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CHAPTER 6
AFTER A WEEKEND SPENT APPEASING her mother and guilting her sister into spending more than ten minutes on a video call with her, Sloane chugged her iced co ee through a straw and tried to get her head in the game as she stepped into the drab conference room. At least arriving just before the start of training meant no time for mindless small talk. Was it a crime to sit next to someone quietly withou
t being assaulted with questions about the weekend?
Chin Dimple Chad, the assistant chief who bored her to tears, cleared his throat before welcoming them to their first day of DV-specific training. “After today, you’re going to be observing the proceedings in your assigned divisions in the mornings and we’ll have training in the afternoons. That way you can kind of see what we do instead of just talking about it in the abstract. And don’t worry, I won’t be doing all the talking. I just like to welcome you all on your first day.”
When he smiled, he reminded Sloane of a young, deranged Cary Grant with blond hair. At least his monotone voice wouldn’t take up the next two weeks. She was grateful for small wins.
“Today you’re going to spend your morning preparing.”
Chin Dimple stood and grabbed the stack of green folders.
“Preparing for what, you ask?” He grinned again, and Sloane wondered whether it was some kind of nervous tick he couldn’t control. She needed to know whether it was fair game to mentally mock him or not. “Your first case.”
As he passed out the thin folders, the room erupted into hushed chatter and speculation. Sloane took note of the people who looked panicked. Frodo’s little friend Yoyo looked like she might faint.
“Now before you get excited, this is a mock scenario.
We’re going to be working on taking the case from arrest and investigation through to pre-trial and trial as a group. I want you guys to crush that real mock trial in a few weeks.”
He grinned like a shark about to chomp down on a pod of baby dolphins. “Oops. Did I accidentally divulge that?”
Chin Dimple went on to explain that when they joined the others, they’d start on the only real test they’d be getting. A mock trial.
“Is there a winner?” Frodo asked, her tanned face lit up like the Fourth of freaking July.
So predictable. So basic. It’s always a competition with her.
The girl is so desperate for validation it’s kind of pathetic. Sloane recalled the many times they’d gone head-to-head over the years. She hadn’t always been so insane about it all. She used to be kind of cool, but that was a lifetime ago.
“Technically no,” Chin Dimple replied. “But notes will be kept and placed in files. Plus, a lot of prosecutors will be volunteering as judges. We tend to remember the stars and the flops, so keep that in mind.”
Chin Dimple’s complete lack of a poker face made it obvious that it was very much a competition and might even set the tone for a career. At least while in the prosecutor’s o ce. Sloane sat up and paid a little more attention.
“But don’t worry,” he continued, “that’s why I’m going to train the heck out of you.”
As he recalled his glory days as a brand-new prosecutor and the brilliant case he’d mounted during his mock trial a whole three years earlier, Sloane decided he wasn’t only a moron, but he was arrogant as well. A tragic combo.
Despite Chin Dimple’s droning, Sloane couldn’t help but feel a little tingle at the end of her fingertips. It was nothing more than a cold pilot light struggling to come to life, but it was better than the absolute nothing she’d been feeling for weeks.
“And if I wasn’t already your favorite.” Chin Dimple’s voice stopped her from delving into negative thoughts. “I’ve ordered pizza for lunch.”
The troglodytes cheered as if he’d just o ered to erase their student loan debts. Sloane glanced down at her cell.
Eating delicious carbs was so much more appealing than what she usually did with her lunch break.
When the knock came at the door announcing the arrival of pizza just before the intoxicating scent of baked bread and melted cheese wafted into the room, Sloane was powerless to resist it. Even if it meant forced socialization with people she had nothing in common with.
“There are sodas in the fridge,” an older woman with a soft, round face said as she deposited the stack of brown boxes on the table. “Help yourselves.”
Sloane gave her water bottle the side eye. Go big or go home. If she was going to break the regimented diet she’d kept since her days as a collegiate athlete, she wasn’t going to drink water.
In the small lunchroom a few doors down from the conference room, Sloane was moved by something she couldn’t stop. It was like a tidal wave cresting irrespective of the boat caught in its wake. Or maybe because of it. Either way, Sloane was moving and the only vessel in her sight was Frodo, bent over with her head in the fridge.
Sloane slid up next to her and leaned against the sink until Frodo popped up with a can in her hand. “Another mock trial,” Sloane said, crossing her arms over her chest.
Closing the door before Sloane could reach for a drink, Frodo raised a dark eyebrow. It was still thick, but apparently she’d finally found tweezers and given it some shape. She looked like a human female.
