“Is she alright?” I asked.
“She was having a panic attack, but she’s okay. Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you become a cop? For real. Not the recruitment answer.”
I leaned against the wall. “My father was a civil rights minister. He believed in nonviolence and working to make a change from within. After college, I had two paths: follow him into the church or protect people. I chose the military first and then police work.”
“And now you’re the chief,” she commented.
“Now I’m the chief. Setting the tone through implementing reform and training.”
“You still uphold a system built on inequity,” Nia challenged.
“I work to change the things I can reach.”
Nia pursed her lips. “Your billboards are nothing but propaganda.”
I chuckled. “I wish they’d take that bullshit down.”
“Wait, what?” Nia seemed to be caught off guard by my statement.
“You tell me how the hell do I build community trust with my face all over town like I’m selling cologne instead of public safety?”
That made her smile for real. Watching the curve of her lips felt like dangerous territory. Sitting together in the holding cell, I cared less about my position and more about what could happen between us.
5
NIA
“We’ve been here for hours. We have the right to make phone calls. My mother doesn’t know where I am,” a young man said.
The commotion pulled me from my thoughts. The same young man who’d asked for water now questioned one of the aggressive guards.
“You have the right to sit down and shut your mouth,” the guard responded, taking a step forward.
“I thought it was the law to?—”
The guard moved suddenly, cutting off the young man’s words. “I am the law in here.”
Ronan was on his feet, instantly crossing the floor in long strides. He inserted himself in front of the boy. “That’s enough,” he said, dropping his voice an octave.
Irritation flashed in the guard’s face. “This isn’t your precinct, Chief,” the guard stated.
“No, but this is my jurisdiction, Officer Smith,” Ronan replied.
The guard straightened slightly, clearly uncomfortable being called out by a superior officer.
“He’s asking about a phone call. How about you check on the status of processing? I imagine everyone in here would appreciate an update,” Ronan ordered.
The guard stared at him for a moment and nodded. “I’ll see what I can find out,” he replied, then turned and left the holding area.
“Thanks.” The young man let out a shaky breath.
“No thanks needed. We’re going to sort this out,” Ronan said.
Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any worse, the officer returned with a cleaning caddy. “Holding area needs a good scrub. Might as well make yourselves useful while processing begins.”
