The chief’s door is open, but he’s intent on his computer screen and doesn’t see me.
I rap on the window.
He glances over, leans back in his chair, and rubs his eyes. “How’s it going, Lieutenant?”
I pause to consider. “Good.”
He leans forward and frowns as though my response confuses him as much as it confuses me. “Real-ly?” His tone dips in disbelief.
I’m good, but he might not like my news. “Well …”
“That’s what I thought. Come in.”
Does he know why I’m knocking, or does he just always expect negativity from me? I stride in and drop into one of his hard plastic chairs. Coming here has always felt a little bit like the principal’s office, but since this might be my last time, I feel nostalgic. I take in the warm scent of coffee, the mess of papers on his desk, and the outdated photo frames. Especially the people in those frames. He does this job for all the right reasons.
Whereas … “I’m here to turn in my resignation.”
He sits up straighter. “Is this because of my decision on the documentary? I know you didn’t like how I was allocating—”
“No.” I give a half chuckle, half huff. “You made the right decision about that.”
“Okay?” He laces his fingers together on his desk. “Is this over the reduced staff and a heavier workload, because I’m planning to—”
I hold up my hand to stop him as if I was directing traffic. “No, sir. It’s been an honor to work for you and for the city.” I cross an ankle over one knee. The new me is surprisingly chill. “This is about the realization that I want to work with youth to prevent crime. Schools are starting to bring back resource officers, and I’m taking the job at Lincoln High School.”
He lifts his chin with understanding. “That’s a change in position. Is it … ? Does it … ?” He props an elbow on the table and leans his face onto one hand as if needing a better angle for studying me. “How’s the pay?”
A laugh bursts out. “It’s pretty much a demotion, sir. But it shouldn’t be.”
“No, it shouldn’t be.” He shakes his head as if in thought. “With all the school shootings, it’s still a risky job.”
My heart droops under the heaviness of his reminder. I’d always considered myself a sheepdog. Now I actually get to protect some sheep. “That, and I have a heart for children. I can be there for kids the way my grandparents were there for me.”
I hadn’t meant to share so much, but it feels good to align my position with my purpose. I’m looking through a scope and am able to pinpoint my target.
It’s kind of like being angry, but this energy I feel is a passion to protect our younger generation from continuing the downward spiral of pain started by broken people before them. My goal is healing. My heart is toward them, for them. If the energy from my anger could make me good at my job at the police department, then there’s going to be no stopping me at the high school.
McGinty’s faded eyes still. “That’s very honorable, Zellner. They’re lucky to have you.” He sighs. “I just don’t know what we’re going to do without you.”
I do. And I’d been waiting for this opening. “I’m on my way to tell Drew Harris to apply for lieutenant.”
He hoots, then plants his hands on the desktop to push himself to a standing position before holding out a hand to shake. “Kid, you’re all right.”
His trite words are not trite at all. And as I shake his hand, I feel as though he’s passing the baton. He helped me get to the place where I’m all right, and I’m going to do that for those who follow after me.
A little over a month later, Harris follows me into my new office with a box of my old belongings. “Are you sure this is an office? I think we made a wrong turn into the janitor’s closet.”
I squeeze by the side of my desk and turn to find the large man filling the rest of the room. “I don’t plan on being in here too much.”
He sets my box on a chair. “Well, if you have to deal with any students who struggle with claustrophobia, you can just bring them in here and scare them straight.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I look around proudly at the clock, the coat hooks by the door, and the bulletin board that already has the bell schedule pinned up. There won’t be room for much more decoration. It’ll be an adjustment in more ways than one. “Were you a good kid in high school?”
“Huh.” Harris chuckles. “I didn’t have time to get into trouble. If I wanted to play sports, I had to work with tutors to keep my grades up, and I also had to have a job on weekends to pay for my own fees and equipment. What about you?”
It’s been a long time since I’d thought about high school, and the distance has freed me to be more honest about who I was. I’d always felt I didn’t fit in because I was raised by my grandparents, but I’d go hunting with Granddad a lot, and both grandparents always attended my wrestling matches. I didn’t have to work the way Harris did—neither at a job nor for good grades.
“I didn’t look for trouble, but I was troubled,” I admit. The best part had been Amber. I blink at the realization and the surprising fondness. “Amber kept me on the straight and narrow.”
