Synth, p.2
Synth, page 2
“It was tense, though,” he said. “A group of counter-protestors turned up on the second night, and a few fights broke out. Honestly, the counter-protestors were a bigger problem than the protestors – they were baiting them, trying to get them to react. They were the ones that caused all the problems. They also made it hard to clear the square before morning. Two people got second-degree burns. A few officers had to use mace at one point to disperse a brawl that got out of control, but it never got worse than that.”
“That’s good.” I nodded in understanding. No officer enjoyed crowd-control duty, and they certainly never wanted things to escalate past mace. Or, as in the infamous case of the hunger strike twenty years ago, full military support to control a horde of depraved who had slipped into bloodlust. The Academy used that horrifically historic day as a case study for trainees, and just the memory of it was enough to make me uneasy. “Any idea how long it will keep up?”
“No idea,” Hawthorne said as we cut across a few empty bullpens and then moved down a row of cubicles. “The ag-gag law was proposed just over a week ago, and the human rights groups haven’t gone anywhere yet. They seem pretty determined, and they’ve upped their antics – we had to take a few signs away because the mayor’s office got so many complaints from bypassers about the grotesque images. But unless they start blockading streets or obstructing people from going about their night, I can’t see that anything will be done. They’re not breaking any laws by being there. So aside from taking away the worst of the signs or maybe trying to restrict the space for their demonstrations, there really isn’t anything else that the CPD or city can do, no matter how much the public complains.”
“That makes sense,” I said as we reached our bullpen. I placed the coffees on my desk while Hawthorne popped the second gelatin cube into his mouth. “They’ve never really been a problem for law enforcement before. They’re a small group – human rights activists don’t typically get much support. It’s only in the last few years that they’ve gained any traction, but even then, despite being tenacious, most of the groups are against violence, so they rarely ever get charged with anything. They’ll likely move on in a few nights and go back to handing out pamphlets and camping out at farms until the law is passed.”
“Maybe,” Hawthorne said, and when I looked up at him, his gaze was fixed on the silver wrapper in his hand. His expression was unreadable, but he paused after he swallowed the remains of the cube in his mouth. “You said this was synthetic, right?”
“Yes.” I nodded, dropping my duffle bag to the ground by my desk as I tried to make sense of his strange expression. “Why?”
“No reason,” he said, then he quickly crumpled the wrapper and tossed it into the trash. Before I could open my mouth to say anything else, I heard footsteps, and a familiar voice rang out.
“You know, Valya, when I said meet me here first thing, I didn’t mean get to the office before the sun goes down.”
“I wanted to beat the rush. Otherwise, getting these would have been too much of a bother. But for the record – the sun was down before I got here.”
I turned to face the tall, elegant-looking figure who had just entered the bullpen on the far side and grabbed her a coffee, holding it out. She was nearly a full foot taller than me, and she was always put together, makeup done, clothes pressed, nails immaculate, and the faintest hint of petunias clinging to her perfect skin. I had no idea how she found the time to do it, but there was never a hair out of place on her head.
“Whatever.” Officer Grace waved her hand and quickly closed the distance between us to grab the coffee. She took a long sip, and I could see her thin body relax as the caffeine flooded her veins. Her pale blue eyes creased with pleasure, and then she groaned. “Uggghhh – damn, it’s so good. You’re a lifesaver.”
“And you’re bordering on inappropriate with those noises,” Hawthorne remarked, pulling out his chair and collapsing at his desk. “I should report you to HR for indecent moaning.”
“Oh, shut up, Theo,” Grace sneered as she made her way over to her desk on my right. She pulled out her chair, setting her coffee down before carefully running her hands over her hair to make sure that the long blonde locks were still perfect. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get one. Why are you even here? It’s so early.”
“Lost a bet,” he replied without bothering to look up.
“Hmm,” Grace hummed, nodding in approval of her coffee again as she took a seat. “Hernandez must be pleased.”
“I bet he is,” Hawthorne muttered as he stripped off his standard-issue vest and tossed it onto the small filing cabinet beside his workspace. Then he started up his computer and grabbed the topmost file from the stack on the corner of his desk.
I followed his lead, turning my own computer on and pulling out my chair to sit down as I tugged off my vest. Sitting in the garment all night was uncomfortable, but wearing it was mandated outside of the office while on duty or when entering the building to start your shift. Tearing it off the second that you got to your chair had become second nature for most in the precinct. As I draped the heavy attire over my own filing cabinet and scooted my chair closer to the grey keyboard as the machine slowly came to life, I found my gaze lingering on Hawthorne’s hunched form.
He looked thinner.
I hadn’t noticed it when he was in full uniform, but now, as he leaned over the open folder with a look of concentration on his face, it was clear in the way that his dress shirt hung from his body that he had lost some weight. My brow creased as I stared at him, typing in my password by touch memory before slowly opening the case file on my desk. I had known Hawthorne since our training days at the Academy. We’d met the very first day of orientation, and he wasn’t the type to get bothered by stress.
Frankly, it could be difficult to get him to take anything seriously, so I couldn’t imagine that work strain was the cause of his slimmer frame. Regardless of the reason, it was concerning. Like many of the other officers, he put a lot of effort into maintaining his muscle mass to be larger than a typical civilian, so I couldn’t imagine him throwing all that effort away by choice, and I knew he would never drain. Even he wasn’t that irresponsible, so something else was going on.
“Valya, are you still good for the 24th?” Grace asked.
“Yes.” I nodded, knowing she was talking about her anniversary party.
“Great.” She grinned, shuffling through a few folders before turning back to look at me. “Do you have the Miller file?”
“Uh, yes.” I glanced back at Hawthorne as I started to dig out the folder, wondering if I should try to talk to him about whatever was going on. “Right here – this one was pretty messy, though. You sure you want to start with it?”
“I’d rather get it out of the way,” Grace said, getting up from her desk to come grab the thick folder that I pulled from the pile. “Then I can push it down into a dusty corner of my mind and convince myself that it never happened.”
“Honestly, I’ll probably do the same.” I grimaced, handing her the file.
“Miller?” Hawthorne said, leaning back in his chair to look at us. “Isn’t that the asshole who had someone in his trunk?”
“Yes.” I nodded in confirmation, a sickening feeling sinking in my gut at the memory.
Awful as it had been, situations like these were why I loved being a cop. That night, we had saved someone’s life. It had been a routine traffic stop, except that when Grace and I were running his plates through dispatch, we heard a thumping sound from his trunk. Long story short, his stepdaughter was bound and gagged in the rear of his vehicle, and his wife was later found dead at their home. The case had been turned over to a pair of detectives from our precinct, per standard procedure, but we still had to finish the paperwork for our portion of the arrest.
“He was a monster,” I said, watching as Lexie opened the case file.
“He was degenerate scum – a damn vampire is what he was,” Grace spat, and I stiffened at the word. Even Hawthorne went still, but we all jolted as a deep voice filled the small bullpen.
“Language, Grace!”
“Captain Mallick,” Grace breathed, her eyes growing wide. She stood and straightened to her full height, quickly turning to face the approaching broad-shouldered man. “I’m so sorry, sir – I – I didn’t realize that you were there.”
“Clearly,” Captain Mallick said, his tone low with disapproval as his gaze skimmed around the small bullpen. His eyes darted to the clock on the wall before shifting back to Grace.
“But that’s no excuse for using that word in this precinct. We have a zero-tolerance policy here, Officer Grace, and I take that seriously. Now, lucky for you, you’re technically off the clock, and there isn’t anyone else in yet to hear it, so I won’t write you up – but don’t think for a second that that sort of language is acceptable in the CPD.”
“No, sir.” Grace shook her head. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” Captain Mallick said, stepping closer and glaring down at her. He was thick with muscle for a Reborn, and it was even more apparent next to Grace’s trim frame. “Because if it does, regardless of when or where it happens, you’re suspended without pay. I don’t care how deplorable Mr. Miller is – that sort of language and behaviour is unacceptable. You’re an officer of the law, and everything that you do reflects back on this precinct and your peers. You’re a role model. A leader. A professional. You’re expected to act like one at all times. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Grace nodded as her grip on the folder tightened. “Understood. I will strive to be better and uphold the values of the CPD, sir.”
“Good,” Mallick said. He stared at Grace for a moment longer, then his gaze shifted to meet mine, and I noticed the paper in his hand. “I wasn’t expecting you to be in this early, Gorski – I was going to leave you a note on your desk. Get your paperwork done, and swing by my office during the break. I need to speak to you before you go out on patrols.”
“Yes, sir.”
We all watched in silence as Captain Mallick turned and left the bullpen, and I wondered why on earth he might want to see me.
“You could have told me that he was there,” Grace hissed as she turned and glared at me.
“Me?” My mouth fell open in surprise. “I didn’t know he was there – I didn’t even hear him come in. You shouldn’t have said that word, Grace. You’re lucky you didn’t get written up.”
“Whatever.” Grace rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “It’s just a word – besides, we were all thinking it.”
I watched her move back to her desk and shook my head in disbelief. It wasn’t the first time that I had heard Lexie Grace use that word, but it was certainly the first time that she had ever uttered it inside the office. It wasn’t like her to be so careless. Maybe it was just the stress of going on vacation next week or the memories associated with the Miller file, but either way, she wasn’t entirely wrong—I had thought it. The difference was I wasn’t stupid enough or cruel enough to ever say the word out loud. It broke the rules, and the rules were there for good reason.
I glanced over at Hawthorne and noticed that his strange and pensive expression was back. His gaze was locked on something in the distance, and he seemed to be deep in thought.
“So, what do you think Mallick wants with you?” Grace asked as she dropped into her seat again and cracked open the folder once more.
“No idea,” I said, making up my mind and grabbing a scrap piece of paper from my desk. I scribbled a quick note onto it, then crumpled it into a ball and threw it at Hawthorne’s head, which seemed to startle him out of his thoughts.
“What are you, five?” Hawthorne groaned, picking up the paper from his desk as Grace laughed.
He moved to throw the ball into the trash but paused when I cleared my throat. He stared at me, then his eyes narrowed. I watched as he slowly uncrumpled the paper and read the message.
I could see confusion cross his face as he looked back at me in disbelief. When I didn’t laugh or react in any way to suggest that it was a joke and simply arched a brow in question, he stilled. His eyes flicked to Grace, who now had her head buried in the Miller folder and wasn’t paying us any mind. Then he met my gaze once more, nodded, and tucked the paper into his desk drawer.
two
Promotion
Friday, July 3
12:07 am
“You wanted to see me, sir?” I asked after knocking on the open door to get the captain’s attention.
“Gorski – yes, come in. Shut the door behind you and sit down.”
I nodded as I entered Captain Mallick’s office, noticing the familiar hint of cedar as the door clicked shut. His voice was always stern, but this time it made me a bit uneasy.
Mallick had never been particularly friendly, but I could hardly blame him for his rigid and to-the-point attitude. He’d had a long career and endured a lot. He was in the third tier of command, only ranking below our chief of police and commissioner. He was one of seven different captains within this precinct, and he was constantly swamped and sought out for advice because his experience was unrivalled. He was a shoo-in for promotion when the chief retired in the next ten years, and even though Mallick had never been a ladder climber, he would not refuse the role. Instead, he would take it without complaint like the professional that he was, while continuing to be a shining example of what it meant to be an officer of the law within the 33rd Precinct of Carneth.
I respected the man beyond measure, but I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t also intimidated by him. Especially right now. Despite pondering it all evening, I had no idea why he wanted to see me. I hadn’t forgotten to file any paperwork. I never did. My firearms licence had been recently renewed. I had completed my mandatory HR training modules and aced all the accompanying tests. I wasn’t behind on any of my reports, and I didn’t have any pending vacation requests.
I fought the urge to outright ask as I sank into the uncomfortable chair and watched the man before me as he shuffled some papers around on his desk but remained otherwise silent.
“You graduated top of your class,” he finally said as his hands settled on a tan folder.
It wasn’t a question, so I refrained from answering. I simply nodded as the captain flipped the folder open, and I saw the name on the front. It took me by surprise when I realized that it was my file, and his pale brown eyes were skimming over the details almost assessingly.
“You’ve worked mostly in patrol, a few crowd-control duties, and made several small-scale arrests. Except for your involvement in the high-profile Miller case, you have minimal experience with investigations. Your drug tests are all clean, your marksmanship is, quote, “excellent”, and your reports are always completed on time with perfect details. There are no civilian complaints lodged against you, no internal harassment claims, no documented suspicions of draining, and no issues with gear returns. You’re a model officer and a promising asset to the CPD.
“Yet you have zero experience working alongside homicide – except for providing supplemental support on two occasions where you patrolled a barrier. You have yet to shadow a senior officer, you only have minimal surveillance background, and you’re shy of five to ten years of experience that we would normally expect to see. So, Gorski,” Captain Mallick said as he dropped the open folder down on the desk and met my gaze. “Tell me – what made you think you were qualified to apply to the open detective position at the largest precinct in Carneth?”
I blinked at him and struggled to find my words. I was completely caught off guard. I had never even considered that my application might come off as arrogant or potentially even insulting to Captain Mallick, given that he ran Patrol and Street and had nothing to do with the Detective Unit.
“I have wanted to be a detective since I applied to the Academy, sir,” I said quickly, trying to make sense of the unreadable expression on his face.
I couldn’t tell if he was angry, annoyed, or simply indifferent and doing his job. Perhaps I had crossed a line—upset Captain Vogle, who led the Detective Unit here, and I was going to be reprimanded for applying inappropriately. Yet, I struggled to believe that could be the case since I had not broken any rules.
“I completed all the exams and paperwork – and the position opening stated that those either with a current pass or awaiting results could apply.”
“Yet you know we typically only promote those who have double your experience,” he said, his tone blunt.
“Yes, sir.”
I gripped the fabric of my pants tightly, wondering if I had just unknowingly made a massive mistake. Perhaps there were unspoken rules among the captains? Or something that I had missed as I reviewed the handbook.
“Are you trying to take a shortcut, Gorski?” Mallick asked as he sat back in his seat and fixed me with another unreadable look. “Or are you unhappy in your current position?”
“No, sir.” I shook my head. “I’m not trying to take a shortcut, and I’m very happy with my current position. I apologize, sir – I should have told you that I applied. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard or have it come off in any way rude or disrespectful. I wasn’t trying to hide my application. In all honesty, sir, I assumed my application would be passed over because my experience only met the bare minimum requirements. I never expected to hear anything back – I didn’t even think that I would pass through the electronic screening.”
“Then why bother applying?”
“For practice?” My voice sounded unsure, and as I saw his eyebrow twitch at my response, I quickly tried to clarify. “That was poorly worded. I took the process very seriously, sir – I didn’t apply for fun. I want the position; I just didn’t expect to get it or even hear anything back about it. But I thought if I applied now, maybe it would help me in the future. On the off chance that someone did see my application, I thought that they might keep me in mind for a future opening because when I applied again, they would know that I was serious – since I had applied before. It also gave me some insight regarding the application process and the sort of questions asked on the forms, so my next application will certainly be even better, but I never meant to—”
