He nodded once. “I saw you out there.”
“I was assigned to traffic control,” I stated, wondering what he was getting at by stating the obvious.
“I know,” he replied, voice mild. “I also saw who you were watching.”
I kept my expression neutral. My pulse did not change, but my attention sharpened.
He continued in an even tone. “Sergeant, I’m not accusing you of anything, but I am reminding you that perception matters. Especially for someone in your position.”
I nodded once, slow. “I understand that. I’m curious as to what this is about.”
He looked at me over the top of his glasses, the warning becoming more explicit. “Ms. Bennet is connected to an open investigation. While that doesn’t make her a suspect and it doesn’t mean she’s done anything wrong, you need to be careful about proximity. About how things look.”
I let out a controlled breath. “I haven’t discussed the case with her outside of official context.”
“And I believe you,” he replied immediately, which surprised me more than it should have. “This isn’t about mistrust. It’s about optics. If you’re seen getting too close to someone tied to an investigation, people talk. People question motives and they question judgment, which would mean that I would need to take you off the case. Do I make myself clear?”
“I understand,” I said again.
“Good, because you’ve worked hard to build credibility here. You’re newly promoted." His voice stayed calm, but the message was sharp. “Don’t hand anyone a reason to doubt you.”
“I won’t,” I answered.
He watched me for a moment longer as if gauging whether I truly meant it. I did. I also hated that it was necessary.
He softened slightly, the warning delivered. He lifted a hand as if drawing a line in the air. “You can still do your job. You are still investigating. You can still treat her with respect. Just keep your boundaries clear, especially in public.”
“Yes, sir.”
He nodded once. Then, as if flipping a switch, his expression changed. “On a different note, those animal shelter videos.”
I blinked at the change of subject. “The videos, sir?”
“They’re doing well,” he replied. “Real well.”
I waited, unsure where this was going.
“The shelter director called,” he continued. “Said inquiries are up. Volunteers are getting new sign-ups. People are sharing the clips. Apparently the public likes seeing an officer getting run over by dogs and holding cats.”
Heat climbed briefly into my face. “I wasn’t exactly getting run over.”
He smiled faintly. “You looked like you were.”
I swallowed the instinct to defend myself and instead said, “I’m glad the videos went over well.”
“I’m thinking of having the police do more of the social media stuff. Since you’re the local expert, I will be drawing on your experience in the future,” he told me.
The praise landed awkwardly. I wasn’t about to tell him Lydia had helped me, not when he had just warned me to keep things professional.
“Thank you, sir,” I managed.
He studied me with the faintest hint of amusement. “You don’t have to look so uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine,” I replied, and immediately knew it sounded like a lie.
He let out a quiet chuckle. “Right. Well. Consider this a reminder that competence isn’t only paperwork and procedures. Sometimes it’s letting the town see you as a person.”
I held still, absorbing that. The same visibility he had warned me about was being framed as an asset. Both could be true. That was the problem.
