“Sergeant John Thorpe…I supervise the Organized Gang Unit.”
When introductions were over, Special Agent Collins outlined SID’s role in the protection assignment, thanked those around the table for their cooperation, and returned to her seat.
Major Duncan won a hard-fought battle against the effects of gravity as he un-wedged himself from his seat and waddled behind his pulpit.
“Right now we plan to work officers in twelve-hour shifts. Twelve hours on, twelve hours off. We’ve outlined a preliminary schedule, and we realize it will need to be tweaked as we move along. Right now we’re not going to be accommodating. Everyone who signed up to work in this division did so knowing work hours, schedules, days off, were all subject to change. Anyone who doesn’t like it can go back to patrol.”
Threatening to send his investigators back to patrol was Duncan’s favorite pastime—as if being in uniform was a bad thing.
Major Duncan plopped a stack of paper in front of the supervisor to his left, and with his regular diplomacy, told him to hand out the schedules.
“As for the TPD personnel in the room, understand this—Special Agent Collins is in charge of the protection detail. What she says goes. I know you don’t take orders from federal agents, but I’m ordering you to follow her directions. Therefore, you can consider her commands to be my commands…”
Thorpe privately hoped her first command would be to kick The Walrus square in his balls—if someone could locate them.
“That’s all for now. We’ll be meeting with the entire division in the bullpen in…twenty minutes. Any questions?”
Treece piped up. “Why are we only guarding black officers? Forgive me if I’m wrong, but Brandon Baker was white the last time I checked.”
Duncan replied, “Two black officers are dead. One black officer is missing. The only common thread is that all three initiated racial lawsuits against the city. It’s the only connection we’ve made. Baker seems to be the anomaly. If another black officer is killed while we sit on our hands, we’ll be crucified in the media.”
“Are supervisors going to be assigned a federal babysitter too?”
Duncan took a deep breath, clearly irritated with Treece’s questions. “I think that was answered already...” Not exactly. “…there obviously aren’t enough federal agents to assign to every officer on a continual basis, but they will be monitoring your activities continuously.” What the hell does that mean? “That’s it for now, you’re dismissed.”
As everyone gathered paperwork and prepared to leave, Special Agent Collins spoke across the room. “Sergeant Thorpe, would you please remain behind for a few minutes?”
Thorpe halted his retreat for the door. This can’t be good.
“Yes ma’am.” He stepped deeper into the room and approached the special agent who briskly rose and offered her hand.
“Sergeant Thorpe, it’s good to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you,” Thorpe lied.
“Sergeant, you and I will be working together.”
“Ma’am, I don’t think…” Thorpe noticed Chief Elias giving him a shut-your-pie-hole look. “And I’m looking forward to working with you.”
Collins dark eyes said “bullshit,” but a rather full set of lips said, “Good. Please come find me after I’m finished addressing the rest of the division.”
Thorpe walked away thinking he should’ve leered at her like the others; maybe she wouldn’t have singled him out. When he left the conference room, he found Treece waiting for him in the bullpen.
“What was that about?”
“Apparently Miss Collins was offended by the putrid smell in the room. She wanted to launch an investigation into the matter, and she put me in charge. I immediately gave you up and…case closed.”
Treece laughed. “Eat me. What’d she want?”
“It looks like she’s going to be my federal babysitter.”
“Oh, you son of a bitch! I’d give my left nut to ride around with that woman.”
“You’d give your left nut to ride around with a monkey for an hour if you thought you’d get some.”
“Not true. I have a rule not to date women who are hairier than me…well, it’s more of a guideline.”
“Collins seems pretty icy to me.”
“All women feds are like that. They gotta act tough so they’re taken seriously. Put her in a car with me for twelve hours, and I’d melt her.”
“The only thing you’d get is a bad case of blue balls,” Thorpe laughed.
“I already have those.”
“Don’t worry, I bet you’ll get a nice-looking man in his early thirties to ride around with. Maybe he’ll take care of your problem.”
“I don’t doubt he’ll try. Hope I get a marshal and not some Sudoku-playing FBI agent, fresh from advanced accounting.”
Thorpe shook his head, walked to his office, sat behind his desk, and studied his new schedule. He’d been scheduled an 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. shift, but noticed the rest of his squad would be working evenings and nights. He’d obviously been chosen to partner with Agent Collins prior to the supervisor’s meeting; he wondered why. At least his nights would be free to operate—and he needed the darkness. As Thorpe sat at his desk in contemplation, he caught movement in his doorway. Special Agent Collins stood at the threshold.
“May I?”
Thorpe motioned for her to enter, and from parent-ingrained conduct on being a gentleman, rose out of his chair.
“Have a seat.”
Collins settled on the edge of a couch cushion.
“Sergeant, I could tell by your reaction that you’re less than thrilled having to work with me. Fact is, most everyone is going to be paired with someone until they are cleared as potential suspects. Those who aren’t assigned agents will still get periodic unannounced visits. If not me, you’ll be with someone. A benefit for you will be that I’m also working in conjunction with the investigative unit. I’ll be splitting my time between that aspect and protection. As a result, you’ll find yourself with ample time away from me. If you think I chose you because you were the only one in the room not ogling my ass, you’re mistaken. I just need to know if we’ll be able to work together, or if I need to have you…reassigned?”
Collins dark brown eyes were locked on Thorpe’s. The gaze wasn’t exactly challenging, but damn near. Thorpe heard some things he liked and some he didn’t. If forced to have federal oversight, it might as well be with a person who’d keep his evenings free and who’d be tied up on other assignments for half the regular shift. Collins spoke directly and to the point, which was good, but she also appeared to be sharp. He didn’t want to be saddled with a Lieutenant Columbo—just one more question.
“Ma’am, you don’t need to have me reassigned. Nothing against you personally…I’m just not used to having a partner. I’ve been working on my own for several years now and have gotten accustomed to it. Also, though you graciously keep referring to us as working together, I know, in reality, I’ll be working for you. But you’ll have no problems from me, and I’ll do my best to make this collaboration work.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your professionalism.”
“May I ask why we were paired together?”
Collins paused before responding. “Detective Hull has a very good reputation in the investigative community. He, as well as others, has a lofty opinion of your capabilities. Plus, as I mentioned earlier, you will be working without an…escort…for extended periods of time. Taking that into consideration, you were one of the few SID supervisors with an airtight alibi—at least for one of the murders.”
“I see.”
Agent Collins rose off the couch. “I need to address the division. I just wanted to ensure we were good to go. Thank you for your time, sergeant.”