Wyatt Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 23), стр. 20
“Now she has our number in case something does happen.”
That shuts him up for about a second. “Do you think I’m stupid? No, seriously, do you think I don’t know who you are?”
Larter strolls out of the station with his head in his phone. Glancing up, he greets us, “Guys.”
We watch him walk away, out of earshot.
I mutter, “Why does Larter even want to be a cop?”
“Do you want to be a cop?” Washington demands, stepping closer. “Because you had better—”
“— I know. I know.” I throw up my hands and walk inside, adding a gruff, “Thanks Dad.”
As he follows me in, swearing under his breath, the two of us do a quick scan but no Chief to be found. With the shift change new desk-cops are busy doing their thing. Several patrol officers check in people they picked up. Sergeant Parker strolls to the coffee machine and spots us. “Washington. Cocker. You know that guy you pulled in for the stolen jewelry?”
We nod, “Yeah,” at the same time.
“They caught his buddy today. The one who ran off first? His friend snitched him out.”
I glance to my partner, see the irritation still darkening his eyes so I answer for the both of us, “That’s good news. We needed that today.”
Parker lifts the cup to his lips. “Why today?”
“Don’t worry about it.” Heading to Chief’s office, I keep my cool and slow my pace for a moment of contemplation.
What’s my next move here?
How do I handle this and come out unscathed? I could say Diana was a friend, that it was normal for us to horse around. Except for one glaring fact. Washington has to file a report that he hit a civilian. That makes it impossible to lie about who Diana is. Not that I am prone to lying anyway. Especially here. Even the impulse makes me uneasy.
But people do strange things when they’re trying to save something that’s important to them. Besides family, nothing is as important to me as this job.
Who has to look in the mirror?
Me.
Who always likes what they see?
Me.
Who wants to keep it that way…
My knuckles rap on a naked door, her name not even beveled into the glass yet.
She calls out, “Come in,” voice distracted. Upon sight of me her pen stops moving and she clicks it inactive, leaning back in a used swivel chair. “I didn’t expect you to come without being summoned.”
I leave the door open for Washington to join us.
“Not the first time you underestimated me.”
She drops the pen, eyes slits.
“That photo was of the girl we hit with our car. I was playing around. I’m attracted to her, and things got a little flirty. Playful. Washington will tell you this is who I am. And I know that pisses you off because you perceive it as me not taking my job seriously. But I believe that when we have fun we do a better job than when we don’t. And people tend to like me. Not you. You don’t like me at all. And I don’t know why that is, and I can’t even begin to unravel that puzzle or trudge through that maze. But I can tell you one thing, Chief, I respect you. I respect your authority. I respect the fact that you lead an establishment that was led by someone you never met and that’s probably a lot to handle. If you want to take that out on me, go ahead. I don’t mind. I really don’t. We both want what’s best for the city, and I’m best for the city when I’m not worried about you. So why don’t you go ahead and transfer me.”
Washington blurts, “What?”
I’m locked on Fiore. “I don’t want to make your job here any harder than it already is. But it seems my face, or my personality, really piss you off. I respect you so much that I’ll go somewhere else so you can relax and focus on making our precinct the best around. And I can keep being the best cop I can be.”
Oxygen has left the room, distant voices from the station drifting in. She stands up and plants both sets of knuckles on the iron desk. Fiore is staring at me for what seems like forever, so I blink as she finally says, “Get out of here,” and it takes me a second to understand. In fact, I don’t.
“Chief?” I ask.
“Your shift is over. Clock out. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sitting down, she picks up her pen, a frown engraved in her forehead.
Washington and I leave, but as I’m about to shut the door she calls, “I am guessing she wasn’t very hurt based on that photograph.”
“She’s okay, Chief.”
“File a report.”
Washington says, “Yes, Chief.” He closes her door. Paperwork resumed, conversation over.
In the locker room he asks me, “Do I get this right — you still have a job here?”
I punch in my code, swing the metal door open. “You know what? I’m not sure. We’ll know tomorrow.”
From where Eudy sits on the bench, tapping today’s events into encrypted software, he looks up. “You thought you were fired?”
I frown as I tug on a comfortable T-shirt, “It was a possibility,” looking at my reflection. Green is my favorite color. Olive green. Military green. “Might’ve bridged the gap.”
“It’s like two months you’ve been on the chopping block. How’d you fix it?”
“Letting go of the fight.” I shut the locker and walk past Washington.
He’s buttoning up a black Henley, mind processing our circumstance. “Where you headed?”
“I’m off shift, Wash. And today I don’t feel like telling anybody where I am going anymore. Or what I’m doing. This is my free time. Emphasis on free.”
Eudy calls after me, “I’d be bummed if you left, Cocker. Who would give me shit about being happily married if you were gone?”
I walk backwards, smirking, “Somebody would. Haven’t