Mr. McStuffins? Seriously?
I’m tempted to kick Wright, but she’s on a call and left me a hot chocolate on the purple coaster Olivia crocheted for me, so I just nudge her foot under the desk.
She peeks over the monitors, the corner of her lips curling up. Her silver stud catches the light as she sticks her tongue out at me.
Wright’s set up is directly opposite mine and when we’re sitting down neither of us can actually see each other behind all the monitors. We each have seven screens, four for CAD (Computer Aided Dispatch), two for the phone and phone map, and one regular computer. It takes a hot second to get used to managing two keyboards and three mice, but I’ve been working here for five years now.
Wright got me an interview after my gran died and for a while it was the only thing that got me out of bed. I spent the latter half of my teens caring for my gran and after she died, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I went straight from breaking up with Tommy to end of life care. I hadn’t even begun to process the damage he’d done but coming here, helping people in similar situations, gave me purpose. Plus, I’m good at it.
In true nerd form, Wright and I met at computer club, so this set up is kind of perfect. You know, if you ignore the fact thateach call is gradually traumatizing me, death by a thousand cuts style.
I log in to the system and work the phones for the next couple of hours. I get off pretty easy with a couple of paramedic call outs and a missing kid who was found hiding in a supermarket freezer while I was still on the other end of the line.
It’s only when Wright swears that the hairs on my arms raise. She stands up, covering her mouthpiece as she says, “I got a DMW.”
Shit. That’s the tenth this week.I move around to her side of the desk and Connor and our boss Theresa rush over because, if you don’t include shootings, this is the worst sort of call we get.
DMW stands for Dead Man Walking because that’s exactly what the man who dared touch the woman Wright’s talking to should be.
“Okay Alyssa, keep breathing for me honey and look around. Tell me what you see.”
“Active?” I ask.
Wright nods and mutes herself. “She just woke up in an alley. He knocked her out afterwards.” For a second, all I can see is my mom lying dead in an alley, her body bloodied and broken. My dad next to her, shot through the head. Fifteen-year-old me thought seeing the photos from the crime scene would help. She was wrong.
To this day I think the case file should have come with a warning for idiotic teenagers. You know, just something simple.Caution: Looking at images of your dead parents is a bad idea.
Next to me, Theresa practically growls and I blink the image of my parents away and focus on the matter at hand. Theresa keeps her hair shaved, like Cynthia Erivo, with the cheekbones and skin tone to match. On the outside she’s fearsome but she’s soft hearted as hell once you get to know her. The only reasonshe’s mad now is because a woman’s been hurt. By a man. Again. Some days, it gets to us all.
Wright clacks her tongue piercing against her teeth. “She’s too scared to leave the alley.”
“Phone trace?” Connor asks, his ink black hair falling over his eyes as he braces himself against the desk.
Wright taps at her keyboard. “Working on it. She was out for lunch on Mabel Street.”
Theresa picks up the spare phone on the desk. “I’ll call the precinct, get them to do a drive by with the sirens on.” It’s a good idea. If Alyssa hears them, she might feel safe enough to leave the alley.
It takes us the next fifteen minutes but eventually we narrow down Alyssa’s location. She stays on the line with Wright until the paramedics and police arrive then says a tearful goodbye.
Wright tugs off her headset and goes blank. She stares at her monitors, her nostrils flaring a little as she breathes. One look at the state she’s in and Thersea orders her to take a break.
Wright shoots up from her desk, heading straight for Olivia’s office.
Theresa and I share a look. “Go with her. If she needs to take the rest of the day off, she can.”
I nod and rush after Wright.
She’s sitting on top of the filing cabinet in Olivia’s office/broom closet, her fingers white-knuckled around the edge of the metal. The space barely fits all three of us, so I squeeze myself behind Livi’s desk chair and lean against the wall.
Olivia twists in her seat and fingerspells in ASL.“DMW?”
I dip my chin, not needing to explain anything more. We both know those calls hit harder for Wright. At the moment, she’s staring straight at me, but I know from experience she’s not seeing anything.
Connor pops his head around the door, a coke can in hand. He gives Wright a once over, worry creasing his eyes. “I thought maybe she could use some sugar.”
Wright doesn’t even register him.
“Thanks Connor,” I say, and he places the coke on the filing cabinet next to her before gently closing the door behind him. I have a feeling Connor used to have a crush on Wright but he’s going steady with his boyfriend now and if the constant sketches he draws of Jonty are anything to go by, the two of them are endgame.
