I swung by the precinct. The station was quiet when I walked in. The desk sergeant glanced up, surprise flickering across his face, before he nodded respectfully.
“Chief. Wasn’t expecting you tonight.”
“Just returning something to Captain Jordan. He still here?” I replied, keeping my tone casual.
“Yes, sir. In his office.”
I nodded my thanks and felt his eyes on me as I walked down the hall. The night shift felt different, with fewer supervisors and more real police work. It also meant I stood out, especially in plain clothes.
Todd’s door was open. He looked up as I entered. “There he is. I was thinking you’d driven off into the sunset with my Impala.”
I chuckled. “Tempting, but she guzzles too much gas. Thanks for the loan.” I tossed his key fob. He caught it with one hand before returning my keys.
“How was your day off?”
I settled into the chair across from him. “Restorative. I think I should take your advice and spend more time up there. Clear my mind.”
Todd nodded. “And? Things clearer now?”
The real question was clear: Was I back in the game? Because whatever storm was brewing, he needed to know if I was solid or compromised; years of partnership had given us the ability to read each other without words. Right now, his eyes asked questions his mouth wouldn’t form with the door open and ears potentially listening.
“Crystal.”
Todd nodded at the door, then I reached to push it shut.
“Internal Affairs has been all over the place asking questions about the protest, about your ‘intervention,’ about protocol, and chain of command.”
“Expected. I broke ranks when I stepped between the Guard and civilians,” I said, though the confirmation still landed like a punch.
Todd’s eyes narrowed slightly. “They’re not just asking about that, Ro. They’re asking about who you were with in holding. Who you talked to. Where you went after release. And they’re very interested in Dr. Price specifically.” His voice remained professional, but I knew Todd well enough to hear the concern underneath.
I kept my face impassive through years of practice. “I see.”
“Do you? Because whatever happened in that holding cell, and I don’t need details, has people’s attention. People who could make both our lives very difficult.”
He wasn’t asking as my subordinate now, but as my friend. As the man who’d stood with me at my parents’ funerals, who’d backed my promotion to chief when half the force thought I was too young, too progressive, too Black for the job.
“I appreciate the heads up. You’ll fill me in tomorrow on the specifics?”
“First thing. Tread carefully. This feels different from the typical bureaucratic bullshit.”
I nodded and stood up. “Always do.” We both knew it for the lie it was. If I’d been treading carefully, I wouldn’t have stepped between protesters and the National Guard. Wouldn’t have gotten myself arrested. Wouldn’t have taken Nia to my cabin.
Todd didn’t call me on it, just watched me as I turned to go. “See you in the morning, Chief.”
My title felt like a reminder of what was at stake. Not just a job, not just a career, but everything I’d worked for—the reforms, the community trust I’d painstakingly built, the chance to change a system from the inside that was so resistant to change.
The drive home went by quickly, with me on autopilot while my mind worked through implications. That unmarked SUV hadn’t been a coincidence; it might’ve been surveillance.
At home, I stripped, tossing clothes toward the hamper as I headed for the shower. Hot water eased my shoulders and loosened tight muscles. In bed, I stared at the ceiling, exhaustion pulling at my limbs while my mind refused to quiet. What started in that holding cell grew at the cabin and was like finding a piece of myself.
Tomorrow would bring questions, scrutiny, and choices. What would it cost to want her? Everything, possibly. What would it cost her to love me?
I picked up my phone and dialed Nia’s number.
“Hey. I know it’s late, I just . . . wanted to hear your voice before I turn in.”
“You’re up past your bedtime, Chief.”
