“On the business card. Office or cell?”
“Both.” Kevin pulled into traffic, heading back to the station for shift change.
Tim scrubbed a hand over his face, rubbing a the five-o’clock shadow that always appeared around noon.
“I get it—the desire to help and save everyone. It’s why we do what we do. Or it should be why you do what we do, but getting involved with people you meet on the job is a bad idea.”
“I didn’t ask her out on a date. I gave her my card and told her to call if she had any problems.”
“So you give her your office number, the non-emergency number, or the number to the abuse hotline, but you don’t hand out your personal info.”
“I’m trying to help. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? She just looked lost. I felt bad for her.”
Kevin was getting defensive.
“Look, I was like you once—thought I could save the world.”
He paused, deciding on the abridged version. “I met my wife on the job. Got a call, very similar to that one, felt the same way. I didn’t set out to get involved—I was only trying to get her out of a bad situation. The more she depended on me, the more I wanted to be her knight in shining armor. Six months into our marriage she told me I was smothering her and filed for divorce.”
There was more to the story, but Kevin didn’t need all the gory details. Only the cautionary tale.
“That sucks, man.”
“It does. All I’m trying to do is help you not make the same mistakes I made. I’m not the first cop to get personally involved with the job and I won’t be the last, but I’ve never heard of one of those stories ending in happily ever after.”
