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Yes, queen.If an ambulance and the cops were dispatched, there is a paper trail. God bless the government and their compulsive need to document everything.
I wonder if the patient was transported to a hospital. Maybe that’s why Cal’s been distracted.
Perhaps it has nothing to do with me.Gasp.Can you imagine?
I’m kidding. I know Klein’s world doesn’t revolve around me like it did for those blissful few hours the night we met.
I jot down the time and date of the incident, along with the number of the patrol car and ambulance on a sticky note and slip it under my keyboard for later. I’m going to need a bit more time to poke around CPD’s system to see who was involved in this situation. Fortunately, the partnership between Redleg and CPD gives me a back channel to their system.
Remind me to send Big Al a gift basket for making that possible. He’s saved me hours of hacking attempts.
Of course, I could always follow the rules and request a transcript of the call via public records request, but the government takes forever with those. Hard pass.
Before I can advance the playback on the SUV dash cam to see how this situation unfolds, Tomer knocks on my door.
Balls.
Time’s up for now.
“Coming,” I yell while exiting the program and locking my workstation.
When I open the door, he wears a wide grin and hands me a Diet Coke.
I chuckle and take the beverage. “Diet Coke break?”
“Is there any other kind?” he jokes.
The other day, we talked about old commercials that refuse to leave your mind even after decades have passed. We cracked up reliving the beer commercial classics, impersonated the Budweiser frogs and tradedwassssuuupsback and forth for a solid four minutes. First in English, then we tried stumping each other in other languages. Once that was no longer funny, we cackled about the thirsty women who watched the construction workers on their Diet Coke break and discussed how it was the opposite of the Cindy Crawford Pepsi commercial. A little while later, he acted out the Life Alert commercial by literally falling to the ground and wailing, “I’ve fallen and can’t get up.”
See? He’s totally fun.
“Let’s go. We’ve got a new case. You’re going to love it. Right up your alley.”
My shoulders involuntarily shimmy at the prospect of a new case and how good it feels to take another leap toward becoming part of this freaking team.
When we pass by the entrance to the lair, I rip off theNofunfucksign and toss it in the trash.
Gone!
I’m officially over Tomer being mocked, and I won’t stand for it any longer.
Our butts are in our seats a few seconds later, and he gives me the reins to prepare the dossier that will be used to brief the protection team. Of course, he’ll be by my side the entire time, serving as my safety blanket.
Although I typically detest people thinking that I can’t do something, I get where Tomer is coming from. He doesn’t think I’m incapable; he’s cautious because he puts nothing above the safety of his teammates and the Redleg clients.
Nothing.
He’s worked with Redleg from the beginning, building it from the ground up, and he wants to make sure it’s run the right way. I can respect that.
“Okay, Mia. It’s your time to shine. I forwarded you the email I got from Big Al about the case. You’re officially read in from the get-go. Drive.”
He leans back in his chair and dramatically pushes away from the workstation— very un-robot-like. Jokingly, I grab the arm of his chair to halt his retreat. “Don’t leave me, oh wise one. Help me, I’m skerred.”
He chuckles and tosses his arm over the back of my chair while I read the email.
“Threats against a politician’s daughter. Juicy,” I muse.
I read through the case intake form and open a notepad app where I’ll create a brainstorming to-do list. It’s not my normal approach, but Tomer’s method has merit. Especially since we juggle multiple cases, and shit can fall through the cracks. If I need to shift my attention to another case, Tomer or Klein can pick up where I left off seamlessly.
