1: Stepping in it

My story isn’t sweet and harmonious,
like invented stories.
It tastes of folly and bewilderment,
of madness and dream,
like the life of all people
who no longer want to lie to themselves.

Hermann Hesse

Em ignored the sleet lashing the windows, the rattling glass nearly overwhelming her voice. She curled her hair around her finger as she listened to the phone. The unsettling weather portended a more severe approaching storm.

“So how about we get together tonight? Say a nice dinner, a little wine; maybe a little romance?”

Em hoped an incoming low pressure system pelting the windows would create a temporary respite in homicides, her occupational specialty. But she knew death waits for no one. The mix of rain, sleet and lightning it created, produced anger and frustration, and malice directed inward turns domestic. This storm, like the momentary lull in her personal life, was but a harbinger of bigger things to come. But for now, as the storm outside settled into a steady downpour, it was nice focusing on friendlier diversions between her other assignments.

Em was about to respond when another officer waved from the edge of the room. Putting her hand over the receiver, she motioned him forward.

“Emma, the Lieutenant wants to see you when you’re done. And as you know, whatever the Lieutenant says is the rule.” Detective Simmons laughed at his own pun, turning away before she could respond.

Detective Emma Rules growled under her breath and was struck with a shooting pain in her right jaw. The dentist warned her about this. She had to stop grinding her teeth when upset. Paul knew she hated her given name, yet he continued to use it. Everyone called her “Em” unless they didn’t know her or, like Paul, were complete asses about it. And jokes about her surname were ... infantile.

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.” Em removed her hand from the receiver as she worked her jaw, continuing her conversation. “That’s wonderful, sweetie, I’m looking forward to it. I’ll wear something sexy,” she said as a smile crept across her face, images of the night to come dancing across her imagination. “But I’ve got to go. Something’s come up.”

“Something always comes up. You need to find yourself a regular job, either something eight-to-four or one where you make your own hours.”

“Hey,” Em protested, “I do. Detectives have more latitude than regular officers.”

“Twelve-hour days isn’t choosing when to work, it’s avoiding a social life.”

“You’ve got me all evening. Be glad for what you’ve got.” Em smiled over the familiar exchange. “I’ll see you tonight when I get off at six. That’s a normal hour to start a social life if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I’ll be there with bells on,” her date promised before signing off.

Em was standing when the phone rang again. She checked for anyone else to respond, but the others in the small department were occupied. Shrugging, she picked up the receiver. After all, it might be a lead in one of her cases. Witnesses often don’t call back if they feel an officer isn’t receptive.

“Hello, Detective Rules.”

“Em? This is Francine. I ... I did it. I ... we finally left Jeremy.”

Em rolled her eyes. She knew she couldn’t leave her sister-in-law hanging in the wind at this juncture. It had taken her too long to reach it. Pulling her chair out with her foot, she sat back down. “So Becky is with you?”

“Yeah, she’s right here.”

“Are you still at home?”

“No. You know your brother. If I stayed he’d either try to sweet talk me or threaten us.”

“Yeah, Jeremy can be a real jerk.” Em and her brother had a long and unpleasant history and had nearly come to blows many times. In fact, her relationship with her brother fractured the already tenuous relationship with the rest of her family. She rarely had contact with them now. “Are you somewhere he can track you?”

“No, we’re not.” Francine hesitated. Emma waited for her to continue, knowing you can’t rush someone at this stage. “We’re hoping to stay in New York. I figured the last place he’d look for us was in his sister’s apartment.”

Em laughed, a deep guttural chuckle. “Yeah, he knows I’d put him down. We’ve never gotten along. He realizes I don’t take his shit lightly.”

“Can you put us up? I don’t have much money. I can’t survive long without using my credit cards.”

“Don’t use them, or even check into a motel for the night. If you do, he can track the activity on the card. He’s a crafty one and the information is easy to access. It’s part of the ‘creepy guys’ instruction manual’. Tell you what; I’ll be busy for some time. We’ll work something out. I’ll call around. I’m sure I’ve got a friend who can put you up for a while.”

“Em, we’d really rather stay with you. You know your brother. He doesn’t give up when someone takes something he wants. He may not want us, but he doesn’t want anyone else to have us either. He’ll hurt us if he finds us. The only one who can stop him is you.”

This time Em didn’t try to constrain her frustrated sigh. “That’s not a good idea. I’m a single working girl, working a cop’s hours in a seedy apartment in the wrong side of town. I won’t be there to protect you anyway. You and Becky would be better staying with someone out in the suburbs. Jeremy would never—”

“No. He won’t, because we won’t go anywhere else. One way or another, he’ll track us. When he does, he’ll wait out anyone watching over us. We don’t have to stay with you indefinitely, but if you’re close, you can at least respond if he tries something. Besides ... you’ve got your famous ‘spidey sense’.”

“Okay, I’ll figure something out. I can ask a few people who are fairly close. But don’t stop. Drive all night. Sleep at a truck or rest stop, if necessary. Call me as soon as you reach the city. I should have something worked out by then. But I’ve got to meet with my boss. Apparently I’m in trouble for doing something I shouldn’t have.”

“Thanks, Em. You’re a life saver! You won’t regret it. I’ll—”

“Look, Francine, I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. I’ve also got to figure out what to do with the two of you. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Uh... , OK,” Francine answered, sounding like she was afraid to hang up.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine. Just remember, bury your credit cards and don’t make any calls. In fact, turn your phone off and remove the battery so it can’t be traced. When you reach the city, ask to use the phone at a hotel. If they balk, tell them you’re calling an abuse hotline. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Hanging up and heading to the corner office, Em considered what Lieutenant Anderson wanted. He was normally very direct, shouting new assignments or telling you he was shifting your priorities. Requesting a meeting in his office was unusual. It was typically reserved for dressings down or reprimands. She’d gotten enough of those. She’d been on her best behavior recently, working overtime to close cases rather than allowing them to draw out. The last thing she needed was another complaint on her record.

Knocking on the Lieutenant’s door, Em entered his office. “You wanted to see me?”

“Please close the door,” he instructed, putting his open folder into his drawer. She did so, watching for any signs of irritation. When he turned, he leaned back in his chair and examined her curiously.

“You’re wanted at 1PP. Someone wants to speak with you, and they’re insistent about it. Is there anything I should know?”

“One Police Plaza? Are you sure? The only ones there who’d care what I do are Internal Affairs, and I know I haven’t screwed up that badly.”

“You’re thinking too low in the hierarchy,” her balding, grey-haired boss responded. “There are a lot of departments in the complex. But you’re heading upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Emma shook her head, trying to figure out what she’d done. “Personnel and Administration are on the lower floors. I don’t know anyone higher up the chain of command.”

“Think big. Twelfth floor.”

“The twelfth floor? I’ve never been there before. That’s exclusively for the high muckety-mucks.”

The Lieutenant smiled, the corner of his mouth tilting up. “The Commissioner himself wants to see you in his office.”

“Wait a minute, who could I have offended enough the Commissioner would call me to the carpet for a personal reprimand? Damn, I’d better change into my dress uniform.”

“No time. He’s sending a car to pick you up. It’ll be here in a few minutes. He specifically said for you to come in your normal attire.”

Em glanced at her clothes, trying to iron out the wrinkles with her hands. Appearing before the Commissioner looking unprofessional wouldn’t help her career. “Did he mention what this is about?”

“No, and he told me not to ask. That’s why I was hoping you’d have some clue.”

Em shook her head, glancing out the window with a dazed expression as if lost in thought. “I’ve pissed off plenty of people, and haven’t saved a busload of school kids lately, so it can’t be a commendation.”

“No, they’d hold a commendation on the street or in the Press Room in front of reporters. This is a private meeting, just you and him. But, in either case, you’ll find out when you arrive. After he called I checked your recent records and nothing stands out, aside from your internal complaints. Commissioner Eddleson plays his cards close to his chest so it could be anything. You don’t want to keep him waiting. Chances are the car is downstairs, so you’d best hurry.”

“Do I take anything? My case notes? Should I tell my partner where I’ll be?”

“You don’t want to delay the big cheese. Just go, I’ll tell your partner. I’m sure if the commissioner needed anything, he would have asked. Now git out of here!”

Exiting the building, Em surveyed the street while bracing herself against the elements. The weather was definitely foreboding, another front approaching. She expected to pick out one police car out of dozens. Instead, there was a huge black limousine parked in front with the seal of the New York Police Department emblazoned on the door. There was no mistaking whose vehicle it was. Em glanced around. Several patrolmen were watching her. She tried to shrink into her collar as she meekly waved before hurrying to the waiting car. There wasn’t any sense prolonging the public spectacle. As Em approached, the chauffeur jumped out, ran around the vehicle and opened the rear door for her. Apparently he was briefed on whom he was picking up.

“Ev’ning, Ma’am,” he said, tipping his cap.

“Thanks.” She edged into the luxurious back seat, turning to the driver. “Did they tell you what this is about?”

“Sorry, Miss Em. They no tell me ‘nuffin. They jes’ tol’ me to get you back quick.” Making sure she was safely in, he shut the door, jogged around and jumped back into the limousine.

“Please, no ‘Miss’. The title is detective. When I’m in uniform, I’m all police.”

“Understood, Miss Detective Em,” he said, smiling in the rearview mirror. He put the vehicle in gear and pulled away, noticing the glances they were drawing. “You should be glad you ain’t got no escort.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked you. Everyone insists on using my full name. So what’s yours, and how do you know my proper name?” Instead of observing the driver, Em studied the cops milling about. Not one stopped to ask about the limousine double parked in front of the police department. Even without the NYPD symbol displayed on the door, the police knew whose it was.

“Nathan,” the older Irish gentleman replied, glancing back in the rearview mirror.

“Excuse me for asking, Nathan. You look English but sound Jamaican. What’s the deal?”

Nathan laughed, comfortable with the accusation.

“I grow up on de’ Island. My family come from Ireland long ago to serve, but we not wealthy. After Jamaican independence, I pal around with the street kids and everyday people. I pick up their tongue and not my own. I speak Patwa with the best o’ em.”

“Ah, that explains it.”

Seeing a receptive audience, Nathan seemed ready to talk. “So, you seem to be de visiting princess today.”

Em turned to examine the chauffeur as the station disappeared behind them. “Yeah, any idea why? Or at least who initiated it?”

“Commissioner Eddleson sent me. When you need to know something, he tell you. Whatever it is, if he didn’t offer, I ain’t pryin’. After the rush is past, he’ll surely tell me.”

“Well, I’m glad you’ll learn the truth, but it doesn’t help me. I prefer knowing what I’m getting into before walking in the door. In my line of work, you get shot less often that way.”

Nathan smirked. “Don’t worry. The Commish no shoot you, but he no beat around de bush. He no play games. He let you know soon enuf.”

“So does this kind of thing come up often?”

“People get dragged to the Commissioner offen, but this first time I drive one. Technically, I only drive the Commish. I’m not even allowed to drive his family. If I do, he pays for it out of his own pocket, so he must really want to see you.”

Em looked out the window, not seeing anything, her eyes unfocusing again. “Well, that doesn’t answer my question, but it does raise a lot more. He wouldn’t pay to fire or demote me with his own money, and none of my cases have been big enough to receive a public airing.”

“As I said, if he wanted you to know, he o’ told me. He have reason for keeping secret.”

Em cocked her head, taking a different tack. “So what’s the Commissioner like? What should I expect?”

Nathan considered that for several moments as he eased around traffic. They continued unimpeded down the street. It was between the lunch crowd and rush hour, an ideal time for driving through the city. But Em still didn’t know the significance of his sending his private vehicle.

“He honest, very upfront. But if he no want you to know, he either be clever, disguising it with pleasant words, or he say upfront he no tell you. It best deal with him honestly, too. If you no like somethin’, tell him. Don’t hide it. If you no want to tell him, say so and he respect yo’ wishes.”

“Thanks. That’s the best advice I’ve gotten so far.”

“The cops on de’ street respect him. He work his way up and stand by his people. He united de’ force when it struggling with itself. He speak his mind when important, so I don’t know how long the mayor keep him on. But he elegant. When he embarrass de mayor, he smooth it over by saying something to make him look even better.”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with everyone’s view of him. When the city was pissed at us and cops were staging sick-outs, he got everyone working together and got the feds off our backs. I don’t think there’s any danger the mayor will let him go just yet. If he does, the feds will fall on the force like ravenous wolves. That’s more bad press than even he can manage at the moment.”

“He good man. You like.”

“Riding with you is like a trip to the islands. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask you for a joint,” Em teased.

“I’m a cop, just like you,” he reminded her, his accent disappearing in the blink of an eye as he glared at her in the rearview mirror. “I don’t drink on duty or compromise my career. But I get in trouble for me speech. Other cops give me hell. My Lieutenant speak to the Commish and he call me in. He offer me this job. It allow me to remain a cop and support me family, but escape harassment. He like my family ever since. He invite me to daughter’s wedding and attended my son’s.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“Still,” he continued, smiling. “I think pot laws stink! Waste cop’s time, only target blacks and cost a fortune. I’m glad they start legalizing it. On day they legalize it here, I’m lighting up a big fatty. Hope you come join me. Me no think Commish can make it.”

“No, it won’t look good in the press,” she admitted with a laugh.

They pulled into One Police Plaza and Em was surprised the time had passed so swiftly. The large reddish-brown complex was certainly imposing, while still portraying a sense of modernity, separating it from the old law enforcement days of the past. Still, like most cops, she was nervous whenever called to report there. There were a lot of necessary services conducted here, but it was also where many cops got hung out to dry.

“This be yo’ stop,” Nathan announced, pulling up to the main entrance. He turned back and graced her with a beaming smile. “I think you know which office be his. And don’t worry. Whatever he tell you, he be fair ‘bout it.”

“All right. But I’ll tell you what, if I’m unemployed by the end of the day, maybe I light a doobie in your honor.”

He laughed, a deep guttural chuckle. “Don’t do nothin’ stupid. You do well, whatever you do. Never let anger cloud yo’ judgment.”

Nathan walked around the vehicle and opened the door for her. As much as it hurt her sense of independence, she let him. She saluted him as she left, and turned her attention to the job ahead, whatever it was.

Glancing at the building, Em gritted her teeth, instantly regretting it as the pain shot through her jaw. You don’t get far being a woman in a man’s profession by drawing attention to yourself, she thought. But you can’t get out of the Commissioner’s private limousine without attracting curiosity. She took a deep breath and went in.

She expected the usual security delays, but a small woman in a suit waved her over.

“Officer Rules? I’m Nicole Summers. I’m here to guide you to the Commissioner’s office.” The blond woman who offered Em her hand wore no-nonsense black-framed glasses, but they didn’t hide her clear skin or bright smile. “He’s waiting for you.”

Em indicated her holster. “Uh, do I need to check my gun or—”

“No, no.” Nicole waved her forward as she stepped around the special gate a young officer held open for them both. “The Commissioner stressed you shouldn’t be stopped but to come right up.”

Again, the rush and private assistance unnerved Em. She wasn’t used to special accommodations and didn’t know how to interpret them. For most of her career, she’d fought hard just to be grudgingly treated like everyone else.

She followed her liaison as she strode off, her high heels clicking against the marble floors. Em couldn’t help but admire firm buttocks, but noted her badge and dress marked her as a denizen of the Commissioner’s office. Em matched her step for step, walking swiftly toward the elevator. Em couldn’t act on it, but she admired her professionalism, good looks and demeanor.

“Hold the elevator,” Nicole called, and of course, someone reached out and did so. Em grinned, as no one ever held the door for her at her station house, but then, Em wasn’t built or dressed as well as Nicole. As much as Em disapproved of favoritism in the work force, she’d hold the door for her too.

The others in the elevator moved aside as Nicole led Em to the back. As they settled in and the elevator rose, Em considered her situation. Commissioner Eddleson wouldn’t pay to bring her here out of his own pocket, risking condemnation for misuse of government funds to admonish her. Whatever he had planned must be worth the effort, but she couldn’t figure out what he might want.

Nicole studied her charge as people got on and off the elevator. Em was clearly distracted, so she left her alone. The commissioner didn’t tell her why he wanted her, but she noted he passed over the best officers on the force for this unknown woman. She’d reviewed Em’s record, but didn’t discern anything remarkable, other than a tendency to piss off her superiors. She watched the detective, trying to determine what her boss saw in her. Nicole was involved with the higher level administrative police work. She’d observed street cops too, but Em was different. Her mind seemed to operate on a separate level than the other officers. As officers got on and off, Em shifted as necessary, clearly aware of them, but gave no other sign she recognized their existence, her brows furrowed in concentration.

Em’s mind was churning, trying to figure out what this meeting was about. If it was purely administrative, the commissioner would have sent a message through the normal chain of command. She didn’t think she had been involved in anything which would attract notice, so there must be some other explanation. She had no special knowledge or expertise. The commissioner had hundreds of homicide detectives, dozens he’d know and trust more than someone he’d never met.

Nicole observed Em’s head lift and a smile cross her lips. Of course, Em thought. It’s incidental. Someone indirectly associated with one of my current or past cases must have done something which drew the commissioner’s attention. Maybe a relative shot a criminal or had a standoff with the cops. But try as she might, she couldn’t think of any likely candidates. There are many incidents of ‘suicide by cop’, but she couldn’t think of any family members upset enough to take such actions. With most of her recent cases, the relatives were too grief-stricken to act drastically. Still, that was the only sensible alternative. It was possible an older case finally broke, but she wouldn’t know until she had more information.