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30
MARGARET
A year and a half later
A SIGH ESCAPES me as I shake my head, the rookie in front of me shuffling nervously as he stares down at the guy I had to take out because this boot was too scared to take action.
Sometimes I hate this job.
It’s been two years since I decided this was where I wanted to be in life. It’s been a long road to become who I am, but I don’t regret a single second of my time as an officer. I’ve taken on a lot of bad people in this city, putting away some serious assholes. It’s a dream job, one I’m sure I never would have pursued if not for the unique experiences I had.
That said, as I look at Nervous Nelly in front of me, I wonder if I made the right choice.
“What are they, Johnson?” I ask again, my impatience showing through in my tone. Only a true idiot can’t remember the Miranda rights, but I’ll wait, even though I don’t want to, until this guy gets it.
“Y-You have a right…” He takes a deep breath as I tilt my head to the heavens, hoping and praying for some damn patience. Probably shouldn’t say damn, but I can’t help it when idiots are present, which is far too often for me. “To remain…uh, silent.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I’m talking to the Big Man right now. I’d pray out loud if I were a complete bitch, but I at least still have some heart. Something about this job has hardened me a bit over time. It’s amazing how I’ve fallen into my role so well here. I have a duty, a real purpose, friends, and even though Johnson is maybe the worst rookie anyone’s ever seen, I have a lot to be thankful for.
“You have the right to remain silent.” I step in, picking the guy up off the street, ready to get a move on. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.” I pause briefly and glare at him. “You listening, Johnson?” He nods. “You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“Fuck off.” Good enough for me. I shove the man in the back of the patrol car and move around to the driver’s seat. Johnson isn’t to be trusted to drive my car, and I won’t even try it today. My mind isn’t in the right place for that.
“If you can’t remember the Miranda rights, why are you here?” I ask him before he has a chance to even get his belt on. Gray wore off on me with the gruffness, and it seems necessary to carry on a tradition of giving a rookie the go-around to make sure he’s cut out for the job.
“I can, I just froze. Sorry, ma’am.”
I shake my head, not sure what to say to that.
“Even I know them, man,” says the junkie in the back, fresh off of being caught shoplifting.
“Shut up,” I snap. My patience for men is running real thin today.
I think about how Gray left me behind after being promoted to detective. I’m happy for him, really, but I’m damn pissed I had to get someone else as a partner. I worked with Gray for a year before he left to move on. He still works here in Denver, but it’s not the same as having him at my six day in and day out.
We get back to the station and I sarcastically ask Johnson if he can book our guy. When he says he can, I ask, “You sure?”
He straightens his spine like I’m a drill sergeant, and I look at him funny. “Yes ma’am.” I roll my eyes at his back.
“Looks like you’ve taken my role pretty easily.”
I turn to the familiar voice and a smirk curves my lips. “Gray,” I say as he leans down to give me a hug. “What are you doing over here?” Detectives have their own special offices in another part of the building, one I don’t get over to very often, if at all.
“Have a new case I’m working on, looking for a PI I was supposed to work with but can’t seem to find him.”
“You mean Greg?” I ask, referring to the only PI the PD seems to work with, at least from what I’ve seen.
“Nah, someone new,” he says, looking at his phone. “Stokes.”
My breath stalls at the name. It can’t be what I’m thinking…it’s not an uncommon name. But it really is, my inner voice says.
“You know him?” Gray asks when he sees my reaction.
I shrug. “No, probably just a coincidence.”
“All right.” Gray gives me a look like he knows I’m lying, but he drops it and gestures to where Johnson just went. “How’s the boot?”
“Don’t ask,” I say with a smirk.
