his workday, at a metal and cork board cubicle, in front of an outdated monitor, waiting for his first lover to review his warrant so he
“I don’t have my phone with me. It’s back in my car.”
He was looking at me like I could change that. I’d proudly avoided buying a cell phone for years. “You know I don’t have one of those things.”
“Let’s drive up the street to the gas station, and I’ll call Southeast Precinct to have a patrol officer come out and sit with the car until a tow comes. What’ll work best is if you drop me off at the Justice Center. I’ll start the warrant application while you drive Kendra home, then you can swing back by Central to review the warrant. Up to you whether you want to stick around for the search.”
It must’ve been a slow night for crime. It only took a few minutes for a patrol officer to meet us at Derringer’s. Kendra and I dropped Chuck off at the Justice Center, where Central Precinct is located. Then I hopped onto 1-84 and headed back out to Rockwood.
I walked Kendra to the front door, then remembered Chuck’s contraption. We went around back, and I pushed on the back door hard enough to pull off the tape, holding the knob tightly so the door wouldn’t swing open. Reaching my hand in at the bottom of the crack, I pulled out the glass of water. It was still full.
“Are you going to be OK here by yourself, Kendra?”
She nodded. “Uh-huh. I’m used to it since Mom started working nights.”
“What time does she normally get home?”
“A little bit after eleven.”
I looked at my watch. Kendra would only be alone for about an hour.
“OK. Make sure you tell her that’s Chuck’s car out front. He’ll probably have a patrol car drop him off so he can pick it up, so don’t get scared if you hear him leaving in the middle of the night.”
“Alright.”
“It was really nice meeting you, Kendra. You’re a very strong girl to be doing so well after what happened to you. I want you to know that all of the police and I are extremely impressed and very proud of you.”
She was smiling with her lips together, which I suspected was as close to beaming as Kendra got. “Thanks.”
“One of the MCT detectives will come by Friday morning and pick you up for grand jury, but I want you to know you can call me before that if you want.” I wrote my direct line on the back of one of my business cards for her and then waited at the back door until I heard her lock it.
Once I saw lights coming on inside the house, I pulled out of the driveway. My car was racking up more miles tonight than it usually saw in a month. I got back onto 1-84 and drove into downtown. Cones of red and green rippled on the Willamette, reflecting the lights of the Hawthorne Bridge. I grabbed a parking spot on the street across from the Justice Center and took the elevator to the MCT offices on the fifth floor.
Chuck was sitting at his desk, his attention focused on his computer screen. He didn’t hear me, and I paused a moment to take a good look at him. I suddenly realized that for years I hadn’t been seeing him clearly. In my mind, he still looked like he had in 1978; he had simply exchanged his football uniform for a badge and a shoulder holster. But the twenty extra pounds of bulk he’d carried as a kid were gone. His face was thinner, and lines had begun to mark his forehead and the corners of his eyes, just as they had mine.
Working as a cop wasn’t this year’s sport. Whether he entered law enforcement initially for the thrill, to rebel against his family, or out of sincere dedication, he was in it now for real. With his father’s contacts, he could have taken any career path he wanted in this city. But here he sat fifteen hours into his workday, at a metal and cork board cubicle, in front of an outdated monitor, waiting for his first lover to review his warrant so he
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