Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
As she was sorting her thoughts, her phone rang once again.
She grabbed it out of her pocket and looked at the Caller-ID, sighed, then answered.
“What is it now?”
“You made a good point, one that I’ve been thinking about for a while now.”
“What good point is that, Captain White? That you need to mail me flowers?” She snickered.
“No, that you got the right intel, and that led to the body.”
“That body belonged to Clark Johnson. His name is Clark Johnson, Captain White. Say it. It’s okay.”
“I know his name, Ms. Lee.”
“Then if you know it, stop referring to him as ‘the body.’ I’m not bustin’ your ass, but I’m not cutting you any slack, either. I know as a police officer, for your own mental sanity, you have to divorce yourself from the sentiments triggered by such an ugly thing. Compartmentalize the hideousness of mankind and the evil we do to one another. Some say cops turn evil because they’re too close to the Devil, and that poison rubs off. I don’t know, but what I do know is that right now in my life, I am wearing investigative shoes. I can’t afford to no longer not feel, you hear me? I can’t afford to be like you.”
Adele’s, ‘Right As Rain’ played in the coffee shop at that moment.
“I see him as a person who got mixed up in the wrong crowd, but that doesn’t mean an investigation isn’t taking place, and I resent your insinuation,” he retorted.
“You don’t see him as a person, and I’m not angry, sad, or happy about that. It just is what it is.” She shrugged. “It’s part of the job. I was once you. I understand this. The nature of the beast. If we personalized everything we saw, if we allowed ourselves to get caught up and feel it, we’d die. Not literally, but on the inside. How many dead babies, fatal car crashes, robberies gone wrong, violent rapes, domestic violence cases where the victim is clinging to life and then returns to her abuser if she survives have we witnessed? Hundreds? Thousands? It messes with your head if you let it.
“When I left the force in Boston, I somehow managed to get my humanity and my eyes and heart working again. Not because I left my job, but because I had nothing left to give. I had to reboot. My personal life was in shambles. My ex-husband wanted his wife back, and I wanted someone who understood me. Spoke my language. I didn’t shed one tear when the person I thought was my soulmate up and left. But I died on the inside. I wouldn’t expect you to understand this though. You’re a man.”
“What in the hell does me bein’ a man have to do with this?”
“Hiding from emotions comes second nature to you. Society has trained y’all well. Tears and sympathy are for weaklings. For me? Not so much. I learned to turn it off though, that’s for sure, in order to be the best cop I could be—but sometimes, what we put on STOP should have only been put on PAUSE. I see Clark Johnson as flesh and blood, Captain White. Clark Johnson’s choices in life didn’t make him less human. If anything, they made him more so.”
She took another sip of her drink. “I’ve found that remembering the humanity of this case actually helps me figure out things better. Get into the head of the victim.” She watched the rain fall outside the window as she spoke. “I imagine, what would I do on a night out with my friends and I got in trouble? Or what would I think if a friend got mad at me and we began fighting? Where would I go if I was tired of bar hopping? What would I say to a passerby if I needed a lift? How would I behave on a busy Saturday night if I had a monkey on my back? A horrible addiction, for instance.
“Where would I go for relief? I imagine I’d get high. Get drunk. Grief… a dead father who hated me, driving more guilt and grief. Was Clark partying? Having fun? Or was this all about survival? If I were Clark, what could happen to me if I owed the wrong person money and that person was so sick of my shit, they strangled me? The strength involved for this type of murder, according to the autopsy report, points to the suspect being a man, but Ava, his sister, stated that Clark wasn’t gay, so if this wasn’t a romance gone wrong, what was it? Who did he know who would want to hurt him, or was it a vicious stranger that he crossed paths with? These are the questions you and your officers should be asking.”
“I’m not a psychologist, Ms. Lee. I’m Captain of this police department.”